One of the principles of NLP–neurolinguistic practice (I think that’s what it stands for!) is that all failure is merely feedback.  Actually, they don’t believe in failure.  It is just the results–always–of a successful experiment.  Our difficulty lies in the fact that we continue to do something we already discovered doesn’t work.  It’s changing our minds about how to move towards a new goal in a new way.

Doing something different to achieve different results.  I’m not sure why that is such an amazing concept that often takes me MUCH time to prove.  I believe it is those persistent inner voices that insist it should be the way it is “supposed” to be.  And that perhaps I’m doing something wrong in the continuous (erroneous) behavior–or better yet–I’m just simply wrong and it will never work for me.

Successful mistakes are brilliant.  Dissatsifaction is an excellent motivator.  Spirituality is gained through massive imperfection.  Stumbling through the day helps me learn to fly.

Today riding on the back of a magnificent swan-or better yet–a Canadian goose the size of my sweet sportscar!  She sqwaaks as She leads a V-shaped group of giggling angels along the scope of the endless lake.  From shore to shore of the day I am carried.

If I align my mind with the Spirit within me, Spirit surrounding me, they we are all on the same Path.  But when my mind demands rules to be played, it’s like hearing a football referee whistling for time out in a ping pong game.  Or a boxing ref trying to separate a tackler going for a sack.  The rules don’t match the game.

There are few, if any, rules.  But once born we have the breathing thing, gravity insists and the soft cultural insinuations learned in my mother’s arms.  Be a nice girl, you are smart (but perhaps not pretty), what a good thing it is to be a helper!, etc.  The mind, being a trainable organ, takes it’s cues for survival and does whatever it can to stay alive and well.

But being a “good girl” does not mean that I never please anyone, or avoid conflict to the point of my own pain.  Helping others is not the same as stretching myself so thin that I am sick with anxiety.  And it turns out that being a smart ass just doesn’t make me friends.

The rules of the mind are not dependable markers on the Path.  The mind gets frantic, but the spirit never.  So I just have to remember that the Way is a labyrinth–purposefully made to confuse the mind.

Today, a tired mind but spirited soul.

Moving my body slowly but decisively.  Waving my hands in clouds.  Spinning from side to side warding off and grabbing the sparrow’s tail.

Somehow this simple five minute set of movements tunes me up, reminds my body that I do indeed honor its continuous reliability.  Thank you body for long hours, questionable fuel, endurance, creation and sustenance. 

What a lovely idea to merge with earth so granularly that as I touch the keys I continue the connection–earth to earth.  But the movement is initiated by the Spirit inside me, conceptualizing and manifesting the click, the little tiny lines on my monitor screen and deeper and deeper the thoughts, the feelings pouring out.

In this very unique and fleeting here and now, I am blessed to be human.  Thrilled to be spirit.  and enjoying the ride.

I wrote this for my kids, but it is, after all, for me to connect.

With the help of heaven,
I’m strong
I’m healthy
I’m good.

Every day
in every way
I’m getting
better and
better and
better.

I am
I can
I will
be
healthy
wealthy
wise and
safe.

‘nuf said.

If I give love the reins of the day, will She take them and keep them in Her graceful hands?  Or do I grab them back, frantic that the careening stagecoach of my life is going to crash, distrusting the ever-present sweet soil that always holds me up.  Yup, I get scared every other minute.

If I could feel the soft earth of Gaia deep beneath the five stories of concrete and steel, reach my soul roots into Her heart, would it keep me on balance?  Why is it that I find myself twirling like a little girl, desperate for the distraction of being dizzy?  How can I see through the scattered papers, dashing folks, blinking emails, mixed meetings and messages and see the love beneath it all?

To see the game around it all, that the mind keeps trying to trick me into forgetting my treat–that this breathing scene I’m featured in, is brilliant and beautiful from my toes to my nose, no matter where I go.

The monkey mind keeps dragging the forgetter cap over my head, but there is nothing stronger than Spirit.  No cancer, death, absence, distance, heartache, tragedy or mere geographical escapes can touch the ever-present fragrance of the Spirit.

Sometimes it seems that this wisdom comes in glimpses, flickering between glacial boulders of duty, bills, work and relationship maneuvering.  But the sun never goes away.  Air is always here.  Breathing is a regular routine–and when it isn’t–the lovely bones of trees proclaim the truth of eternity as they melt into the sand that was once a part of that huge rock.

That which I am is always part of the I AM.  Thus there is no nothing, never gone, and death is a giggle.  I just need every day to remind myself.  Thus I have this regular conversation with You, with Her, with Him, with It, with No-Thing.  Just to reach beyond the chattering dinosaur brain and touch the warmth in Her garment that She wraps around me. 

She holds me and rocks me back and forth with a soft giggle in Her lullaby.  As if there was any other unreality.

Bring the rain and the wind at my back to soften my shoulders.  Let the rustling trees soothe and quiet the ruckus in my mind.  May my every movement stretch my arms and legs resilient to the illusions of task, trouble and weight of the world.

Come to me gratitude that you fill me up and I overflow with good and plenty.  Let me sit on a rhythmic mattress of air on an easy rolling river of life, watching the magnificence of Your creations roll on by.

Warm sun through the trees, sparkling water waving at me, bird calls joining the symphony of the rushing gurgles of the day.

May the sweetness of Your loving touch, resting on my back, steady and true, soft whispers of love be the music of my day.

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.

So his name was James, and I really don’t know much about his life except that he married my cousin and my mom liked him a lot.  So after a puzzling and heartbreaking mental and physical illness, he’s outta here.

I remember relief twisted up with sadness when death finally visits after a long illness.  We’re not meant to last that long, in human years anyway.  Dogs get more out of life, so their years last longer.  Cats probably had to come back for punishment, they seem so bored with it all.

Let me dive into Your endless heart.  I want to sit near You through the whole game of life–and afterwards too.

So I spend a couple hours transcribing minutes of a day-long meeting.  Actions to take, reminders to revise, requirements to clarify.  I wonder what it would be like to have meetings with God and take notes?

1. She recommends a more regular communication.  Discussion ensued about timing and method of this communication.  She says it is open.  Back to me.

2. I brought up the point that I need more self care, massage to ease the fortress wall in my back.  She noted that the resources were available and at hand, that all I need to do is make the call.

3.  I asked about all the rules that keep bothering me about what I should do in a relationship, or how I don’t make mistakes, or what I do if I want to escape and isolate.  She reminds me that it is an open field (no right or wrong), but that not choosing brings about a default decision.

4. It is brought up that there is no firm guidelines on how this relationship and life is to be handled.  She agrees.  There is much discussion on this point.

When the meeting is over, however, we have ice cream cones that drip all over our shirts while sitting in the sun and then go yell and scream at each other playing ping pong for hours.