Dear God,

In my next life, I think I’d like to be a bird.  I’ve always wanted to be an elephant again–they are so huge and loving and have such a good loud noise!  But lately I’m getting fond of the bird’s life.

I could be an eagle and hang out near the bridge that I drive over these days–black body, like a royal sentinel, white head tipping back and forth, spying through the lake waters to the fish darting beneath and below.  Or perhaps I could be a marsh wren–a tiny chubby bird fluttering from bush branch to another with a huge insistent clacking voice.

Or maybe I could be an osprey, spreading up my full wings, spanning my open heart, soaring over the marsh waters in glory.

Yeah, that would be nice.

And Dear One, thank you for being the feathers on my wings, the wind in my hair, the love in my heart.

Well, my prayer is for peace that surpasses understanding.  But maybe it’s my understanding of peace that is messed up.  Maybe my craving for no chaos, no confusion, freedom from doubt or discontent–maybe that’s the mess up on my part.  Maybe living with a body filled with peace is something different than what I seek.

Maybe just breathing through the day and watching the trees–now that would be peace for me.  Sitting and watching the sun (or the rain) move through the light of this tiny planet twirling and swirling.  That would be enough for me.

But perhaps that is truly the same as clicking the keys, buying plane tickets, listening to someone cough unceasingly, cold fingers, late for work, interruptions, moving, packing, meetings–maybe all that is like watching the wind waving at the branches and listening to the raindrops on the roof outside my bedroom window.

Wouldn’t that be a nice peace?

4/25 – Buried here.  Rooted here deep and unmoving into Gaia’s soul. Safe.

12/8 – Keep the quiet.  Make a stand.  You are beutiful in all weather.  You are loved and love–that is all the protection needed.  (from the Trees)

11/21 – The lilac tree is bare.  Branches like grief wave to me.  Salt water tears would be invisible to an ocean crab.  A non-dawn day.  Two hay bales.  Hey.  Affection and love is a cleaving energy–once the bowl is broken, the water flows.

Birds eating berries.  Sparrows scatter as I pass and cried when together at the thought of it.  Flowers are blooming still.

No parking but for the birds.

Remembering love on earth is touching the cheek of the Divine One.

A friend says she’s discontent with organized religion of all types–even the “believe in what you will” kind of churches.  She really wishes that we could all just talk about how we can make our lives better and help the world be better.

What is better, I wonder?  I see the religions define this to the dismay of many others in the community.  Is the fight for the unborn better?  Especially when they are then brought up in horrifying conditions?  Is the insistence upon a specific dogma–even if it means our “salvation” really improving the world when you have to kill people to impress upon them the urgency?  Not really sure.

For me today it is opening my heart so the Light inside of it can shine out.  It is feeling the real warmth in every cell of my body that declares the soft tingling of the Divine One at my neck, whispering sweet nothings in my ear.  This, truly, is better.

What is the light inside of me that always wants to shine out?  And what is it about me that pulls that bushel basket over my head like the covers early summer mornings when the sun is so bright?

Doubt is a human game piece.  What’s the right thing to do?  Should I say what I feel, or do I need time to really recognize what it is that I feel that is meant to be said?  Ever since I found out about the myriad universe of feelings between being hurt and rage, I’ve been puzzled if the feelings need investigation or clarification to others?

Maybe the light of clarity is just like the seasons–sometimes clouds are just clouds, sometimes it is a long night, and sometimes the rain takes over.  But the Light is ever-present and I can feel it always warm my heart.

There are many ways that I feel called.  I have been given the trumpet in my ear, the deep glowing Divine focused-gaze and stopping-me-in-my-tracks insistent message to speak for Her.  That’s why I write here each morning–I am a flute being as open as I can to convey Her love for you.

And then there is the mundane calling of stepping up to different roles in my life.  Putting on new hats, nicer shoes, better glasses and looking into the eyes of richer men and posing solutions to normal human hysterics.  An organizer, a human wrangler, a managerial artist–you can call me.

But actually it is just the same calling–to hum a lullaby of love that soothes the soul as we traipse through the unmapped forest of other souls.  To remind everyone of the bumper car rules as we slam and scream–the rollercoaster of life is for fun, not for tragedy.  And when tragedy does hit, just sit together and weep for the dust to dust lovely bones that we are.

Always called to walk the Way.

I love that there is no such thing as time.  We fill it with stories and partition the seasons and the day into the tiniest increments that we pretend to cram filled with important matters.  HA.  It is an illusion–a hypnotic one, nonetheless–that takes us hostage every day.

So I have to watch out for the bugger of “not enough time”  or “lost time” to grab me by the heels and flip me over into hysterics.  It is amazing how we are tripped up with wires and bumps of non-reality that we make out of life.

I claim timelessness today.  There is no deadlines, I have no rules of when to arrive, no schedule of “this and that exactly at then”.  I am eternally free of time, like the insistent birds outside my window in the gray rainy morning.  They sing of the thrill of here and now.  I am the softly dancing branches of the red maple that waves to me. 

Come play with me, She says.  Let me have My Way with you in an endless divine dance.

What would it be like to be addicted to satisfaction?  Never getting enough of feeling that I have enough at every moment.   Just in each second of every day having a deep sense of fulfillment without having to DO anything?

They say if you practice sitting in the bodily feeling of happy completion–whatever that means to you–it creates a vortex of magnetic energy that draws you to–and events to you–that re-create the moment of plenty.  The world organizes itself to bring that feeling to you.  But then again, if I have the feeling inside of me, I’m already completely successful in my achievements.

The feeling for me would be sitting in front of a big window looking over my back yard of trees and flowers, a cup of hot fragrant tea at my side.  I’d be contemplating the sense of joy after speaking about my Divine connection to hundreds and thousands of people–somehow.  Looking over a crowd of faces and just channeling through to those dear hearts the immense comforter of warm love that fills my body with so much soft light that I am a firefly. 

It is the feeling that I am humming and buzzing the news of Her giggling grace, reminding everyone to dance dance dance!

The weather is another place where the “good and bad” story is told.  Oh it’s a GOOD day–it’s SUNNY!  Oh, I’m so tired of this bad (rainy) weather!

Of course there is no such thing as good or bad weather.  There is weather–and then there is our personal viewpoint of judgment placed on the magnificent immense idea called Earth.  How funny that we are so egotistical to judge the weather of this beautiful planet.

And I can bask in the rain and sit in the sun.  I can warm my face to the Light and let the mist nourish me.  I am a plant that is rooted in the soul of the soil.  I stretch up to drink in fire and water feed me, earth holds me and the breath of the Divine keeps me fresh in this paradise of Her love.

This is to the big You of me, the Presence that is not really out there, not really me, but truly Here and Now You.

What is the difference between being alone, isolated and being true to myself, ok with myself, right sized with myself?  Is it ever the case that we find a love we can talk to all the time about everything?  I don’t see that.  So where is the borderline between what I can expect from my best friend and what I can’t?  What if everyone around me seems to think differently than me?  What if I feel crazy sometimes that everyone seems to tell different stories, no matter how close we seem to stand looking at life?  What then?  What now?

Is it a silly promise someone led me to believe that love means the other person can read your mind?  And if they could, would, should, isn’t it right that they would soothe me, respond, care, and converse about the deepest parts of me?

It’s a good thing that this is to the Lady, and not my earthly love.  Earthly loves are just as distracted with their lives as I am with mine.  Funny how we are all so self-centric–and isn’t that about taking care of yourself?  So what’s a codependent to do when she wants others to be interested in her?

Hilarious once again this human life.  If we are one, who are you and who am I and where do one of us begin and the other separate and us being as one?

Ok my Dear One, I feel better now, seeing the joke in all this.  I am One with You, and I will spend the day dancing in that today.