I could listen to the rainfall for hours.  Dripping off the roof.  Pounding on the window.  Splashing on the porch.  Under umbrellas, watching from the window, in the car,  Soothing and comforting.  It makes the cozy inside so precious.

And reminds me that tears nourish.  Storms clear the air.  Gray days are so less demanding. 

Once again today I dive into the core of Her heart.  I walk around with a sandwich board that says “The Goddess walks as me today.”  She is fascinated by the office activities, though I am moved to talk a walk outside and get rumblings when I reach for the aspirin. 

We are a good team and I crave the curve of Her neck as I watch my life over Her shoulder.

I open my eyes with struggle.  Sluggishly roll from the creaky bed. Fumble for my socks that I kicked off in the night. Bump out of the bedroom.  Routine and ritual follow.

Oh that the morning would start with bliss and beauty.  That the thrill of life burst through me brilliant onto the day.  Nope.  Not lately.  Nothing really wrong.  Just in between things really.  A human merely being.

So I sit and invite Her in.  Near.  The scent of lavender is first.  Rustle of wings; the angels sweep the room.  She giggles as they play and try somersaults in the tiny office.  Spirits and sweetness soar through me. A summer breeze through me sitting in the shade of a god-tree at the edge of a huge meadow.

Her whisper of living through me sparks the day.

I am a slow slug this morning.  Fighting the alarm.  Sneaking extra minutes.  Then rushing and slamming.  What a dull game of bumper cars we live in our heads: spirit-human, glory-despair, breath-death, purpose-nothing.  Like a yo-yo game, up and down, back and forth, going nowhere really.

Perhaps it is all about practicing the back and forth, this life.  Getting used to uselessness, enjoying bits of accomplishments, playing with wistful dreams and disappearing memories.  Making good stories sounds like a decent purpose.  But then I’m supposed to just sit and feel my feelings.  BAH.

Glacial ice melts, but it takes too long.  Most days I’d rather just be a tiny rolling stone.

So I want to write about clarity and I sit staring at the screen in a dull catatonic state.  The duties of the morning brought me here and time stops.

My readings meet my needs, inspire some thoughts, but words are a struggle.

It’s death again.  Sort of drags the brightness of the day down a touch.  What AM I doing here?  Why do we wander from day to day?  Who cares and why bother?  Maybe they are thoughts of the addict in my head who keeps waiting for the end of the world so we can indulge in all sorts of mind-bending drugs and alcohol–which, I remind her, is redundant.  As the end of the world will be a trip in itself to experience.

Back to today.  The meaning of life that I have grabbed on to is to collect and share stories.  So here’s one. 

Death is just an elderly doorman, waiting patiently, but looking scary.  He escorts us to the other side, but when he closes the door behind us, the living who are still on the planet just see this unmovable ugly man of shadows, grisly face, piercing eyes.  Just doing his job.

See you soon old man.

Limits are merely shadows of the edge, but they define my life.  Death is always lurking.  Relatives that were parameters of my childhood now fade away to the other side of breathing and memories.  Then is not now.  Here is not there.

What do I do with that information?  Why visit old relatives but for the rehashing of memories and the flood of tears as I drive away?  Sure, tears are human sign of love, but what is the use.  The rain nourishes the earth better than the salty water from my eyes.

Wander the earth telling stories.  That’s the instructions I get. 

So here’s the story today.  In the dream, I go into a fabric shop.  My mom and aunt would frequent them, buying piles of lovely cloth that would turn into a dress, or stay in the closet until after their death.  They are both gone now.  But in the dream I happen upon them in the shop and abruptly confront them: “Hey, you’re dead!  What are you doing here?!”

And they put a finger to their lips and shush me: “Shhhh!  Don’t tell anyone we’re here!”  And I tell the story whenever I can of their companionship and quiet joy.

I claim that peace as I still wander the earth today.

This word has two meanings: to play and to bring about creation once again.  And perhaps that is a hint to us humans that when we were created–as we morphed from clay in the earth–it was play.  Fun.  Make believe.  Laughter.  Joy in bringing something new into the world.

Kids know how to play if they are given safe space.  Give a 3 year old an egg carton and some wooden blocks and there will be experimentation, noise and a creative mess.  But it is harder for us grown-ups I think, to feel safe in a mess, be ok with a failed experiment, laugh at a funny creation.  We have so many serious expectations of our selves.

What about having faith in the way things are?  That would be a new and creative way to live this day.  Instead of struggling against each piece of news or change in procedure, delay in traffic or disappointment in plans, just to trust the flow of the river.  To see change as play.

Now there’s an idea.

The Tao says to be like an infant: curious, open-minded and without prejudices or “templates” of what the world is all about.  Infants put everything in their mouth, testing dirt, bugs, fingers, computer mouse–everything with their new-found sensual perception. 

That’s a lot like an addict.  But an addict has this “template” expectation that it will help her escape from the front-row reality of the day.  The infant wants to learn more and more emotional experience of this world.

it is the empty space that makes the teacup functional.  It is the open air in a doorway that gives us a path to the next room.  Thus the unknown next action, the foggy fearful feeling, and the new year “older” that will show us as the brilliant paradoxical being of spirit that I am.

Making mistakes is the way humans see their spirit core.  At least that has helped me take the flowers of fantastic errors I’ve made and let them decay into rich soil for the soul.  Hopefully.  At the very least I have good criteria to aid in better choices.

But being an addict, saying “I’ll never do THAT again,” just doesn’t work.  Addicts have a powerfully hypnotic mind.  “It will work differently this time–the weather is different, it’s a new day, you understand things better now.”  But we keep doing the same things over and over again and expecting different results.  it is like the Veil of Forgetfulness drops behind us as we leave the front door.

Today, I’ll let my feelings help me.  Those unique human qualities that we try so much to brush aside.  When they whisper “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I don’t have to understand the feeling to honor it.

And the good feelings, such as indulging in deep meditation on the smooth cheek of the Divine as She rests on my shoulder, is bliss.

The human and the spirit are connected in the breath.  As we breathe, so we fiercely integrate the body and the heart soul.  Without breath, we are done with this earthly experience and on to another spiritual experience somewhere else.  Not sure where or how, but that’s my story now.

The breath and air make the world go around with wind, exchange with plants and animals, earth changes, ocean currents,sunspots–they all mix with the breath of this planet.

And when I breathe deeply and slowly, my body remembers my spirit and detaches from the hypnotic mind hallucination in front of me.  The staff member puzzled and anxious does not make my blood boil.  My partner’s obsessive tendencies are not so bothersome.  I sleep better and my body rolls and surf the earth changes better.

Today I practice breathing with my heart.

Let us live our dreams.  Fight for rights, talk for peace, speak goodness.  Words live on so much longer than these frail human bodies of such brilliant purpose and grace. 

For our sons and daughters.

Today I breathe in the perfect crisp winter air, walk carefully on the ice, and bless every moment on the planet.  I bow to those who give their lives for these dreams.