So why is it that I crave being with old growth trees, yet I am disconcerted at the idea of getting “old” myself?  Again perhaps that nagging voice of “not good enough.”  That persistent human hysteria that prompts so much silliness.  The arrogant spirit puts down the humble earth.  What a joke!

Thus this weekend when I am nestled beneath centuries of cedars, I am equal.  I am at home thoroughly and every cell in my body is in continuous meditation on the Divine, in the Divine, surrounded by Her, Gaia beneath me, the Green Man above me, the river nymphs around me and the love of Nature’s fragrance soothing me.

The trees are making early leavings.  Yellow shiny, brown crinkled, green gone leaves litter the path.  The limbs do not shudder at this event.  Nor do they complain, yell, cry or get anxious about it.  Wise beings.

Inside me is the frantic racket of human slamming back and forth: You’re late.  You’re behind.  You’ve been procrastinating and now the tasks are piling up.  You’re lazy and never finish any ideas.  You’re useless.  You can’t stay in the moment because there is too much to do!

No time for stillness but don’t want to do anything.

I now release, drop, flush, puke, destroy, delete, dump, relieve, wash off, take off, refuse to put on, now ignore, refuse to see, declare GONE this argument and your pain.

I do not want it and it is not mine to wear around like a penance-vest.  I have no pain–only rides, slides, ladders, shutes, drops, hills, rocks, steps, waterfalls, meadows, cliffs, walls and the path always of mine to be mine to be.  To bump and grind and dance and swing and cry and toss, and bless and curse and laugh and spit.

So it is.  All that is.  I am that I am.

A Buddhist magazine highlight jumped out at me lately: “The mind is compassionate and kind.”  Hmmm, what kind of mind does THAT guy have?!  Mine is jumpy, argumentative, paradoxical and often nonsensical.

“What will I wear?”
“Doesn’t matter, you won’t get the job.”
“NICE attitude, maybe I will!.”
“You don’t have anything nice to wear anyway.”
“Well we have to wear something.”
“My knees hurt, let’s take a painkiller.”
“You don’t really need it.”
“So what, I want it.”
“Oh wow, her brother died last night–gotta call her.  He’s been promoted.”
“I wonder when my dog will die.  I hope I don’t have to help him.”
“Geez all my pants are too tight, I’m fat.”
“I’m hungry, what’s for lunch.”

Ohhhmmmmmmmm.   My chanting soothes this chattering rambling voice.  The simple phrase from this morning’s meditation: The sun is moving south.  Words that calm me.  The Divine is here.  Inside here.  Watching the noise with a Mona Lisa smile.

We are life artists, supposedly, manifesting each day from persistent thoughts and feelings.  Since I was a kid I felt that was true, but that somehow I didn’t get the instructions on the details.  I see now that at every conversation and each moment of my life there have been build-ups, frustrations and urges that brought me to a choice for my life.  Lots of times it didn’t look like I had a choice, but in retrospect it can be seen.

If I can keep my mind and heart faced in the direction of how I want to be, and where I want to be, I do believe that I have a better chance of getting to that country.  Like placing a seed in the ground, if I pick a “happy job/pleasant home/loving friend” seed there is certainly a chance if it is nourished, that is what will grow and fruit.  Plus I have to remember to water and feed this dream, even when it is beneath my vision in the earth building, and when it is a tiny seedling that looks nothing like my desired harvest.

I wonder if I can keep this nourishing practice fresh, as my poor vegetable garden in the yard has withered and the late flowers we planted out front look lost and stunted.

So I choose to shift this self-doubt and lean on thoughts and feelings that nourish me, right where I am, skilled and unskilled, persistent and undisciplined.

I am a young angel, furiously thrilled to be sweating in air the temperature of my skin.  I have a story ready to meet with a spiritual mentor that draws me to prepare.  I giggle at the idea of jumping into a shower of cool water, soaping up, and fresh clothes–even when the wall of hot air sets me to sweat once again. 

And with the gift of Presence, I feel within me the brilliant light of love and joy that is my Divine Heart.  Words are futile to outline this peace.  May the angel of you whisper the treasure breath now.

Someone remarked the other day that there is no such thing as good luck, or bad days, or ups and downs, just destiny.  That sounds a bit like being behind the 8-ball of some predestined (uh, ayup there’s that word again) route that has me, that I have no free will.

Looking the word up in the dictionary, I find that the root word comes from “to make firm, fasten down or secure.”  What if each choice I make in the day anchors my life to a route?  It certainly seems obvious.  But if with each action I take I remember what I believe is my Divine purpose, then each step I take is on the path I choose.  As always, and in any case, I can not fall off the path, even if I feel like I’ve been re-routed along a circuitous detour.

Taking a long slow deep breath I remember who I am and how I encapsulate the delight of Divine and Woman with each singular smallest choice.  I walk gratefully in the fullness of the Path of Heaven.

“I’m melting!  I’m melting–oh you wicked girl, I’m melting.”  Those dying words of the wicked witch of the east ring through my ears this morning with another record-breaking hot day.  Melting is a good way to look at surrender.  Just to be butter in the dish on the counter and slowly dissolve into runny sweet oil.

“To be as willing as the dying can be” is another phrase that comes to mind.  Being near death makes life sparkle with color in a thunderous “now.”

So I sit in the glistening now and let the next action come right up to me and nudge me with inspiration and movement.  I trust that I am filled with integrity, goodness and love both doing nothing, sweating, resting, surrendering, chanting and even slipping into expectation, anticipation, dread and sadness as humans are wont to do.

And at the very core of my being, I melt into Your arms.

Well the trees laughed at us a bit yesterday, trying to cool off by scooting through the northwest.  We sped to the rolling tree-lined water view roads, but the sun was bursting with excitement about its record-breaking stint.  It was just hotter.

Yet in those precious moments when the cool ocean air and the sweet shade gave us those pockets of pleasure, I laid my head back while riding on the back of the scooter and indulged in the shade.  In the tradition of my favorite meditation practice, after diving into the vision that everything is a vibration of love, I asked these towering ancients: What am I to be?

“Be shaded,” they said, “Be cool.”  In fact, it came down to one word: “Chill.”  They are so succinct, the trees, whenever I listen.  I sang to them all the way home.

Today I dive deeper into the exceptional peace of the moment.  Whether blazing hot, sweaty and sticky, fanned or cooled, deeper and deeper I dive into the Divine.

No matter where I move, the body shines with sweat.  No matter where we move the fan, it merely reminds us that it is insufficient to cool us down.  We’re off on a scooter ride to make our own wind, taking a tour of the northwest shade under gracious pines that eat the sun.

I read that the mind is filled with loving kindness.  So much we–I–malign the mind and ego that it is against us, torturing us, slamming us into our “pain body.”  I believe it is just a child frozen in fear desperately attempting to warn us against all change.  As I foresee a life change–new job, farewell to an old canine friend–I am given the grace of doing nothing.

Doing nothing, everything gets done.  Being still, there is nothing to do.  I rest in the Tao today as I fly through the seaside roads chatting with the thunderous ancient trees.

The meditative insight this morning is that there is no such thing as waiting.  Only walking.  Rumi says: Keep walking, but there is no place to go.  No destination–thank goodness.  Only a path that can be a thrill from step to tiniest step.

Prickly bushes now toasting the spots of sun with green, coral and black berries.  All walking at their own pace.  Roots like snakes ready to trip me.  Slow stepping with steady respect for each well-placed foot.  Or not.

Walk while sweating.  Walk with tears.  Under a wasp’s nest, into a glacial river, slow in the shade, slinking from the sun.  One puzzle piece at a time.  Nothing to do and all day to do it.

Sometimes even God just wants to indulge in a day reading a good book.

It’s just a natural part of human life–sidestepping the chitter chatter worry-wart wondering future-past tripping mind.  If I allow it to dance, then the heart can lead.  Whether I get this job, will my dog be alive in the morning, when will it be the time to help him go, will it ever be cool again, is this a stroke or just a pulled muscle??

And the heart hears a different tune: I am remembering who I am.  This is not the truth of me.  My life is filled with loving kindness.  This moment is infinite love.  I am safe.  Safe.  Safe.  I love you I love you I love you I love you.  Please remove this thought.  I am in the river and my feet are icy cold refreshed, now back to the heat of the stones.  Sun.  Shade.

With my dance card listing certain steps for me today, I take time to sit on the side lines, allow the wallpaper to hide me.  I sit there giggling with my Best Friend as She sneaks me sweet tidbits of silliness and serenity.