I’m an easy drunk for God.  Give me one tiny gulp of You and I’m loaded and silly.  I don’t even need any olives or cherries or pickles or anything, just the sight of the green trees, the smell of the forest tavern, and a deep drink of Your natural fragrance–and I’m dizzy on my feet.

I want to pour You over me like warm scented bath water and I am ready for the wedding night.  I choose to dive into the lake of your cool refreshing Love on a hot human day.  I grab for You in the scorching heat of a frozen mind and quaff down You–cool and intoxicating.

You are the satisfaction of my thirst, the fulfillment of my hunger.  So keep the drinks coming!

Off to the woods again this weekend.  Despite the soft rains expected.  It is, after all, just rain.

I’m cultivating an internal vision–that as I walk down the white bare narrow hallways 4 stories up in the office catacombs, that I see myself treading on a soft cushion of pine needles and moss beneath the towering cedars, smell the deep forest fragrance, and watch the sun play hide and seek with the tiny salal leaves waving in the teasing gentle breeze.

My steps slow down, my shoulders drop and I breathe slower and deeper.

I may have the tool of powerlessness at each sudden crisis and exciting situation at my desk that fires up, but I also have the powerful tool of my imagination.  It’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

It is fascinating how we wrestle with the invisible here.  Wanting to rip the “veil”, dancing with shadows, picking at my feet.  What a fascinating existence to know that most of what exists is empty space.  All solid form is really infinitesimal particles of dervishes swirling around universes of nothing.

Or is it nothing?  This is the joke of ALL That Is, that nothing is everything and other “things” is nothing.  So we make up stories.  At least that’s one way to see it.  Stories about working for a living, eating, breathing and sorrow at death.  Tall tales of drunken escapades, bad marriages and hilarious road trips.

I really do believe today that human life is about stories–yours and mine can be so vastly different.  Today I endeavor my story to be about easy service at my job, comfortable listening to those who sit with me, and endless dreams of the Divine One whispering at my shoulder, touching my hair, and making me laugh.

Saturday night a life left the earth–at least from most eyes.  He was a dear man, loved to fish, loyal to his family, hard and compassionate worker.  He also lived in the 60s and remembered the fights for freedom on campus that we had.  All of a sudden his heart was attacked and the body said “enough.”

Even though I wasn’t as close as a friend, we worked side by side for years.  I remember his laugh, his rolling eyes complaint about the talkative neighbor near his cubicle.  He had a little sports car to enjoy–though his son borrowed it now and again.  And there was the big fish he almost caught all the time.

He’s fine on the other side, I’m fine on this side.  My 3-dimensional self has and probably will shed more tears.  I have a sketch of his in my office now–his “notes” of meetings were involved sketches of hills, trees and clouds.  Now he can sketch from another viewpoint.

Just remember Larry.  Another near-death experience that reminds me how precious life is.

Life is juicy.

Life is unpredictable.

Life is crazy.

Life is lovely.

Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.

Just tell Her your plans for the day.  It cracks Her up! 

My Higher Inner Self is destined to focus on the best possible day of experience for me.  But this little human earth-bound ego body is naturally resistant.  The mind made up of time, tit-for-tat, here and there, competition, better-than, growth, and all those other facets of the world, get in the way of the Path of Spirit.

Today I intend an easy play between my ideas and the Way.  Rather than struggle and fight and argue and pout, I will just flow like the river over rocks–foaming and spraying, splashing and giggling.

Tell me another joke, Sweet One!

What is it to want something?  Why do we do it?  Is it an illusion that something will make us feel better, or is it real?  Are these urges formulated from childhood-skewed memories, or based on mature analytic experience?

Ha.  Like even analyzing feelings–including desire–would be a fruitful investigation!  As Kinesy Milhoune says, “Who said emotions had to make sense.” 

So bursting into tears is a sign that there is a belief going on, a story being told, beneath the surface.  I can try to tune into that story and make a different choice, see it from another angle, or merely remind myself that it is a story.  Or I can slam the door and obsessively seek another distraction.  I know from experience that method isn’t the best.

Off to the heat of the summer.  Remembering that when it is hot, it is just hot.  When it rains, it is just rain.  HA, and when you spill something all over your papers, it is just a spill.

What a funny thing, this human life is!

What if everything was always ok?  What if “I couldn’t fail” was true?  What would a happy girl do right now?

Be happy, enjoy the view, laugh at the slow stiffness, cool morning, time rushing by late for this and that.  Ha!  If everything was good, I’d pass on that daily shower, that’s for sure.  Pretend I was in a quieter country where fastidiousness was not labeled as “godliness”.  That “godliness” was indeed about living in the good.

I choose to live in the good today.  I claim the pause before each word and action to pull that goodness down into my words and movements and thoughts and feelings and breath.  Sucking on the goodness at Her breast.  I like that.  Mother’s milk for sure.

Sure, you’re right.  I’m screaming about the price of goods I’m forced to buy being a human struggling with the spirit that keeps reminding me that I’m more than that.  Ok, great.  I’m more than this, but I’m still here, feet on the ground, breathing, moving, eating, pooping, working, running, driving and on.

It’s hard to buy something that is invisible, endless, all good dressed up as “lessons”.

Excuse me, can I take that life while vacationing on a forested beach island somewhere?  Are you sure I volunteered for this?  I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person.

Actually, struggle is useless.  I have figured that out.  Like a chinese finger trap–the more you pull, the more you are stuck.  Like thrashing about in quicksand (at least as you see in the movies!), you’ll sink faster.  The more you pray for patience, the more you get those tough times where patience is needed more and more.

Give me this life.  I’m paying for it anyway.  Every avatar, deva and godhead on earth paid their price and sat there with a big grin on their faces–or not.  Do it anyway, said Theresa.

Today, I see the gift of what I’ve been given.  The only cost is to receive it and say “Thank YOU!”

It does, really.  And that’s the human part.  Our bodies were part of another person’s body, so when we are pulled from mom’s womb, there is discomfort.  We are taken from the soft warm cushioned life-pod and YIPES!  We need to breathe and the air touches our skin and relationships now happen in real time instead of dream time.

And for some of us, that was the lastof the good days.  HA.  I’m kidding.

Love is the womb and the illusion of our separation from the Divine is the pain.  It is replayed with each time we try to talk about love, touch love, sing love, dance love.  We are humans and love then gets tangled in the body, brain, ideas, lies, manipulation and betrayal–all because we’re trying to love ourselves in a twisted back-ward way.

Human love is really really a hard concept.  What with the body in the way.  But what if having this silly piece of protoplasm around my soaring spirit was the BEST IDEA EVER?!?!?

HA!  So here I am in the universe–one of the LUCKY FEW who get to be human, to see your brilliant blue eyes in your sun-blest face, to hear about the teenage-mom heartache, to wander through grief–all facets of love.

Lucky for sure.