Why is it that so many mornings–well, many moments–I feel like I am anchored deep in melancholic molasses?  The day stops.  Birds keep on chattering, crows complaining, traffic rolling in the distance.  And I sit with a pouting stubborn cranky child inside my old aching body.

“I don’t want to do ANYTHING!!” she screams, fighting it all: the simple change of the day, plans for the future, preparation for change.

A deep breath.  I am open, gentle, loving and accepting that I am restless, irritable, cranky and discontent.  I am sad, mad, frustrated, unprepared, worried, anxious and overwhelmed.  The heart and mind shake hands, friends on the path.

And a prayer.  Dear One.  Sweet One.  Blessed Spirit of All That Is and Isn’t, I claim Your Presence.  I sit in Your room, this room, lean on Your song, this birdsong and share Your Breath, Your Peace and Your Grace.

And so it ever is.  As it was in the beginning and ever shall be.

One of the whole ideas behind this human trip is to remember we are at one with All That Is.  At one.  Atoned.  Made right, brought together, aligned, embraced and embracing it all.  See the world as yourself and there will be no hope or fear says the Tao.

Thanks to all the speakers, writers, readers, voices that remind me.  And so I remind myself through you and you through me, any such reader out there.

Balancing Oneness and the tiny individual Me-ness.  The breeze and the birds remind me this morning, here and now.  Always.

We create our lives from our beliefs, feelings and intentions.  Why is it such a surprise when we get what we have created?  Why can’t I understand the cryptic messages my body gives me?  Or why do I ignore them, argue with them, struggle with the truth?

Sounds like an artist that is unsure of what the canvas, marble, paper, clay is calling, being called, asking.  More listening instead of “figuring it out.”  Figuring it out is different than listening for the Path.

I bow to the Way of Heaven.

That’s our life.  Says Pema this morning.  And beneath it all, within it, throughout it, embracing it–is our natural internal wisdom.

I guess what makes it weird is the fumbling around.  Bumping into walls going to the bathroom.  Pouting at work ahead of me.  Wasting time reading junk novels of romantic myths.  Where is that deep spiritual knowing–gnosis–then?

Self love means that I am nestled into the arms of My Beloved.  She is holding me, rocking me like an infant to the sweet lullaby of Her love.  The birdsong reminds me.  The trees so true and green.

No matter the sky filled with colorless clouds, the earth is beneath my feet and the dear Path of true love is calling.

Loving the pain doesn’t sound right.  But I do believe that if I send love to that which is painful–in my body, in my life, in my relationships–somehow love will find the Way.

Love is, after all, the Way, the Truth and the Life.  The Christ, the Buddha, the Bodhichitta inside of all of us.  Loving kindness is the core of us, no matter how much the coral reef of illusion collects around us.

The practice of discerning when I attach to an illusion and the detachment of giggling at this normal everyday continuous human experience, is, well, hilarious.

Ah, but if I could as much remember how Hafiz see this: God and I have become like two fat people in a small boat–we keep bumping into each other and laughing.  Let’s laugh.

The gift of the Presence is always present.  And the rest is hilarious laughter as I recognize my distracted forgetfulness.  Like standing in the middle of a treasure room with my hands over my eyes screaming, “I can’t see!  I’m scared!  It’s the end of the world!  I’m terrified to move!  Where am I?!?”

Here and now I take off my blinders and open my eyes to glory and grace.

“Rebellion dogs our ever step.”  Some might recognize the source of that quote.

And another similar passage from a different source: If my soul is not completely “blended with the Light, the areas of resistance become human.  The less necessary the human experience becomes, the less stern the schoolroom, the more of a sweet kiss life can be.”

Ah.  That’s what my severe crankiness is this morning.  In the face of so much grace in my life, I pout.  Lessons, yes, but if I can see them as a reminder, that I already have learned the lesson, I can release the schoolroom, this precious world, from my snotty scorn, restless irritation and morose melancholy.

Wouldn’t that make a nicer human day!?!  Sweet kiss of life indeed!

Ahhh, the soothing voice of an old mentor–Emmanuel.  To find your path, listen to your heart.

The challenge, of course, is when it argues with the mind.  When the heart takes me on rocky paths, unknown terrain, scary dark roads, the mind screams about money, security, loneliness and loud stories about future illusionary problems.

But the heart is true–to love, to bliss, to goodness, birdsong, dawn, sweetness of seasons.

Sometimes the mind pretends it is the heart with clutching desires.  It is my path to sit and listen.  If it clutches, it is not truly the heart, but the mind desperate for attention.

Then I give it some love.

I plan to move in a couple of months–across country.  Thus I am sorting through papers.  I have saved much for many reasons–kids stuff, cards received that remind me I’ve been loved and appreciated, tiny bits of memories–friends, lovers, partners, children– and writing.

While I do not spend much time on each decision, I do often stare at scribbles with flashbacks and tears.  It takes the most yet tiniest NIT-picking (“next indicated thing”) amount of faith I have to pick up another piece, move to the box beneath and allow these memories to flow.

Going with the flow with Divine Whispers of wonder and stories of deep love.

So this is all about the fabulous adventure of being spirit and being matter at the same time?!  What does matter?!  What doesn’t!?  Why am I here?!   And why do I care?!  Little considerations like that.  Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only person who wonders about these things.  Since I was a kid.

Then the Tao reminds me that hope and fear arise from being stuck on the “self”.  If I see the world as my self, these disappear into the sweet breeze waving at the trees.

What an adventure.