They say to cling to the Tao like a shadow, but to move without a shadow.  To move with the Tao as if I am it’s spirit angel, but to move through life without any wake of debris.

I really am not sure, being human, that I can move through this life without a wake.  Everything has a wake in the material world.  I am not THE Tao, I am one with the Tao–different.  Even birds leave an indistinguishable wake in the air as they fly, boats on a lake, me talking through life.  My hope and goal and practice is that it is a good “wake”–ha!  That when i am remembered, it is for a smile, or a laugh, or a kind word. 

But today Dear One, I want to cling to you like Your shadow, stepping in Your steps immediately as You lift Your precious foot. Hiding behind you like a gigglng game.  Wrapping myself around Your shoulders when You face the Light.  Whispering in Your ear about my endless love.

it is a generational story as it is a routine.  I am happy–sic–that I believe I can change myview and mood to a happier stance with mental manipulation.  Conscious and deliberate action.

Everything has a story–the lilacs outside my window, the cup holding my tea, the tossed treasures in my desk basket.  These stories influence my feelings.  I like lilacs, and might go out and pick one before i go to work.  I love the little funny things in the basket–notes, pens, an intricate carving of Ganesha, an egg cup holding paper clips–they all present on my desk because they soothe my mind as I lazily wake to the day.  I have struggled to carve out this little view.

And this writing is a practice of happiness, to remember the divine’s touch, scent and caring–no matter how She shows Herself.  “Indeed” She says, nodding at me from within the crow that prances on my deck railing.  “Indeed.”

I am called by ideas.  I am stalled by ideas.  How can I nourish the calling and ease the stalling?  Here is my prayer:

Sweet One–call me out.  Dribble honey traces along the Way of Your wish.  Send the spring birds to wake me out of my complacency.  Whisper soft energy songs to my old bones and body.  Lift my spirits with Your smile.

Remind me that You are always near, nuzzling my neck, pulling my hand, raising Your brilliant eyes that move my feet and hands and heart and soul.

Move me. Use me.  Wake me.  Love me.

in the now is Tao.  The Divine.  The power of the present.  It is so fleeting that most of the time, I am stuck with a foot in the past and a foot in the future, the crevice in between freezing me.

I write, I correct, i go back, I think, I go forward.  I’m chilly.  More tea.  Need to go, maybe not yet.  The chatter is endless.

I am that I am.  It is in the infinitesimal second that I stand timeless with the Divine, sunlight, peace, deep presence of wisdom.  I crystalize this “now” for all time.

God Knows, after all.  So following Her Nose makes sense on those days that nothing seems to inspire, the doldrum of the human ant’s life whines endlessly before and behind me.  So I allow the Divine to play the human game through me.  What would She want to do if She were me for a day.

When I release myself into the nothingness that is reality, and leave all my stories behind, I am freed from the stories.  But it is a difficult practice, as the stories stick to me like marshmellow fluff, sweet and pervasive.  It needs a concerted effort to wash these old tales of adventure and woe off my sticky brain.

So today I let the breeze go through me without a barrier.  Open inside forever.  Letting the spring mating furiously singing birds fly through me, the bumblebees humm as they lick the sticky sweet love from Her Lotus within.

The Tao shines from the inside out–making me, they say, radiant.  My feelings don’t feel radiant, they feel like sludge.  or the May mud that shows up in untilled gardens.  Flowers always seem radiant–and trees–even if they are shedding or dying or white washed bones along the rocky shore.

Nature is natural radiance.  I should take a tip from these non-thinking, non-feeling ever-brilliant beings.  But I’m a human this time, and cranky, self-righteous, pouty, snotty, wanting things my way, despite hills, tides and landslides.

So today I follow my God nose-since God knows.  Sometimes She doesn’t tell me clearly though.  Sometimes my pouting gets in the way of hearing and seeing her path.  I’m a human, remember, not a soft fawn tracing steps to the river.

There’s my prayer today.  That if I am still on the Way, I will hear the rushing river, gurgling creek and tinkling waterfall of Her Love–giggling as she plays hide and seek with me.

Supposedly they are the sam.  One of the definitions of acceptance is to receive a gift.  But accepting bad news or a disruptive change in my life does not feel like receiving a gift.  And it can take some time for me to feel that way.  Or try to adjust my attitude to feel that way.

But change simply happens.  People move, trip plans change and my  motivation for throwing money at it (as if I could) to change it–won’t change it.  It is me that has to change.  And that aches.

So I will take some time to ease into this difference, honor the love that shows itself in sadness and tears.  I have space to go through the stages of acceptance: resistance (which, of course, is futile), anger, bargaining (that’s where I am now), wrestling, struggling (two of my own stages), sadness and resolution to a new stand on the earth.  Until a quake shifts me off balance again.

The trees are eternal.  The earth will be at my feet forever. 

Thanks for a good job, sustenance plus, friends, the earth, weather that nourishes me, a cranky stomach and this table.

Tea, drapes, paper, Quan Yin, flowers, mugs, scooters, fanny packs, dogs, brothers and placemats.

I appreciate TV, the off button, couches (and look forward to a new one), and the ability to share my story with others who might be sometime seeking hope in recovery.

and all who wander through this day are definitely not lost.

Wander, wonder thankful

Too much to eat last night–chocolate truffle making class has done me in.  I had too much.  And now I feel not enough, empty, aching, dull-witted. 

The constant mental plague of humans is that “I’m not enough.”  Funny how when we feel this way we indulge in anything we can get our hands on.  Trying to fill a spiritual hole with material like food, clothes, other bodies, money, accolades.  And the more we imbibe, grasp and scramble, the more gaping that inner abyss of emptiness.

Thus I sit opened up, split and gaping, a cavern of space.  May this be an open field.  Allowing for rich dead loam of the past to fertilize me.  Ready for seeds to root and grow.  Wildflowers to roam.  Bees to nestle and buzz.  And grace to flower.

I like the house in the morning–stillness.  Sound of rain dripping outside.  Clock ticking.  Cat scratching.  “Be still and know” rings so true.  The troubled waters will naturally clear if the turbulence simply ceases.

And this is the time I practice the pause that refreshes.  Just sitting.  Allowing the Path to surround me in gratitude and brilliance.  Soaking up the goodness of the now.  Breathing in the peace of the here.

I crystalize this moment in my heart, my eyes and my limbs, taking it with me–a moveable altar.  I bow to the Lotus Within.