The seasons, daylight, weather and my life is indeed affected by the planets. I sleep at night. At least these days.
It could be my imagination, but when Mercury looks like it is traveling backwards in the sky, and my life is a stutter, I start laughing. No need to hope, fear, expect, plan or count on anything. Bend at the knees and let it go. Ungrip the hands so you don’t lose the arms of your day.
Doing the two steps backwards, one step forward. Cha cha cha!
The swainson thrush song each evening
The green of trees outside my window
Bright afghan on the bed I made for myself
Long conversations with my neice about pain
My dear dog long gone always near me
Mother’s embrace from beyond the veil
Tears upon tears upon tears upon tears.
Another shooting on another campus. Of course, being in the upscale white Christian part of town, it is a horror. Shootings take place every day in the down-&-out, lower economic, mixed race part of town. That doesn’t create such a stir.
This and other examples in my life remind me that until I am completely compassionate with both those who give their lives, those who take lives, “evil actions”–including twisted media–only once I see myself as them, forgive and embrace the hardest part of my shadow, can I be free.
It is in the deepest hole of my darkest shadow that allows me to turn and see the ever-present Light. The Light never goes away, I have my back to it. But only realizing that the use of the dark is to face the light, can I release the pain of shame.
Flame on.
More anxiety fretting vs. deep serenity and release–the gap seems cavernous. Waking with a brain battling over plans to pack, heart wrenching doubts, loneliness and irritation that people want to visit me.
My readings remind me that this is a dance, that I can slow it down at any time. I can see it as a performance and sit to rest as a wallflower too–with the song birds in the forest, the loud crows, even merely to feel the waves of traffic.
I bow to the Lotus within me, throughout me, surrounding me, beneath me, above me. To that Beauty that swirls my chakras, energizes my cells, whispers sweet life nothings in my deaf ear.
This day, dear one, is Yours.
Change brings up the core fear: I am alone and unloved. It is just that bottom line of being human for me. The illusion of separateness, the story of the mind trying to keep me safe–but a bit out of balance with the heart that knows.
It is only with the heart that one can see rightly, said the Little Prince. My heart sees the gladness and goodness, the sweet Presence that loves me in every millisecond of the tiniest atomic cell in my body and soul.
It is the remembering that brought me here. It is the teetertotter of birdsong and ache, fragrance of pine air and trudging body, list to do and deep peace that keeps me in this human/spirit waltz.
I open my heart and arms to Your Partnership as we glide across the dance floor of this brilliant planet.
Ahhhh. Home. Channeled speakers tell me that my ticket home is guaranteed. Actually, it is within me between the breaths. I now and here sit in the home of this moment. Cherishing comfort, birdsong, deep moist green fir trees, meditative Sunday morning grace.
I carry Home within my heart as I walk the Way–from here to eternity, from eternity through the Garden and Home again.
There is nothing like a smiling baby or a happy dog to remind me that we are here in a joyful adventure. The sound of a young child giggling or the jumping bark of a dog ready for a walk–here is life insisting on having a good time. Thoughts to move this slow body achy morning into a bursting grin.
Off to a conference of spiritual scientists, who have experimented successfully–with advances and retreats–with all that is beyond the veil. I sit at a table on the side of the crowd and receive gifts of the Presence–the Dear One sits with me with each person shining the eyes of Her love.
I giggle and bark, jump and clap my hands in delight!
There will always be a little pouty girl inside me, wishing I was in the middle of a party–for me. Then with a pause, I hear the birdsong and the delightful joy that nature has for itself, teaching me to practice the same. And I practice.
As I sort through papers, memories, letters and cards that I have carried with me throughout the years, I am blessed with gifts of love. Signatures on goodbye cards, birthday messages, scribbles from children, and lovers’ poems. In meditation yesterday, I saw them all fill an auditorium and cheer me in unison: “We LOVE you!”
What a present received while practicing the Presence! I show this vision to the pouty girl and she grins and giggles and does a pirouette onstage to the applause. Hurray for Goodness!
What if it was just a story–leavings, goodbyes, beginnings, new starts? Certainly we wake to a story each day–drudge, bright shiny sun, achy body, dread of a meeting, excitement of a friend, worry about money, sweet forest rain.
But that is why we are here, isn’t it? To realize it is all story and to practice making a good one. Surfing and skiing is not about avoiding the waves and the moguls, it is about getting a jump, a thrill, splash and lift. I can’t hold onto a wave and shouldn’t grip tightly to these stories.
My Dear One is an expert surfer girl. She is so good that She can surf the highest and lowest wave with me holding on behind Her. She yells loud and free as I squeal and scream behind. She giggles and reminds me to open my eyes to this adventure.
Whaaaaahooooooo!
Why is it that so many mornings–well, many moments–I feel like I am anchored deep in melancholic molasses? The day stops. Birds keep on chattering, crows complaining, traffic rolling in the distance. And I sit with a pouting stubborn cranky child inside my old aching body.
“I don’t want to do ANYTHING!!” she screams, fighting it all: the simple change of the day, plans for the future, preparation for change.
A deep breath. I am open, gentle, loving and accepting that I am restless, irritable, cranky and discontent. I am sad, mad, frustrated, unprepared, worried, anxious and overwhelmed. The heart and mind shake hands, friends on the path.
And a prayer. Dear One. Sweet One. Blessed Spirit of All That Is and Isn’t, I claim Your Presence. I sit in Your room, this room, lean on Your song, this birdsong and share Your Breath, Your Peace and Your Grace.
And so it ever is. As it was in the beginning and ever shall be.