Each morning I sit here, recording the route from a cold stiff achy waking to the warmth of a Divine memory.  To remember why I am here, to touch the spirit inside my heart, to open up the reluctant body and cranky mind to the flame of here and now, the brilliance of the moment.

How is it brilliant?  I am well, I move, I drink, I am sufficient in this little home, my cubbyhole in the catacomb dwelling.  The air, though chilly, will be clean and sweet when I go out to my sleek and lovely sports car–white like the angel she is–to dash into the roar of the traffic rush.

There is a celebration throughout the city today, our home boys went to the field and came back decisively victorious.  There will be many happy cheering fellows along my path today.

So today I am warmed by angels in the form of hawks.  I lean into the inner steady flame that burns my heart true.

It does take practice, as our inner conflict, human/spirit seems to bump every other moment.  But they are polarities that we play with here on this precious planet.  One minute aware of the cosmos and the Divine presence.  The next minute cussing at traffic.  It’s just our way.  Angels don’t get the rush of a good string of cusses!

Practicing peace to me is remember to pause as much as possible.  Allowing curiosity to tickle the moment when triggers are flaring up everywhere.  Or tears burst out of me like a busting pipe.  Or the stillness of my apartment taunts me with loneliness.

Practice doesn’t really mean perfect, as a human.  But then again we are here to remember that “perfect” means being an imperfect bouncing leaf on a perfectly gurgling, rushing, calm, waterfall-filled river of each day.

With a calm look at our excitement and drama/trauma, we see the fiercely amazing thrill park we chose as human merely being.  Esteem throughout the universe by more light beings, we perhaps are the lucky ones chosen, or who volunteered, for this trek through the coldest land without the sight of Spirit.

She is there, like the mountain I know is in the distance, but She doesn’t show herself often.  Faith reminds me that I do know She is there.  And I have to look or Her, get the proper view.  That’s part of the life game.

And what a GAME!!  I enjoy football, I am in some ways a warrior–destined to be kind in this life rather than scourge the land.  Seeing my home-town Hawks win–almost shut out–over the champs form the other side of the country, well, it was thrilling.

It’s a game, no matter who wins or loses, and this morning we are off to once again, find peace with our struggles as spirit warriors.  the Mountain doesn’t move, my touchstone for home.

Well gang, a life has emerged and all our lives changed–a child is born.

May you be a part of this stunning experience.  Seeing those dark eyes open to the world, fresh from whatever the other side is.  The opposite of death–watching the decision of a spirit to take on the challenge of the densest manifestation of the Divine–the earth.

So all of us start a new birth each day–transforming the energies, manifesting our dreams into the earth, speaking our truth and warming others with our fire.

Hello granddaughter Harper, thank you for showing me courage and adventure through your dear eyes!

Not quite, but truly different.  Now a grandmother.  Yesterday I wasn’t.  Now I am.  Simple as that.

A pure soul entered form, started breathing, fresh from the brilliant spirit river of Tao, Divine, Heaven, beyond, another planet, whatever.  But wow to see those dark black eyes of a newborn, staring at the light, mystified with breathing, handling it so perfectly so quickly, emitting noises to their surprise.  Parents not sleeping to no one’s surprise.  These are common as air and treasured moments forever in the family.

And I am alone in a quiet cool apartment, thousands of miles away, surfing waves up and down, tears, fears, anger, soft nothing moments.  Different and the same.  What a hilarious thing this human trip is.

So Dear one, I lean on you in gratitude that the birth is commenced.  I take time to rest in your arms.  And buckle my seatbelt for more.

What if riding the wave was as fun as a carriage ride in the park.  Or waiting for a child to be born the anticipation of a really good movie.  I take a look at what is delightful in my life and pretend it is just around the corner–a perfect walk, a deep friendly talk, the eyes of a loved one arriving, anticipating a trip to see the sights of old friends.

But the human is SO frantic with what could happen–the glass half empty, the shadow, the worry, the fear, the future difficulties that could happen.

And everything is just the Way It Is.  Nothing right or wrong or good or bad or yes or no.  Just the turning turning of the seasons and the day and the tide and the soft movement of the spheres millions of miles away.

Being content with this first principle of flow is an amazing human challenge.  Thus I reach for the Sweet bodhichitta within and treasure the gift of this very here and now.

Making room for everything to happen without forcing it to happen.  Or trying to make it NOT happen.  Birth.  Death.  Sickness.  The body tired of walking around for years.  The soul brilliantly pleased to keep living on this exceptionally beautiful planet.

Just going with the flow.

How now Tao Cow.

No matter if all I do is complain about the cold and wet.  The universe showers me with goodness and treasures.  My task is to be completely awake to this perfect rain.

Reminding my body of this goodness is a practice.  Coaxing this dear horse onto the daily path each day, well, is another gift.  She, like most old mares, turns her head to the bed of greens, wants to stay unbridled to roam the day in clover.

But the adventure was to dive into each day as a scout for Spirit–throwing myself into the rollercoaster.  Sometimes even forgetting to lock my seatbelt.

Many mornings I have to hold onto you here, Divine One, and grab your dear arms as they rest on my shoulder  Lean into your tender neck as you whisper in my ear.  Always with each other.  Say it to me again and again until I giggle with you with bowed a tearful nod.

I open my heart to the beauty of All That Is.  Even when it doesn’t look and feel beautiful.  A chest cough–now that just doesn’t feel beautiful.  My body is strengthening itself with antibodies and immunity for a new city.

Sure says the human mind.  Keep telling yourself that.

I open my heart to the cold day.  Uh huh.  Sure says the mind–the bitter cold, the continuous bitter cold, the lack of movement, the rigid frozen day.  And in other lands there will be a very dry spring.

Whatever says the mind.  BORing.

Here is the conversation, the human and the spirit.  Every other moment.

Welcome to earth!

Worry is like running after butterflies.  You want something beautiful in your hands and it’s chase chase chase for the untenable–the future.  Just keeps me running around in circles.

Gray day filled with fog on the next step, long drive, cold and useless clothes, hard to set up a face for the day.

And there you are–human existence, one day at a time.

Gratitude, awareness, easy doing it.  And let the car act as it may, the daughter fuss as she does, the future loom as it will.

I grab hold of Her, Your, hand and we go off swinging our arms and singing along like school girls.