Like just sitting in the shallow part of the lake and letting the silt settle down.  My website is still not alive and well.  I speak to no one but myself and the Dear One.  Which is what it always is, I suppose.  Whoever is, is part of the Divine. 

Reading Meister Eckhart these days, another brilliant heretic who comprehended Buddhism without the Heart Sutra to read.  A Taoist who never saw the Tao Te Chin.  He speaks of the original blessing–that we are co-creators with the limitless power of the Divine.  And it makes so much sense.  We are an evolving piece of art, reproducing with each touch of the keyboard, swipe of the paintbrush, breath and spoken word throughout the day.

Today I quiet the irrational disturbance, the inner arguments, the nasty judgments and let those useless and tiny points of dirt settle into Gaia’s soul.  I take the mud and make a gift back to the earth from which I came.

I’m in one of those clouds that simply seem to block out all memory of the sun.  Even when I feel the warmth, I deny that it is really a nice day.  I want the rain to keep people running to their cars instead of talking to me.  I want to stay under the covers instead of embracing the day.

There is a theory that when good things happen to people who have struggled much of their lives, that they have a hard time accepting the good and releasing the habit of struggle.  I may be in that conundrum.  A good job, great relationship, steady home.  And all I think about is too busy, tiresome tasks, drudge of getting up in the morning, and dreading appointments.  Wow.  what a life.

Asking those resistant isolating voices, the deepest I get is that I’m still grieving.  Something.  Someone.  Feeling alone and life just seems too much. I sure hope it doesn’t last long.

Dear One, infuse me with your beauty and energy.  Allow me to see the world as your garden, with an eternal spring of goodness and grace.  Open my eyes to the delicate joy of touching people’s lives as I hold Your hand.  Remind me that I am on an adventure we planned together and let me feel Your whisper in my ear always: “I love you just the way you are.”

It is truly weird to know that no one, actually is reading this now.  The site is down, snafu.  My aim in writing is and always was to transpose the harsh human morning into a Divine gift.  So anyone reading is extra.  I’ve been called to offer the world Her Words.  Well, my words trying to open my stubborn stupid screaming idiot heart to Her words to share with you.

Not sure how well that works.  But here goes again.  In case my site ever goes live again.

So I’m out of balance.  Lost perspective.  Wanna crawl under the covers.  Seek for energy but don’t want to move an iota out of place to achieve it.  Grab for responsibility and then don’t want to respond.  Or begrudgingly.  What a pouty kid. 

I was taught to combat this kind of maudlin mess by doing something for someone else.  And then part of what’s happening now is that I’ve committed to a job that takes enormous time.  But in the job I work for others every minute.  Perhaps I’m being called to shift my vision.  I am there for a reason to serve the Divine by each tiny task I complete, begin, muddle through.

Oh Sweet One, energize me, shine through me today to show those who don’t know they seek You, how pure and lovely is Your Presence.  May I be the place today that you walk on the earth–warts and all.

That would be a good name for a rock band, Screaming Idiots.  There is so much noise in my head that isn’t productive or creative.  Tempting whiners that tell me I’m old and don’t want to move.  Depressed lazy voices that decide I have no talent, so I should stop trying so hard.  Even the “gotta do it now” voice that dumps guilt on me when I just sit.  Not to mention the argument it gets into with the voice that self-righteously mentions I should meditate every moment.

What an idea it was to inherit this human mind of talking, thinking, communicating, so-called “reasoning.”  If only I could really allow it to be like the bark of a tree, or a leaf on a flower–just a part of me. 

Keeping the One in my mind’s eye gives me a higher view, a sunrise of exquisite beauty that guides me to be new and new and renew.  Fresh air today, lots of fresh air of clear beauty to stun and silence the screaming idiots.  Her simple gesture quiets the crowd.

What I need is a referee to slow down the battle inside my head and to stop the clock and the action when there is foul play.  When the mind is offsides with horrific fears, or there’s a personal foul when I take an absurd causal remark to the heart.  Perhaps my heart grabs me by the helmet and tosses me to the ground when the pouty stubborn resistant and defiant one demands my attention.

As a battleground for instincts, I can have no peace.  Let the dear one, Krishna the blue charioteer, lead me between these fierce armies and take me by the hand to a peace beyond my understanding.

That seems to be the story of a confusing life–I’m not present to it, but I walk around and make noise as if I am here.  Well illustrated by the fact that I’ve been pretty regular writing in this blog, but for months I’ve been offline.  Website not renewed and I am truly talking to myself.  It’s a small audience, and it did feel alone in this vast amphitheater of self chatter.

I yearn to breathe deep and slow today.  I claim to be filled with the gift of kindness to myself especially.  I intend to see how the teeter totter of instincts can so easily, with a look, be thrown out of balance.  Like a small child I can quickly fall hard on the sand, terrified of embarrassment, being wrong, looking stupid and being hurt.

Nothing can hurt me as I am a child of the universe.  This is a playground, not a torture chamber.  The trees remind me of my decision to be true to myself in such a distracting environment.  I am rooted in pure Presence.  I breathe brilliant sweet air of here and now.  My branches dance with the wind of yes.

I
awake and ache.

Stiff
from being flat out

Tired
of tossing and turning for the right position

That
is instantly the wrong position.

My
limbs get numb

Rest
yields restlessness.

It
has been so many years in this body.

A
flower, a plant,

No
matter the twisting will

Turn
and turn again to face the sun.

Where
can I seek the light of love?

Is
seeking is the secret of the universe?

I
certainly seek being in the right place at the right time doing the right
thing.

My
quest has found love

Lost
love

Ignored
love

Dumped
love

Fought
for love and

Loved
so hard it turned into a fight.

I
yearn body and soul for the simple life

To
turn my head to the sun

But
I simply get twisted.

If
I could only

Take
direction from the trees

Grass
green

Leaves
falling

Mountain
stillness

Even
if beyond all clouds

Fierce
screaming winds

Sideways
rain obscuring sight

White
snow blindness

Frozen
in a glacier

I
have no other task but to seek.

Today I’ll just give up trying to figure anything out.  Ha.  As if it ever worked, if I ever could.  Life is empty and meaningless, and I am a meaning-making-machine.  I will let the world evolve into it’s own meaning today and watch for signs.

Signs of natural love in bare courageous wintering trees.  Hearing the twitter of tiny sparrows doing their cold weather business cloaked by the forest so open.  Watch the color of sunrise peek behind the gray clouds.  Just let the day be itself and follow like a good camper.

I am willing to watch for signs of the right Path, the proper turn on the Way.  What it would be to truly let Her have Her Way with me.  To be a true and loyal doe for Diana, an attendant to the Deva in the temple, an accolade to the Priestess who journeys, a silent nun to the One.

What to do when you feel marooned by yourself?  Or that you took off from a shore that just was completely used, built, populated, busy, exciting and exhausting towards the unknown gray fog in the huge great lake ahead.

It is the card when you have the staff of purpose, pushing the tiny boat through the murky emotional waters head forward into the unknown.  Part of me is huddled, sad to leave the familiar, tentative and scared.  There is nothing ahead in the horizon.  It is the deepest cold fog.  Shapes and shadows are like phantoms, clouds or mountains and change with each heave of the little craft of me.

But I will not topple or tip or flounder or sink.  It is a journey, not a dead end.  And the destination is not even the goal.  It is to be present to the gift of the Way.  I claim the cloak of Her warming love always on my shoulders, whether I feel it or not.  I grasp the truth of her Presence even when the travel seems to be endless inertia.

That’s what Krishna says over and over.  The one I love is the one who is detached from the outcome, who allows the river to flow without trying to dam it or dry it up or redirect it.  And wherever the river flows, the river flows.  Sometimes it floods the plain and leaves rich soil.  Sometimes the tears flood my days and leave a headache.

Whether with my brother in prison, my sister bent over with her hurt back, or a friend with delightful young sons, work forever undone, bills unpaid, dreams fading–to let them all just flow without grasping.

Today, I let all sadness and feelings of uselessness just float down the river of what I truly believe is endless love that courses through our bodies, is what we breathe, is the shining essence of every-thing.  I lean on the light today.