Lost and found.  Never lost or found.  Always lost and found.  Up and down, back and forth, yes and no, two steps forward, one step back.  Are we just like bouncing balls?  Maybe a racketball slamming against the tiny court walls, or a basketball floundering out of bounds.  Some days, yes some days, it is the crack of the bat and a soaring home run drive into the stands.  Other days it’s that field-long hail mary pass that slips out of my hands and I fall hard onto the cold turf.

Unlike the balls, I have to bounce.  I can’t sit still.  Whether it is as close and tiny as the next breath or looming like a job interview after a dry year.  It could be the day to day walks with the dog, or that day of the last walk.  The next day happens.  One birthday seems to make me feel so old…and then the next year I’m even older.

The Divine for me today is that big hand of a Harlem Globetrotter–swirling and catching, ducking and diving, sneaking and faking the ball of my life around the human court with miraculous control.  Whether I make a basket or not, we are having fun.

You have to be calm and easy with puzzles.  There are poltergiests in there, hiding those certain pieces under or upside down.  If you get frustrated, you have to back off, relax, get a cup of tea, putz around with some other task.  When you return–poof!–they flash it right in front of your eyes.  Or searching for something blue, you see that red piece you have been searching for.

The key is to be easy with it.  Ah that I can take that philosophy and use it in my daily life.  So what if a promised appointment is never confirmed?  Those life gnomes are playing games with me and I need to remember the rules of hide and seek–giggle and squeal.  But I’m usually cussing and cranky. 

When working at a puzzle, I don’t take it personally when a piece seems missing.  I know that it is either there, incognito, or it’s missing and I’ll find that out at the end of the game.  No need to fuss or fright about it.

So today I’ll work with the pieces of my life that I have in my hands.  And I open my hands and my heart to the underlying table of the puzzle of my days–the Sweet Scent of Her love that I can breathe through my body if I take that slow moment for a long deep breath.

I have found this statement “I am that I am” in a couple different spiritual traditions.  “Be still and know that I am…” can be taken a couple words at a time: “Be still and know.”  “Be still.” And ultimately, “Be”.

Over and over again, in super new age language or hidden ancient tongues, it is in the present that all exists.  Power is indeed in the now, the space between the breaths.

In my spiritual meeting this morning, I heard it put so well.  We can’t find the Divine in the past, because it’s not “I was.”  We cannot find Her in the future, because it is not “I will be.”  We only find the Divine right here, right now, sitting and clicking the keys, your eyes moving through these tiny lines on the screen, music in the background, handyman pounding on the house, right in this very second She says: I AM.

It is always fun to break the time and space barrier.   Again and again and again and again and forever and always.

It all depends on your viewpoint.  I’m thinking that we all look out at life through our window of beliefs.  “I’m a victim” will certainly be a window with a limited perspective–little holes of sight with narrow choices.  “The world is my oyster” belief probably needs to keep the window washed often.  Human life just natural gathers dust and rain drips and splatters of dirt.

Today my window is covered with water from melting frost.  All I can see are shapes and colors.  But I recognize that the sun is out and the sky is clear.  Maybe that’s a way to see my faith.  Even when the shades are pulled and I’m determined to be negative, inert and morose, I know the trees and stars are still out there.  When my window on the world is covered with splattered mud from a mistake or insecurity, I have the tools to wash it down.

And whether the window is clear or not, I am grateful for the trust that I can go outside and take a walk, no matter what the weather.  “Come walk with me,” She says.  “Let us be like the nodding hopping sparrows and the firm wet grass–heaven’s play.”

Surrender means to give up.  It means that when my heart gets soggy, I just sit and let the sobs rock my body until I am wrung out of salt water.  Clouds build up, get gray and release the rain on the thirsty earth.  I believe my tears are essential for growth.  At least so the air is cleared and the sky a little lighter.

Clear and cool is the weather now.  Bare pen and ink tree branches sketch the white overcast sky.  The fresh air on my walk reminds me of rest and rebirth.  I can see the activity within the silence.  I recognize the growth beyond sight.

There is a rustling within me.  A pregnancy growing towards creation.  I bow in gratitude for the spiritual pickles and ice cream my Divine Companion serves me, Her soft puppy dog eyes, Her big belly bump of daily jokes that shake me into giggles.

The philosophers and metaphysicians have been wrestling with this idea for ever.  The mystics laugh and play with it.  This up and down emotional travel that us humans feel.  I can’t speak for the aliens or crop circle artists (if any of you are reading this–feel free to send me a note). 

But we feel up, we feel down, we get bored, we get excited, we are enlightened…and then we go back to doing the dishes and cleaning clothes, cheering accomplishments and weeping in sadness.

A violent tragic multiple murder sets me off.  It’s supposed to, I guess.  Recognizing the spirit beneath the material world, I believe there is a deeper meaning to this shock and loss.  Perhaps to remind us to cherish simple beauty, sit under gray skies in comfort, and just be cozy in bed for one more minute with our honey bear love.

It doesn’t matter to me if there is any god or heaven in the beyond.  I choose to believe there is, because it reminds me at least half the time, that I can decide to lean on the love today.  I can reach out for a blossom and stay in that moment.  I claim the touch of Divine Love at my cheek to last forever.

I’m a shapeshifter these days.  I’ve lost a parent, companion and a home of friends called a job.  I’ve felt useless and purposeless.  I’m spending time seeing life as a jigsaw puzzle–very slow to put together with constant faith that the picture will evolve as I move the pieces into place.

So I apply myself.  I’m quieter and watch for more subtle signs.  Time to wash sheets.  Recognizing what needs a scrub.  Searching and finding those positions that fit my skills.  It is willingness that moves me forward.

But it is action that shifts my life.  I write, I read, I move those puzzle pieces.  Sometimes very slowly, sometimes with a brisk walk.  There is no doubt that my life is more than meets my human eye.  Thus I follow the bread crumb instructions from one path to another through the jungle of despair, the shadow of doubt and the valley of death.

It is nice to know that She is there behind each job position.  That my Divine One has set up and cut up the puzzle picture.  And that each morning I nestle my face into Her comforting shoulder as She snuggles back into me saying, “Time to get up!”

There’s nothing like it.  After dinner giving thanks we played games and I laughed so much my stomach hurt.  It is a sign of truly being in the present–just laughing. It makes time disappear.

We laugh at our mistakes, our foibles, our prejudices, our hysterical cultural rules.  Think of someone like Lenny Bruce and George Carlin who threatened us with words we avoided to show us the ludicrous practice of what is not said or tiptoeing around the huge elephant in the room that squashes our lives flat.

Here’s a blessing for all the comedians in the world in my life.  Laughing with my kids with funny stories about those who now have died.  It brings that spirit back into our hearts, minds and right there in the room we defy gravity and are free to fly in love.  Let us soar on the spirit of those such as Erma Bombreck, Mae West and Gilda Radner–women who pressed the envelope through their bras, clutter and cancer to make us laugh at life.

What if life is a human comedy rather than a tragedy?  Again today I call forth the prayer of Hafiz who said:

God and I have become like two great big fat people in a small boat.
We keep bumping into each other and laughing.

I am full of greatness today.  As I carve out root vegetables for the roasting pan.  When I cover the too-big ham with foil for the oven.  Rolling out the dough to fill with berries I picked from my friend’s back yard.  Opening my door for dear friends.  Laughing at little jokes, making yummy noises through dinner.

And being filled with greatness as I tenderly touch the photos of my dog now gone.  Lay a place for my parents who dance above the table and whisper in my ear from the other side.  Send soft love to my siblings who remain out of touch.  Soothe myself for so many many regular mistakes I seem to make.  Kiss my reflection in the mirror that seems still such a stranger to me.

When She, He, It, The Great Nothingness, All That Is, the Creator, Gaia, and the screaming blue jay on the fence sings through me, washing my blood and body, heart and soul, like a heavenly river, I am filled with greatness and flow.

I’ve learned a lot from doing jigsaw puzzles lately.  It is a way to see my life.  From a box of 1000 pieces, I sort out edges and colors.  Slowly I create the perimeter–limits of my human form.  I can concentrate on certain images, like career, relationship, and a garden.  With this piece and that color, tools and information, the picture of the day takes shape. 

Sometimes I search and search for that one piece that seems to be a keystone, but it is not to be found. I’ve learned to let go a bit, start another section, or it is time for a break.  Eventually, no matter how much I’ve scoured the pieces without seeing it–it is there right in front of me.  Letting go of the grip on what “should be right here” again teaches me that only when I release can I succeed.

It can be puzzling, life.  All those pieces and images, halfway created, and then I sit and stare.  What is the use?  Why bother?  It is just a puzzle, a life.  It all of a sudden looks as common as a patch of grass.

But grass cracks concrete.  I pull the passion from the blue jay screaming on my fence in the back yard.  I lean on the love that is sent to me each day, surfing on the certainty of the table beneath my life’s puzzle.  My essential story that She searches and holds me like a puzzle piece lost in a dark corner of the floor.  I am Hers and She is mine.