Sometimes things just work out. Maybe it’s the preparation, prayer, setting the stage, reminding myself of the slippery slope. Maybe it’s the moon or Mercury not in retrograde.
And maybe it is just me recognizing that grace simply is. Always. Waiting to be seen. Wanting to be claimed.
Like water in a pure gurgling brook that can cool my feet, be thrown into my face, poured over my head in baptism. I am renewed when I claim this grace.
Bowing to the Divine Sweet One whose fragrance still lingers in my room, Her whispers softly tickling my hungry heart.
What a dance this life is.
Once again I learn a new step–or twelve. This morning I soak in the quiet home anchoring alone. Trees fill the windows. Still. Patient. Steadfast listeners. The distant traffic the waves of my ocean, the gurgle of a brilliant brook, the whisper of the mysterious infinite.
Divine glowing morning tao.
Begin again. Shed skins. Weep to loosen the stiffness in my heart. Fight what seems right. Grip tight to what hasn’t worked in so so long. Stamping my feet in frustration on the Path.
Stuck just as I fall into surrender. Seems to happen as much as breathing.
Sweet One, whisper your vision in my dirty ear. Giggle as you point out my way. Soothe my restless soul.
We went on a trip, inside and outside, to the place of my childhood. From one coast to the other, across the continent so endless below the roaring, bumping jet.
The railroad ties my father placed as steps are still along the side of the hill. My climbing tree has grown. There are tiny handprints in the cement belonging to us years ago. But everything else is gone: house, home, lilacs, elm tree out front, mother, father, family. A parklike grassy hill dedicated to cauderized lifves.
Back again to the lush northwest, the early summer dawn birds bring me back to all I’ve stored inside me. And another cycle of love dances in the trees.
With the help of Heaven,
Everyday in every way
I’m getting better and better and better.
I will be
healthy, wealthy, wise and safe.
Breathe in me the way to love You
That I might faultlessly love You.
Pour me the wisdom wine
By which I am intoxicated with You.
With your silent eyes, just look at me
And I will know where to find You.
Seek out the wandering senses
And lead them back to the sanctuary in Your heart
Call back the marauding mind
And counsel it how to return to You.
You can hide behind life, You can hide behind dualities.
You can hide behind the ocean, You can hide behind daily life.
You can hide behind theological conundrums, and
You can hide behind unanswered prayer.
But You cannot hide behind my love.
In the mirroring light of my love You are revealed.
I wish I practiced Tai Chi every morning Or meditation. Or prayer. But I don’t get down onmy knees or even stretch. My practice is that of a struggling human, remembering the glory of being human, the choice of this delight.
The Tao says:because i am content with myself, I don’t need the approval of others. I wonder if that will ever feel like my skin within. It is hard to imagine a life without wanting o bounce off someone and feel the ball of appreciation come back to me. It was a relfex installed in me a a very young age.
Bouncing Divine Love off the wall of Goodness and Presence. That’s a good mantra for today.
Feel your feelings they say, so your spleen is trim and healthy. Sit in those emotions and let them go all the way through you, open your heart. ARGH. When it is a tragedy of a brutal teenage murder of passion, or a random drive-by shooting from a madman, the puzzlement of the meaning freezes me. I can hardly cry.
I feel for the mothers–even if drunk and angry themselves, for the loss of the sweet chile. Or the loss of the myth that they held a child in love.
The thought that helps is the giggle when the spirit leaves the body and shuffles off the coil yet another time to jump into pure spirit. Imagining the laughter about setting up and completing such spiritual contracts throughout the community family and world.
the word that come to me in meditation was “Splendid!” Not to be pondered, but just to repeat over and over again. Death: splendid!
Time, energy, chance, attitude–life–rolls to me and through me as waves. Sound is waves; isn’t gravity some kind of waves? In any case, I do my best to ride them. I watch surfers off the beach in Tofino, BC bob up and down the crest and fallow, waiting for the big one, for that rush of bliss along the slope of brilliance.
So sometimes I sit, allowing the Divine to guide me through the day. Tiny little neon arrow signs indicate what to do next, how to move, which paper to pick up, answer the phone or not, eat-or not.
In the end, it is about the exhilaration of the stillness between actions when I see Her face, feel the Tao surrounding me, breathing me, that I cherish this human heart of mine.