I trip over the rug, sometimes even over mysterious invisible moguls in the floor.  I stumble over some days that seem filled with mistakes; it is an effort to see them as successful mistakes, but they probably are all successful somehow.

I’ve had a number of acid trips–I liked them, actually.  Mind-bending, heart-opening, breaking over to the other side of my mind.

Oh, and I trip over my mind a lot.  Judgments, criticisms, struggles, rules, shoulds, woulds, lists, insufficiencies and messes that “need” cleaning up.  Constant doubt bugs me like an ever-present mosquito from Alaska–large, loud and invisible with continuous buzzing all around my head.  I can’t get at it to kill it, it is more clever than me.

But what if every time I fall, I tumble into Her arms.  Maybe She grabs my arm with a smile and says “Are you ok?”  Or “watch your step, it’s bumpy right there.”

And then there are days when I pretend to fall, just so I can rest in Her soft arms.  She is not fooled, and She holds me tight.