I am faced with the very human idea of giving someone support and telling them they made a mistake.  What is a mistake anyway–just a detour.  But if I am a gardener and I want only daisies in this bit of dirt, I plant daisies and pull out the weeds.  I’ll let the bright dandelions grow in another patch of the yard. 

Being charged with a task that takes a team, I am dependent upon others–just like life.  As a manager of a team, I am responsible for the project and need to guide, prune and weed this part of a tiny garden.  Somehow I say “thank you,” but this doesn’t work, and you can’t do it like this anymore.  How can I help you be successful.

Hilarious.  Watching water flow, there is little to control the puddles and flooding.  We are a tiny set of beings on a lovely blue-green planet with hysterical story-telling minds. I control nothing; I make up stories.

Today’s story is about being immersed in love, like the rain that drips for days.  The birds are brilliantly busy, singing praises to bugs and worms coming up for air.  All my words come from the sweet fragrance of the earth to nourish.  I speak my truth with compassion.  I clarify my boundaries and celebrate the bumping to find out new border markers.

The ancients believed that if you could trace a circle around a square, you are tracing the beginning of the universe.  The point is the essence of the big bang, the soul’s birth, that point where the Divine spoke the Word.  A line is that movement of being, where the Divine sees itself and speaks “I am that I am” and it reverberates back from the nothingness to exist.

The shape is then an enclosure of space, time, matter and poof!  There is the earth, a four-square base for a pyramid of dimensions. 

I was never good at geometry, and am fascinated by shapes.  But the world and life seems to be filled with anything and everything BUT clear shapes.  The line from my birth to here and now is so curved, so foggy and filled with dotted lines at best.  My heart is not a clear shape.  The loves I have and had do not follow any straight line.  The shapes I have enclosed are but stories.

But I am familiar with the starting point.  It is the center of all circles, the start of all squares, the tips of the stars.  It is that deep breath that pulls in love, sends out love, stands in love.  I claim today that I am IN LOVE.  In the stillness that I find between the hysterical noise of life, I embrace the grace of Her gaze and the truth of Her soft whisper in my ear tingling my neck.  I follow Her breath.

We should have parties just before death visits.  Celebrating lives, remembering stories, crystallizing what people have said and done.  But lots of times death comes too fast, in the night or on the highway.  Still we should have parties.

Humans still weep, though, at missing the presence of loved ones.  That’s just the way we are.

I am a bit numb today.  I have spent the weekend celebrating lives.  One to one, eyes deep into eyes, soul to soul speaking to aches and dreams and fears.  Stories of who they are right now.

I’ve been to many memorials this weekend of some I will never see again. I honor their mirroring eyes and compassionate laughter.

Thanks for the memories of me through you.

I call on the energy of steady rain to keep me constant in Your heart today.  Refresh and restore my soul as I drive by the soothing streams.  Allow me to side-step the valley of the shadow of bad dreams today and to allow the chariot of your love to fill me with ease, comfort and clarity.

I’ve been looking into your eyes, reading the cards for you.  Bright hopes, furrowed brows, darting eyes.  There is indeed only one of us.  In your eyes it is me I see.

Wishing hoping planning releasing and laughing.  We laugh a lot.  We recognize how much spirit plays inside of us with these fabulous dances.

I see you, I hear you, I bless me and we are both the blessed, the blessor and the blessing.

Mending socks means that sometimes you have to weave new material between the threads that have disappeared with harsh use.  Not many of us darn socks these days, but all of us may have experience with strained relationships and ripped families.

Sometimes you can fix them, sometimes you can’t.  Amends means to change a contract.  There are times when my changed behavior–for the better–means we just can’t have the same relationship we did in the past.  I can indulge in a fantasy about former partners supporting my change of heart, but I can’t change their heart–only mine.

I can always use a change of heart.  Today I want my heart to be a big wet nasty bullfrog making huge delicious burping deep calls to spring.  I want to quack loud and proud like a mom duck with nine tiny fur-balls of fast-trotting babies lined up behind me.  Let my heart today be that brilliant and beautiful red-winged blackbird watching me from atop his perch.  Let me celebrate my territory of here and now life and give out a body trembling trill to the universe.

I AM THAT I AM THAT I AM!

That’s what the essence of life is, all, nothing and then something completely different.  The Tao says, “She who knows does not talk.  She who talks does not know.”  Thus a dilemma of a know-it-all, HA! 

But overflowing is something different.  Rather than telling what I know (which, by the way, is useless for YOU), I’m given words that are to be sung.  The brilliance of our continuous connection AS the waves of the Divine Ocean is a melody that fills me up and begs to be shared.

This light-song comes from within and is teased out by nature.  But the view changes, just like the seasons.  One minute I see the seed, and with a flash turn of the head, there is a bloom.  A year or two later, there is a rigid bare branch, or a sidewalk, or nothing.  Stories and memory are part of my palette here, though, and I draw on them every second.

What is fun is that we are traveling along a changing landscape, each of us different yet the same.  So if I talk about an old friend, or death, or self-pity, or beauty, you have your memory/story that follows along–and makes it uniquely yours.

What a kaleidoscope this rainy morning is here.  I call upon my Play Mate, the giggling Gypsy Fairy Godmother.  Let us dance the universe into a day of color. 

Nature seems to exist without doubting itself.  I mean, have you ever seen a tree wondering if it’s growing the right direction?  Bushes don’t hesitate, they twist and turn and seek the sun without fail.  Grass is an eternal teacher of persistence–cracking concrete in it’s path.  Birds don’t seem to wonder if they will wake in the morning, or lie in their next dreading to get up and take a shower, get on the bus and get to work.  They rise to jump into their cheery song dancing at a new day.

Let me live this day in easy peace, comfortable confidence and flowing faith that I am brilliantly true to the Way with each step.  There is no such thing as mistakes.  Even detours are human labels on adventures.  Like every Wise Fool that carried a cross or sat by a tree, I carry all I need, let my magic wand of energy pull me along, faithful friend of nature near my side and raise my eyes up to follow the heavens.

When I step over the ledge, I am flying.

What are my inner urgings?  The Tao talks about listening between the breaths, to the subtle constant flow of nature, the pulse between the noise and moments.  It is an unending practice of quieting the mind.  God love the mind, it is such a fine-tuned organ to warn us, compare, distinguish, note, (try to) remember, and judge.  But it is too busy for love and peace most times.

What an interesting challenge to train the mind to be still.  Then find that inner urging, and rein in the mind to drive where the heart seeks a journey.  Now that is true collaboration of intellect and love–wisdom I suppose.  Balancing what I dream and the analyzing of what can be with life on life’s terms.  That’s where miracles and magic seem to happen.

Now to feed my heart so it can dream.  It has always been afraid to push the envelope of what could be bliss.  Living too close to the next indicated action bring the horizon to the edge of my toes.  I have to raise my head and look up to where the She sings, the Divine flirts, and the tickling sound of Deva’s gurgling streams.

Sweet Lady, bring me Your dreams.

What is it about pouting and stamping my feet and saying “NO!  I DON’T WANT TO DO THAT!” that feels so good?  Is it that little girl that finally saw through authority–or believed she did–and just insisted she knew more about herself?  Or that natural  growing up part of every human that demands individuality and freedom in a childish way?

Dunno.  Just every once in a while I just want to do something slightly “wrong” or anti-cultural.  Not taking a shower, not brushing my teeth.  Small rebellions that don’t do anyone–me, actually–any good. 

Maybe it’s the addict that just wants to be different, that want’s to not be part of the mainstream living.  Or certainly part of that late-blooming hippie that reveled in dirty jeans, no bra and flagrant “up yours” visual difference (that everyone was doing back then!).

Christ, Mary, Buddha, Mohammed, Isis–all were rebels.  Ah that I could be so different as the same as them.