Ok, I’m in the deep human fun today–my earth-bound mind and body telling me I’m achy, bored, tired of this getting up and going to work routine.  I hope I live to “retirement”–ha.  What a funny practice this living in the Western World is.  I’m sure humans everywhere get it–though I could be wrong.

I wonder if saints love every day.  From what I hear (saints are sinners who say their prayers), a real saint spends some time in the human hell of disappointment, boredom, tragedy and stupidity. 

Well, it reminds me that I certainly have felt worse and caused much more pain.  So, there, that makes today look pretty mild and good.  Nothing like a change of perspective to brighten the morning.  Things are alright.

Tao is the movement.  The material is the movement, everything is movement.  But trying to lock anything down into a frozen substance is a hallucination.  You can dissect a frog and learn a lot about it, but it will never do that delightful miracle of a jump ever again.

The mind is desperate to categorize, determine what “this and that” actually “is” so it is safe.  Nothing is what it is.  Everything is more than what it is, and trying to define it means you’re lost to the illusion of human life–distracted by the minutia and missing how goes the flow.

But that’s what us humans do.  Watching out for typos, wondering what the noise is in the other room, hearing the nagging voice that I should be in the shower by now.  Living with the spirit and honoring the spirit.

The sand flows to and fro with the wind on the beach.

When I am content with myself, I am not comparing myself to others, not judging them out of fear, and comfortable with my missteps.  I do not react in compulsive emotion to reduce conflict or save face.  I know my feet are on the path, whether solvent or sad, creative or cranky, hurting or happy.

But the mind is never still.  It chatters continuously about this and that should be here and there.  and vice versa.  And in reverse.  And contrariwise.  Inside, outside, upside down. 

Allowing the mind to wander like a madwoman in the woods, muttering to herself, is a practice.  She is not dangerous when I refrain from arguing with the insane.

Breathing slowly, I bow in honor.

I just don’t want to do what I know is a good idea for me to do for my mental health.  Just don’t want to do it.  It’s out of routine, will stick me in traffic, demands emotional intimacy and sharing of my personal state, being nice to people in the morning–UGH.

That’s one of the problems being an addict–the voices inside tend to want to DIVE into whatever is dangerous, stupid, adventurous, escapist, distraction with adrenalin rather than take my supplements, go to spiritual meetings, be around friends, do service, take care of myself.  The voices say “BORING”.  It’s just the way of the addict.

And the recognition of good feelings that inevitably arrive after these “good things I can do for myself” is usually a quiet little voice in the back of the mad room inside my head.  “You’ll feel better after–you always do.  You’re always grateful you did.”  agh.

Does everyone have these pouty vs. good voices–two little angels fighting in the head?  Doesn’t matter, they are mine to work with.

Today I do the right good thing for me, and let the pouty one just pout.  Sullen resistance simply happens for humans. But as we all know: Resistance is futile, Dorothy.

In gratitude for some kind of awareness today.

So here I am, a little piece of protoplasm infused with the endless curiosity of spirit slugging through the morning like, well, a slug.  I refuse to get up and put my glasses on, so I’m squinting at the screen and making all sorts of typos. 

The Pacific northwest has lots of slugs–in fact when I first arrived many years ago, I swear I saw a slug race–about 10 big wet mush slugs traipsing across my path.  Well, smushing across the path.  They barely move…but get where they are going all the time.

So, like them, I will get through themorning, to the afternoon and another dreamy night to wake again rubbing the sleep from my eyes and traipsing through the dark house to the kitchen.  To be here at this little laptop, spilling my human/spirit slushy guts.

So much for spiritual inspiration today.  My God loves us slugs.

So the phrase read this morning was “what is right or wrong is not the issue.”  That is, whether you are wrong and I am right is not what this journey is all about.  This reminds me of the saying, “Would you rather be right or happy?”  Which addicts like me figure is a trick question–the inner monkey voice says “you can only be happy if everyone knows you’re right!.”

But accepting things as they are–not as I’d like them–turns out to be the practice by which I find peace.  My chant is often “set aside for peace of mind”–over and over again, reminding me to set down my bone of contention and rest in the moment as it is.  It is my meditative practice to remember that life is not meant to be as I want it, but as I surf it.

When I accept the present of the moment, not reacting, I can respond with integrity.

Yeah, and (the nagging voice says inside me) a brown paper bag will carry my lunch.  HA!  That’s what practice is all about.  I doubt if I get to a concert hall, but peace is just around the corner.

The spirit plays even when I don’t talk about it.  Family, kids, holidays, presents, solstice celebrations and vacation distract us from the normal routine.  And rightly so. 

Like “New Year’s Day”.  As if this really is the first day of a year.  It is an arbitrary date set by an ancient government.  But I appreciate the chance for reflection.  What will this year bring?  Here is a day that I can set an intention to hold throughout the year.  An opportunity to re-choose my direction, purpose, attitude and method of playing.

Human adventure and another cycle of the sun.  Blessed be.

The Master is detached from all things; that is why she is at one with them.

To be detached and “at-one”.  To be standing aside from the chaos and yet knowing that I am in it, as part of it, swirling in the waters of what will be, is and has been.  To be “atoned”–together with, being as “one” with All That Is.

This is today’s prayer.  Watching the river flow by me and jumping in and splashing at the same time.  Perhaps human life is that back and forth fun.  To jump in the lake in the hot summer, cool off and then lie dripping on towel on the warm sand.

Because I let go of myself, I am fulfilled.

Inextinguishable you–me.  The Tao says to express myself, to ask “what is it inside of me that still is unexpressed?”  Even if it is raw dark murky slime of feelings, I have to get them out like cleaning out a glass.  So that more can refill it again and again.

What is unexpressed in me today?

I stand for clarity, I cheer on myself through tasks.  I let myself get excited about family visiting for the holidays, knowing that their visit will disappear like a wisp of morning fog within a week’s time.  I declare myself, my space, my happiness, and when I get tired of sitting, driving, moving, cleaning.

The Solstice is upon us–ahhhh the sun returning, the hint of light that is ever-present yet hidden so often.  I praise the glorious Light.

Sometimes I seem to have too much courage, but it is really more like resistance and frustration.  I tend to push and insist.  What I seek is courage to be patient, to wait until the next right action comes right up to me and move my hands automatically.  I pray for the ease and stillneess to watch the river of events and reach out for the perfect ripple to caress in the waves.

I can’t change the river–the flow, the power, the majesty, the terror, the force or the beauty.  I can jump into it and let the swirling rapids take me away in whirpools of frantic bubbles.  I can claim an unsinkable raft made by my faith, fashioned by conscious spiritual contact and travel to astounding countries along its sweeping course.