I am human.  I make stories out of nothing.  I can stare at a glass that is half-filled with water and one day freak out that “it is NOT GOING TO BE ENOUGH!”  The next day I can thrill to the cool nourishment that is there.  And another day scream: I ORDERED A HAMBURGER!! (Gary Larson inspired that, yes).

As I watch the circulation of the season around me–from dirt and dead dark leaves to sprouts, clusters of seed pods littering the path, sweet rich smell of rainy spring, tiny daisies peeking out in the persistent carpet of ever-present green grass–I can see it as cause and effect.  Or I can see it as a flow of goodness, a spiral of continuum that is never ever the same.

Cause and effect is boring, actually, and just feeds the frantic obsessive mind to go back further and further–if this didn’t happen then this wouldn’t have happened.  If you didn’t do that then I wouldn’t have done that.  If I was never born then….until we all just get sick to our stomachs, eat potato chips and watch TV to drown it out.

But going with the flow of seasons is surfing on beauty.  The rain colors the world green.  Cleaning refreshes my heart, touching my home with gratitude.  The old dog is here and now, but I don’t have to hold him in sadness for tomorrow.  The Way has twists and turns and drops and rises, rock slides and rain, sunny stillness and deep snow.

It awaits for my story telling.

This whole idea of human thinking is pretty funny.  I can instantly think my way into a scary ghetto where everyone is running and screaming “Run for your lives!  We’re all going to die!!”  Yet it is a divine gift, the brain.  Again–don’t put your hand in the fire or stand in front of a buffalo herd.

It is thinking in moderation, though, that is the practice.  Balancing it with the heart, the body, the air, the seasons, that seems to be the journey’s path.  But with regular pauses, practicing the pause, wisdom (intelligence plus the heart) does seem to clear the Way.

So I thought (hahahah) that when I think, I might remember that it can be: Tender, Heart-felt, Intuitive Now Knowing (THINK).  Thinking can be tender.  I can use my brain to listen to my heart.  Allowing the flow of Divine Breath to catch my sails.  Staying in the now instead of then, future, past comparisons.  And “knowing”–well, I’d like to rephrase it as “gnosis”, that deep sense of right size right place right time hearing the birds again in spring, smelling the flowers blooming, watching the trees turn pink kind of “knowledge”.

Tenderness in my thinking today.

Over and over again today: easy easy easy.  Easy is what does anything.  If it isn’t done with ease, it is done for the wrong reasons.  Hurry is what is called the “devil’s work”.  Now I don’t believe in the classic “devil” as an evil force combating “good”.  I see it as grabbing the shadow negative “I’m never good enough” side of life and using it as a flag. An old lovely story of Lucifer (of Divine light) is that he was strong enough to volunteer to tempt us–always knowing that the Light, the Good, the Truth and the Way was real.  As humans we’ve chosen to play the GAME of good and bad.  It’s not real.

But I don’t want to camp out in the shadow that torments me today–“I HATE DOING THIS”  “I’ll never find a job in this economy, there is too much competition for too few jobs”  or “This is HARD.”

Today is that breathing is easy, moving is easy, scheduling at a moment’s notice what comes to me is easy.  Saying “no” is easy, clarifying borders is easy.  Recognizing that I’m making every stinking choice for every single minute of my day is EASY.

I am human.  I make meaning out of nothing.  Therefore today’s meaning of my life is to show brilliantly how easy it is to feel, find, delight, shine, share, enjoy and do goodness and kindness.  Starting with myself.

My life is filled with loving kindness.  My life is good.  My life is peaceful and at ease.  And my life is happy.  Join me.

One of my favorite chants is: “Grant me peace beyond all understanding.”  I used that over and over again seeking a calm mind before I realized it meas that I won’t understand it!  It was eventually revealed to me that “Figure it out” is not one of the 10 commandments, 12 steps, 8 fold path, isn’t mentioned in the Tao Te Ching and has never been a principle of shamans.  In fact, when I surrender to the path, I’m declaring that I don’t have to concern myself with where the heck it is going.

So here we are with this “brilliant” human discerning mind, comparing this and that, there and then, here and now so we don’t get trampled by a buffalo herd or burn my hand in the fire or get slammed by a 18 wheeler.  And then it get’s so sure of itself and lying in bed before touching the floor it decides that the ache in my belly is cancer, I’m late for work, get fired, lose all my money and am on the street alone and unloved.

I pass on this “figuring out” the future.  I let go of understanding the path.  It is gravel, it is solid earth, it is the inspiring breath of wind, it is the fire of each step, it is the sweet water tears of the sky and my eyes.  I throw myself on the path of heaven.

The leaves and the trees remind me to eat the light, rest in the shadow, drink the rain storms.  Sun warms and has my back, even when my own shadow surprises me.  All fear is my own shadow.  Some days are spent dancing around the room punching at my shadow; I never seem to connect with a punch.  The shadow laughs at me.

Shadows aren’t real, but they are the fear that keeps me from bursting my light.  I often loose sight of my spirit-infused human (merely being) inside this dear tender skin of Gaia.  It is an essential partnership.  The spirit wanted SO much to be part of this beautiful blue-green orb, and the earth-ashes-rock-water-fire desired with all it’s heart to feel the urging of Divine light from within.

I close my eyes and feel the eternal fire of Her star within every cell of my body.  I shine my smile on the shadow and we dance.

I’ve always liked the edge of things, the edge of life.  A late-blooming hippie, hitchhiking around the country, risking health and limb to the adventure.  I’ve been told that I need to have and take  “safe” risks in my life (rather than ruining families and getting into public trouble as in my youth).  Thus I ride on two-wheels (when it’s not snowing), tell people I read astrology and tarot against all cultural odds, and fiercely believe in goodness at the core of us all.

But sometimes the path takes me right to the edge of a cliff and I can’t see ANY path into the future.  The drop makes me dizzy and even the other side of the crevice is a jungle.  There are vultures and ravens screaming at me behind my back and the fragrance of spring and lavender before me.

Luckily I’m not afraid of death–I’ve had lots of experience with slow tedious suicidal tendencies (tho clearly chicken at any substantial intention–reincarnation beliefs nag me that I’ll just end up in the same place).  But fear of the unknown is hypnotic.  I cling to the visionaries who pierce the nothingness with their ideas, and with no visible sign of support walk on the air to the other side.

Today I’ll inflate my helium balloon of Her Grace, sit in a basket with a picnic, babble my dreams into Her giggling heart and go with the flow of Her breath.  The Presence is the Path.

Ok, what’s the spiritual and metaphysical significance of being dizzy?  Wrong food?  Too much going on?  Low blood sugar or no protein?  Blonde?  Or maybe it’s just a side effect of the windy day out there.

Confusion is always the opportunity to slow down and look at what I’m afraid to admit. Don’t want to accept a gift?  Receiving hard for me?  Well, that’s certain.  Maybe it’s that DNA shifting.  Phew.

What comes through me today is to be the windy day.  Let my head be dizzy, my mind be distracted and my heart unsure.  I slow down to walk and hold onto the edges to anchor me.  Choose cozy.  Decide on comfort food.  Speak simply and determine the smallest next indicated right action.

No matter the wind and blustery day, my roots in Her Dear Arms are eternally secure, safe and sweetly kissed.

So the message today was to be FULL, filled, open and overflowing with joy and love.  How the HECK am I supposed to feel FULL, when the hypnotic illusion of reality feeds that yapping negative dog inside of me that says “Nope, not enough for that.  No, you won’t do for that.  Hmm, don’t see an opening for you there.”  The story of insufficiency.

It’s a crappy story and I don’t like it.  I’d rather feel full, like walking in the chaotic spring field, brown slowly yielding to green, robins patrolling for mates and nesting materials, geese honking their path through the sky to the south.  I want to jump off the edge of the fake cliff of old beliefs and soar into the unknown of yet-to-be-with wings of faith.  Even trampled slashed briars are perfect; why do I question my worth so easily?

Just watch your feet, She says.  There are stones in the path, just step over them.  You have boots that keep you warm and dry in muddy deep puddles.  Watch your step for roots ready to grab you and rocks sneaking up as you are distracted with green springing along the path.

She grabs my hand, a morphing fairy child and energetic grandmother.  Hold on to me, I will sprout wings and we will soar over the crevices, float upon the rapids with terrifying thrills, and thrive in the snowfields with my fire.

Hold my hand and be full.  Be full.  Be filled and full.

Green is the color of healing, of the heart chakra, of shamrocks, of really disgusting looking beer–today anyway!  I’m just not sure I could eat a green bagel either. 

But today is a good day to simply be green.  Be taking the sun and making leaves.  Be shining anew again and anew again.  Be green–be naive, open, willing with a beginner’s mind.  Green is not talking, but listening.  Not planning, but watching.

Yellow–color of mental power, light, clarity, warmth plus blue–color of the endless sky, intuition, feminine gnosis equals green.

May I stand sprouted brilliant green–clear and intuitive–open, willing and watching.  Be-ing of grace.

A tiny white crocus smiles at itself in the middle of a wild field–planted, sprouted in snow, blossoms for a few days and surrenders to another season of seed.  Tightly clenched still-sleeping English daisies covering the hill in contemplative dots cling to the comfort of the grass.  It is not yet dawn on this gray morning.

Be a path of grace.  Be a conduit of the Divine Creator on earth.  Enjoy creation: mud puddles, wind-flattened briars, broad territorial calls from the tallest tree, chattering invisible hoards of exalted sparrows.  Dead blackened leaves scattered and true, sqwaking crows, soaring snail seaplanes tracing their daily path to the city. 

I am a path.  With my faith-full boots I can walk through the muddy womb waters of rebirth.  Today I walk with the Divine hand in hand.  I am a Way.  I am a Truth.  I am a Light.