Today I cannot but allow Hafiz to speak once more through me the Divine once more speaks through us both.

We have a racoon that has come in through the cat door and stolen the kitty food.  It is not a messy robber, but we have shut the door.  Now we are safe from masked invaders in the night.

I wish I could steal hearts as easily, but doors slam shut.  Actually, I am not meant to steal hearts, only to sit in wonder at their dance.  We all dance to different music in our heads.  Kind words and sometimes bumpy harsh lyrics, telling us horrible stories about ourselves.  I’m free to listen to any song.

Free to have my heart be daily stolen by the One who set me free..

I’m a writer because I write.  I like to watch the little marks show up on the screen.  I am fascinated with ideas that show up as scribbles on paper.  That anyone can look at this tiny markings and translate them into concepts, arguments, philosophy or babble.

And I am a speaker, of sorts.  I like to talk and tell stories.  My dad told lots of stories and my mom was captivating in her less garrulous manner, packing a punch with few phrases.

So yesterday a woman came up to me and asked–did you work downtown 16 years ago?  Did you regularly go to this meeting there?  Yes, I said.

She started jumping up and down and squealed–it WAS you!  I knew it!  I smiled, but was puzzled.  What did I do now so long ago?

You changed my life!
What?!
You changed my life with your words.  You opened my eyes, gave me a splash of ice cold water on my tired numb world and saved my life with what you said.

She squealed again and tears came to our eyes.

I wasn’t completed sure it was me, but it sounded like me.  I was pretty sure of my feeble knowledge back then, but not afraid to show it off.

Changing someone’s life with my words.

They weren’t my words, of course.  They are Her words.

You see My Love, I am sharing Your words with the world.  Thank you for speaking through me.

The only constant is change.  Seasons seem the same, but are eternally different.  Moves happen, death separates, and the tiny folds in my cheeks grow deeper.  I say goodbye to people that I choose to leave behind; and some don’t even give me a farewell and disappear.

With all this variation in human life, you’d think we’d get used to it.  But there is this hilarious illusion that things have to remain the same.  “It’s the way we’ve always done it.”  “It’s tradition.”  And of course, obsessive habit demands that it stay the same in the face of complete and utter destruction.

Perhaps I am just like many humans–hard to learn to bend at the knees, cry when I need to and move on.

Today I know I am in a little boat with a big God–we keep bumping into each other and laughing and laughing and laughing.  What fun this life is holding hands with Her!

First the fish needs to say:
Something just ain’t right about this camel ride,
And I’m feeling so damn thirsty.
_________________________

Why am I out of the water?  What IS water?  Who is this camel I’m riding on?  What kind of life is this?  Whose idea was this anyway?  I’m dying of thirst for something. 

Wait a minute–I’m swimming in what I crave.  The Divine sustenance is the air I breath, the ground that holds me, the skin around me and the bones that hole me up.  I rest on this ride today and question nothing.

I want to go straight to flat out open heart no exit end-of-story surrender.  No arguments, no contest, no control, no conniving, no excuses yielding.  But I just continue to struggle and wrestle with the day.

Welcome to earth Ms. Human.  You will be constantly subject to the idea that you are in control.  You do have choice, but the hypnotic effect of people, places, feelings, ideas and events will trick you into heart-palpitating excitement and anxiety.  This is the ride you signed up for, so just snap your seat belt into the slot and hold onto the railing.

You will fall off eventually.  If you’re lucky, you’ll be ready for the rest and look forward to getting out. 

But for now, take a deep breath and know that I AM right beside you.  We ARE having fun, and this IS a place to laugh and squeal and giggle, even when it feels that we are going to fly off into outer space without a parachute.

As my first boyfriend said to me, “This is supposed to be fun!”

Open up open up open up like

Hands reaching out for an infant, your first grandchild,
curled up like a fox, nose tucked under its tail,
little elastic pink human newness in your arms.

Flower brazen center nipple fearlessly puffed up
Big fat buzzing honeybee snuggles his proboscis
Deep into your now fruited womb.

Grabbing your lover laughing out loud together
Falling back onto the comforter-topped bed
Tumbling and rolling into the purest present.

Ripping your chest apart with senseless sorrow
Missing the clicking of his toenails on the wood floor
Taking that wet heart and breathing into it
Making a clearing in the forest of the day.

Golden shafts of sunlight memories
Soft moss and towering fir-lined fragrance that
Takes you all the way to your

Office desk cluttered with pinecones and buddhas and
Papers and heart-shaped rocks.

Open up open up open up.

Lab notes:

The labyrinth made of yarn hung on the tall grass in spots.  There was no dew, and it went down with a giggle on the grass.  Millions of blades of rich unique thatched green, thick, dead and glistening alive.  Good shoes allow me to find the holes without stumbling.  Being prepared for life with the comfort of Divine Love.

Some corners sharper than others.
Walking together in step.  Walking at different speeds.

Mountains of full lush berry blossom snowbanks hiding huddled sleeping earth beings, cuddled as tight as thickets can. 

The bushes and thistles tug on my clothes begging me to stay.  To dive beneath their protective shelter and curl up in the arms of Gaia’s love.

Being human and all, I snapped, snarled and thrashed the other night.  A bunch of excuses and no reason.  Just being very human.  The next morning I knew I needed some spiritual solace, so I walked along the lake.

There, clustered right on the edge of the bank of the water, lulled by the soothing soft waves, were daisies.  Bight open full white and yellow full sun daisies gathered together soprano singing.  “Ha!” I said to them.  “You are never depressed.  You’ll never understand what I’m feeling.”

“What do you mean!” yelled out one of them choking down a chuckle.  “Look at me–I’m depressed!!” 

“Sure, sure.  Now you’re teasing me,” I said.  And a eavesdropping duck laughed out loud.

That was enough to remind me that my feelings are just the leaves on me.  I can bend in rain, but I don’t break.  I can succumb to seasons, but I am alive within Gaia’s soul forever.

Today I plan to be a daisy and tease the pouty human self out to play.  The glory of Gaia’s chorus serenades me eternally and my heart is an open and great-full audience.

A soft gray sky allows a dim view of the rolling hills across the sleepy lake.  The mountains are gone completely.  I did not wake the birds.  They were up before me. (I am that I am)  Their underlying symphony rising from the green make it a glorious gray day.The orca rise from the dark and begin to circle in the field below.  The breeze is easy.

Allowing my search for meaning to settle and fade into simple being.  A human simply being.  Like a bird or foraging raccoon or lounging cat.  I bustle and wish to make a difference.  That is what I am I am.  Right now allowing.

Dancing with the labyrinth of life.