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.

Sometimes we take the spectator role in the games of life.  Sitting in an arena, thousands of people jump to their feet, screaming, jumping and waving white towels furiously above their heads cheering their team to victory.

I play on small courts.  Games that I can win, like scrabble, and games of fun, like cards or dominos with others.

Some days I fold my cards and play out.  No betting, no screaming, no running around with a ball.  Like today, I just let myself be a spectator and enjoy being in the crowd watching the brilliant game of life.

She is sitting beside me, thrilled that we can sit together, and grabs me and yells: What a FABULOUS Game!

I spent hours and hours yesterday watching miles and miles of trees.  Tall skinny trees, fat thick trees, wide leaves, and needle-point.  They sweep through my mind like a stiff soft brush that massages my tired tangled scalp of thoughts.  Tingling my whole body with sweet scent of pine and tender earth of moss-rotting trunks.

I’ve seen mountain tops with scraggly scruff wirey trees holding on to indeterminate cracks in the granite rockface, wearing down millions of years of solid stone with tiny tough roots of would.

All I have to do today is be the strength of me where I am planted, eat the earth in front of me, sway in the wind of words, and breathe the Spirit that tends the World Tree inside me.

(And this is the best part that didn’t get into that poem:)

My
favorite game is when She teaches me to dance.

We
trip over our feet, stumble on each other and giggle,

Building
up to soft evenings when I let her lead.

We
are fluid movement

cheek to cheek

            fingers clasped

swaying sensuously
with

celestial music.

How can you play a game with an opponent that seems invisible?  Or that you feel sometimes you have to strain to hear or understand?

Easy.  You just play.  The pieces of my life move just fine without trying to figure it out, seek out the prior cause, explain the “why” of what happens.  Just play the cards that are dealt.  It is, after all, just one hand of the game.  You will either think you won or lost, and then we all get another deal, another set, another inning, to get up to bat once again.

And as my mom always said, “You can’t strike out unless you get up to bat.”  So catastrophizing about what might happen is another way to stay on the sidelines.  If you don’t make mistakes, you’re not taking risks.  All the skilled competitors didn’t wake up skilled, they practiced and practiced and practiced.  And then some of them got to Carneige Hall, and some of them played real good for free.

I’m off to stretch and tune up for another line up at the goal line!  My Dear Coach is screaming Her love always right behind me.