I have altars here and there around the house. Little gatherings of tribute to remind me of the Divine in my every day all the time, as I move through the house is with me.
On this table-we call it the dining room table, but we rarely eat here–is a statue of Quan Yin with her robes flowing out into the breeze, her eyes cast down and her hand pouring out her endless compassion. She stands two wide petaled lotuses resting on turbulent waves. She is ever at peace.
Next to her is a card handmade by my brother in prison, the colors of the Eye of Horus cut from tiny pieces of magazines, with a border of many patterns and a deeply touching poem of how now he can see clearly.
Scattered at the Goddess’s feet are two little laughing elephants, a frozen starfish, two pinecones and a handful of soft round rocks. These are fresh rocks from the beach on Whidbey Island. And as always, there is a vase of flowers, a symbol of my eternal bowing to Her grace.
I wish I was like the Little Prince. He chased the sunset around his tiny planet. I would follow the sunrise. Darkness yielding a soft eastern light. Coral clouds turning into bright angel dances. Blue dark, mysterious, then baby egg soft shell. Birds frantically excited as if it is the first dawn. Silhouettes of pines brushing the air for the arrival of the star.
And then there is light.
Once again the day is to follow my faith in filling up with the Divine and letting it move my feet and hands.Filling up and overflowing.
The Tao doesn’t care, as it is merely a Way. But how to walk this path? Motherhood, survival, employment–all handled. Now time shrinks and looms simultaneously. Passions dry up like a puddle in a drought. And living a life based on demands and passions now seems a withering legacy.
Helping others has been my default motivation. I am forced these days to re-think that urge–is it for me, or them, and what about me? Tiresome thoughts that trip me into escapism. I just don’t have the muscle build-up for goals, never had the training, am ok with the end of the game, not keeping score. Much.
So today I release all reins on how I am supposed to be, feel, what I’m supposed to do and let my God Nose–God Knows–lead the way. I trust Her, I love Her, I lean on Her as my Divine Purpose. Besides that, Her giggle entices me.
A wonderful weekend of sitting in my bliss–time disappearing, reminding those who sit at my table of the love, possibilities and brilliance of themselves. Tired bones that are not quenched with rest. Pruning the rose bushes in warm spring sun, cutting them back for beauty and strength A movie with my honey.
Now the depths of doldrums. Pulling reluctant body to face my place as cog in the works of humanity. I am the center of the spirit and matter–still so very new at this play game. I hear the birds, watch the bright open dandelions I pull from my lawn and bow at their wisdom.
Sweet One, let me face Your shining light. Show me Your everpresent nourishment deep inside me. And please today, let me not take myself and my sluggish body too seriously.
Maybe I’m meant to be a giver, as that seems to motivate me–to give time, listening, energy and money to others. I’m being mentored to sit and give to myself, which i find difficult, tiring and even boring. I wonder why that is.
I give to others who may be using me. I feel taken for granted some times. I say “no” more often too. I practice balance as best i can–imperfect at best–normal human I guess.
Today I have a task, so i feel a purpose. It is extremely short sighted, office politics spurs me on to be noticed and organize a project. i notice and appreciate any motivation these days.
Now off to wash, despite my inner argument to pass on a shower. I feel like a cat that is forced to be dunked in a lake each day–I growl deep in my throat and threaten to slice the hand that washes me.
i lean back into the Hands of the Dear One, as She giggles at my restless irritable self!
Living at concordance with the flow of life–that seems to be the Way. But I feel out of the flow somehow. Like I’m stuck in wirey bushes along the edge of the river. I can hear the rushing flow and the soft gurgle, but every time I move I seem to be stuck.
So I don’t move. I know I am safe. I don’t want to die. Watching a dear friend wrestle with that old waiting ghost chills me–wondering about the sum of my life. Judging myself and then finding the hole beneath my feet widening like quicksand of despair.
Ick. I need to get out of this spot! So let’s be grateful that I am not in prison for another 5 years, pulling spirit out of hidden books and slinking in the background from loud dangerous people. I am grateful for a rewarding job–in that I get paid well. I feel needed at work, and since I’m a codependent that is useful. I have a comfortable home life.
And I yearn for the whisper of my God. Be still and know that I Am. Today I will listen more for her sweet Song.
How can I keep my heart open as the sky? Letting clouds, storms, even days of dreary rain just be rain? What would work to hold my mind as free as the earth–allowing mud, earthquakes, and spring to do what it will with my body?
Somehow it would mean giving up this idea of trudging with the pouting resentment, or sludge of emotions dragging me down. A goal and purpose more than the next trip I suppose, that reaches beyond the uselessness that clouds my vision at every turn.
Ok Sweet One, I call on your Presence. Rock me softly as I lean on Your purpose–to feel life and love through me. Bless us as I allow you to feel this wandering around what looks like a dead end, hoping so much that my heart opens up to Your Sky.
Thank you forever for the spring bird at dawn.
Do your work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.
“Step back” is the key phrase there. I do my work and let it be. I can’t continue to put a stroke here and there on a painting that cries for release. My children no longer can be guided, but cheered as they go on their Way. A seed once planted does not need my coaxing fingers.
Nothing encourages spring but rain. Seasons evolve as the world turns toward or away from the sun. My mind–my dear human born brain–is guided by my heart that yearns for comfort. My head is too-filled with headlines, admonishments, politics and pleasing others for the illusion of survival.
My heart giggles with the birds who rise before dawn chattering their excitement that we all turn to face warmth after every sleepy dark night.
Just a note before I go into the day.
I watched the dawn this weekend. My quarterly tribute to every ancient celebration of the season. I laid out the labyrinth, walked it with my shadow teasing the dear welcome sun.
Let me feel the dawn each moment I reach for it. The clear brisk air from the lake. The solemn mountains waiting to bow to the light. The shimmering lake moving like a river. The brilliant bustle and trilling songs here–there–up–soaring of the birds who rise to sing the sun up from her rest. The hawk who appeared solid and unmoving in the far tree; then disappeared suddenly.
The eternality of morning. May it enlighten my heart.
Sure haven’t found that to be true early in the morning. I want to let go of the day before it starts and be “fulfilled” in more sleep in the cozy bed. Doesn’t seem to work that way.
Each day I walk the tightrope balance between surrender and next right action. People come right up to me for solutions; i rarely have to wait long for this prompting. There are times I make the call to suggest a pathway–sometimes I get a nod, other times shot down. Risky business life.
But it is just life. On a planet with billions of lives, the risk is smaller than the most indistinguishable atomic substance that supposedly is at the center of all reality. The smallest is the center–there’s a hope.
So today I will look to the tiniest word, look, phrase, to be centered. A paper once from a great towering tree. A pen that brought hundreds of people together in manifestation. Flowers on my desk reach out from another universe speaking brilliance and acceptance.
My centered body once more relaxes into my spirit.