Take away the job, the daily group that I wrestle with, the buffeting that creates my shape.  Remove the routine of getting up, doing a bunch of things before dawn and categorizing my life into two hour segments, waiting for a rest after a late dinner.  Shed the idea that I am of use.  Crack the shiney shell of being helpful.  Rip off the facade of talents and skills that I seem to fabricate out of tangled yarn and tattered fabric of the past.  Move the children thousands of miles away and millions of miles separated in paths.  Throw in a partner that is passionately absorbed in a successful business.

What is left is a stunned bat.  I’ve been so good at bouncing off other people that without those mirrors I’m left blind in the dark of just me.  The chameleon skin fluctuates dark and black, void and inert, puzzled.  What am I to react to if there is nothing there.

Cover with showerless days.  Put on dark glasses as the sun sets faster.  Pull the covers over my head, take walks in the dark to comfort the isolating urge. 

My sights are set on long quiet days with myself.  Meditation is such a big word, but stillness is where my faith is truly unveiled.  In the quiet of the morning, opening my heart with each long slow breath, She, and He, Tao and Thou, Emptiness and Everything, pulls up the curtains of the human play and I see Her dancing and squealing–“Aha!  I made you look!”