Today’s message was that being a human was a gift I gave myself.  Like what I really really wanted for Christmas was to be human.  And then I forgot that I really wanted it, and now sometimes carry it around like a horrible burden fruitcake that tastes heavy and a tedious requirement of the boring holiday.

A gift to myself–not to “be” for others, not a present for the world, not a co-dependent “how am I doing making life good for YOU” kind of thing.  Not a mothering effort, or a big sister duty, or a tit-for-tat friendship thing–a truly highly sought after desirous delightful perfect gift.

Wow–look at the leaves waving at me through the window–how cool!  And the earth covered with grass so tiny and powerful cracking concrete when we aren’t looking.  See the tree roots push up sidewalks like a local earthquake moving tiny neighborhood plateaus.  The clouds so completely covering what I know is a blue true sky, hiding the majestic unmoving mountains as if they were never there.

What if all this was a spectacular lavish Taj Mahal gift I gave myself?!  I would be out in it, and watching every stimulating second, whether at work with dynamic intriguing interactions, at home with deep intimate mysteries, and walking the earth-path beneath the huge living candles celebrating me–the trees.

Happy birthday every day to me!