I had a request for this topic!...  About the time I started teaching school, Martin Luther King Day became all the rage.  There are so many approaches when it comes to kids, but the school had hired someone to speak on the topic.  You can probably imagine the exact words said.  They were predictable, positive, generic.

On the playground of this private school, the first words of racial hatred were uttered that day.  The kids had lived for years in peace, in harmony, as one (ya, exaggerating)... but in pointing out the differences, the egos were offered fresh blood.  They were given power to declare separation, that one individual was "better" than another.

Every winter, schools across the country use the reverse tactic regarding the holidays.  Many remove all reference to the differences, pooling the public as if there was no uniqueness.  Happy Holidays!  Omg. How do you stand that?  The private school allowed us free reign.  We celebrated EVERYTHING!  We did Dwali, sparklers and all.  We put straw into shoes for the Wise Men to leave gifts for Epiphany.  St. Nicholas came on St. Nicholas Day, and we were swarmin' in Santa Lucia's as well.  Christmas rocked, as did Hanukkah and Kwanzaa.  The kids were thrilled, amazed, and incredibly happy to be within a world of diversity.

How do we find that?  How do we accept that each of us has something to offer, that our differences are the glory of our creator?  The wick for this rocket was a teenager who is currently bisexual.  Judgment surrounds her like the stars around the satellite.  She doesn't feel that she fits in with any crowd.  She feels like the space around her is impenetratable, that she does not belong.

What is the truth?  It seems to me that All are created in perfection.  Who are we, as minute beings in an expansive universe, to pass any judgment whatsoever?  Who are we to even attempt a definition for perfection?  Who are we, anyway?

Here's the deal:  I'm not fond of Bambi.  I shy away from Where the Red Fern Grows.  It pushes my limits to deal with the polar bears in the Golden Compass. 

Imagine now, me in the room during "I Am Legend".  My husband assured me that enduring it would be worth my time.  Oh ya, violence, blood, death, gore, machine guns, tense moments followed by shocking leaps from your seat.  I'd say the movie has it all.  The pet dog even dies.

But, here's the surprise center of the Gobstopper... it's overall theme is GOD!  What?!  Where was I?  What planet do the reviewers live on?

Go back and check this out.  Where did that name come from, "I am"?  Seem familiar?  Has that term only come up in a bajillion spiritual writings, including the Bible?

This wasn't a movie filled with dialogue.  Actually, very few minutes of it had more than Will Smith involved.  Yet why did the woman show up and save his butt when he went ballistic?  "'Cause God told her to!"  And in the final moments, when Smith's character realized his ultimate task, came to a slow motion awakening that pulled him to his ultimate and spectacular self, what did he credit it to?  Yep, God! 

Hmm... surprise.  I can even cry about slasher/hacker crap!  And in this case, I'd even recommend it to you, highly recommend it, for the MESSAGE : )

What kind of perfection can we expect in this world?   Do you look for dents in the car door, or hairs on your clothes?  Do you correct the position of the remote control, or dust the cabinets before there is a visible layer?

The only place you'll find perfection is in the Eternal.  Quit looking elsewhere, put no effort into attempts to do it yourself!

Last night there was no moon, won't be for a couple days.  The temperature was neither hot nor cold.  The skies were dark but soft.  And in driving home from a wonderful walk to the Falls, the heavens lit up in flashes, and rang out with mellow percussion. 

Obviously, we're near the 4th, very near (25 minutes and counting).  But this was not the work of man.  We stood outside to watch... watch the lightning illuminate the forest, see the shadows cast by the clouds.  We watched for endless moments.  We were silent, reverent, in awe.  

Tomorrow's fireworks cannot hold a candle to the experience.  Divine pefection leaves nothing to desire!

Oddly, very oddly, I was talking to a teenager about health as it pertains to spirituality. Omg! She was asking about "fasting", whether that was my point. Heck no. But I did tell her about the principals I've read in Hindu stuff, about renunciation of all things human. So eating, well, not really something you're supposed to do for pleasure there. Heck, that's the point of renunciation right? The definition? Deny the illusion. Aren't you glad the beginning premise was food and not SEX today! Know thy enemy, the belief that this is reality! Pretty straight yoga principal.

So as appealing as Hinduism is, as much as I LOVE the Bhagavad-Gita, as much as I enjoy Shankara and trying to decipher the reality that yoga isn't something you do on a mat at a health club, as strange as it is for me to deal with Kundalini style energy that I never asked for, renunciation is a principal that I have mixed feelings about.

I think that there is some reason to hang out on this planet. At one time, I watched a video that had the masses of spiritual people gathered at the Ganges River. So many men had given themselves to full time renunciation. They sat on the cement street corners endlessly, without thought to the outside world, or, rather, without the intention of thought for the earthly world. (Beware of birds overhead.) It's a path. It would never catch on here.

In a lot of ways, I'm glad for renunciation of worldly concerns when it comes to the Ganges. The elevated dead are dropped into the waters whole (in loose concrete boxes?, or was that just a Disney effect for cinematography, like lemmings off the cliff), yet the people on the banks bathe themselves in that same water as an act of purification… something my daughter said is "just gross". Renunciation of worldly concerns, hmmm, health concerns anyway.

I can't imagine a "God" that didn't want us to notice the enormous beauty and love and joy that surrounds us! How sad is it to think of people renouncing those things in order to get closer to their Source! I hope it works for them, and works well, 'cause otherwise there are millions that are going to feel like Sally after the Pumpkin Patch Incident with Linus.

Luckily for my teen friend, she just needs to align herself, to listen to that which is within. I have a feeling it will end up pretty liberal! We went to lunch. I ate a Caesar salad; she had one of those Greek things that I can't spell… rhymes with beer-oh. We stayed away from the newest line of bottled water, "Ganges Gold".

 

I have teenaged daughters. They aren't normal.  Ok, truth be told, there is no parent in this realm that would call her "teen" normal... but I'm NOT kidding.  They're truly not normal.  When their friends spend countless hours playing Wii systems, surfing the "hot or nots", and watching a dozen crime scene shows in a day, my kids basically do two things.  They read and they write.

There is endless, blissful silence at our house.  How did that happen?  From what movie did these alien deviants sprout?

Today I was thinking about the behavior of American people... and then the behaviors of American parents.  Busy is our mantra.  We don't have a second to ponder a flower, much less consider our Divinity.  Did my husband and I do something wrong?  Did we do something right?  All I know is that these particular fugitives from the Men in Black spend mega moments pondering the world, creating, philosophizing.  I am soooo blessed to know them!  They inspire me. (They scare me.)   They are our hope for our future!

How did this happen?  Could the experiment be replicated?  I know we didn't provide them with endless TV when they were young... yet we didn't deny them the brain death either.  There were just more interesting things happening (like play dough and dress up).  They learned the computer, the video games... but those things weren't given and taken as rewards and punishments.  The bubbles on the deck and helping mix up cookies had greater appeal. 

They did extracurricular stuff, even before they were school aged.  But, I'll admit it was hand picked.  Flouncing at creative dance won out over regimented ballet.  They took art classes that didn't judge an unrecognizable end product.  They went to co-op preschool where they were supported in WAITING to learn things until readiness appeared.  Oh ya, they had little toddler schedules like the best of American progeny!  However, between the times of structure was stillness, the chance to be lost in the world of the Eternal, an invitation to build fairy houses from moss and sticks, to create forts out of blankets and chairs, to play carelessly in the pool (rather than swim the laps).

In the last decade that hasn't changed.  We still watch the schedules.  ANY activity that demands insane and chaotic running is the enemy.  We eat dinner as a family.  But living is busy!  We just do our best.  We ponder ahead.  We consider the value of each moment, the value of how we play those cards.

I think I recommend this, the focus on wholeness, the spaces without structure.  I don't know that I was taught it.  There is no certification for parenting, but I did do tons of classes.  Did they say "hold still"?  Or in college, when I trudged through my Early Childhood Certificate and BA in Elementary Ed... did someone say "shhhh, let them unfold"?  I don't remember.  Maybe the enlightened ones did.

And now, of course the girls have myspace accounts, listen to ipods, drive themselves to activities, "hang with their peeps". They do and use those things in extraordinary ways, to support friends and the evolving world.  And then they go back, back to the silence.

 Well, this could be a religious or philosophical conundrum... but it isn't.  Om is a tortoise, actually, a taxedermied tortoise.  Sometimes he travels with us, for our amusement more than his own.  He represents, hmm, well, dead things maybe?  For our bizarre group, he stands for what was once a small god in Terry Pratchett's book by that name, Small Gods... awesome read if you like fiction with underlying spiritual messages.

Om needs to get away, off the TV stand.  The TV is never really on, so he doesn't get much entertainment.  And  frankly, we aren't that amusing in this room... lots of typing, but what else?

Perhaps tomorrow, he'll journey to the Falls with us, with the teens, with the powers of all nature and all love.  Or maybe he'll just experience it from where he is.  That's the cool thing about being OMnipotent, OMniscient, OMnipresent, and "not with the living" : )

 

I don't mean pesticide!... something more along the lines of genocide, suicide, spermicide, HOMICIDE!  I'm driving along innocently and I swear that every moth in the county is rushing at my car on a crazed kamikaze mission.  One after another, and sometimes in multiple synchronistic termination, they die at the grill, splat on the windshield.

It makes me ponder.   Karma.  How many spiders will I have to remove from the drain? How many mosquitoes will I brush off with a tender reprimand?  I realize that some of you know me.  You know that I carefully remove all insects from the shower before hitting the spigot, know that I rarely swat anything that lands on me, even the blood thirsty.  But don't saint me for that!  I do it because that's who I am.  Like, I have blue eyes.  There isn't anything to ponder there.  So how do my Karma points balance in regards to insecticide?  Hmmm.

A while back, I came to a theory about moths.  I had watched them with bug zappers.  I considered their behavior with porch lights.  (I'm thinking my thinking might be what's in question here.)  I decided that moths are confused as to their position in life.  They keep "going toward the light".  They don't realize it's not time yet!  Perhaps when it comes to these winged friends, I'm ok... I've just helped them reach their spiritual heights.

 

Try these words in a room filled with teens:  "Put your thongs on and head out to the car; we're leaving!"  Trust me, there will be laughter.  Those innocent little shoes, once coined "thongs", recently underwent a massive marketing transformation.  "Flip flops" are all the rage.  Well, so are thongs.  But thongs are butt floss connected to the anarchy symbol (when you look down anyway)... appropriate.

Somehow, this relates to the marketing blitz of today's religions.  It's cool to be Buddhist or Pagan, just out to be Catholic or Hindu... and so on.  Ridiculous!  Trends and  definitions bolster our egos, separate us from the goal, turn the journey away from the moments and into a quest (out there, far away, in Nevernever Land). 

If people considered the possibility that the specifics don't matter, that everyone could be "right" at the same time, the faces of religion would blur.  Then what would there be?  World peace.  Unity.  A landslide of "Oneness".  I think it's worth a shot.

An insurmountable task... why is that a term?  If it truly was insurmountable, then it wouldn't "be" in potential?  Hmm.  I digress.  So, day camp is next week.  But somehow that hasn't been on the priority list.  I could worry about it.  I could work on it (I have been a bit today)... but ya know, it just doesn't scream out for doing.  

The kids love spontaneity.  They would much rather take a walk on the trails than do yet another craft.  They like to make up their own chants, their own skits, declare the purpose of their own time.  

So why have I spent so much energy on this each year in the decade before?  I can't answer that!  I can't even find an ounce of caring for the time wasted.  Pathetic or miraculous?  You choose.

Ah, and you thought I was going to retell the story about the kids sliding perilously down the cliff, nearly dropping from its face into the deep, turbulent, icy water of the Stillaguamish river near Granite Falls, caught at the last moment by the hand of God (in the form of a tree). But I'm not.

Or perhaps you believed you were going to hear about the moments when the car was heading down 164th toward Mill Creek in a depth of snow, when it turned literally all the way around, 360 full degrees, returning to its tracks and continuing on down the four lane highway, untouched, unbelievable. Nope, not that either.

Now you're thinking, oh, maybe this isn't Elmo's world, maybe there is some form of poetic license… maybe the story to relive is about trying to tackle "a path" to awakening when there isn't one there, when the only thing to handle is the moments, the only thing to do is to look for the truth within right now. Wrong again (but at least in typing that one, I'm legitimately living in one of those m things).

Today, the mountain was smooth and well groomed. There was not a rock or tree or sled in the course. The Sun was warm and bright and ideally loving… and the slope to careen down was sheer bliss. Thank you for being there! Thank you for being it! Much love to you all!

48.  There were 48 crayons in a typical box when I was in school.  Then around the time elementary ended, we were introduced to 64... with a built in sharpener!  Wow!  And now, right here in front of me is a Crayola box with 96. 

Colors like robin's egg blue, granny smith apple, gel fx (what?), shocking pink, and wisteria join red, yellow and blue.  I bought this box for some teenagers I love (not my own, 'cause they don't care).  They sit for hours adding hue to novel creations, or filling in the lines of coloring book pages, carefully, exactingly.  I chalk it up to meditative practice.

The crayons are here, cluttering the computer desk, because I was coloring mandalas during a conference call.  It was incentive to sit still for two hours.  Not really incentive enough.  I wasn't very still, wasn't very interested.  And the Mandalas randomly bored me too.  I kept stopping to wonder at myself, wonder why I felt that way.  I held myself there, and just wondered.

As the crayon box grows, as the spiritual explosion of the age consumes... my relationship with computers has been spun into the next realm.  Did I really need to learn systems like myspace and gaia?  Is skype something that moves me to more usefulness on this planet?  Ponderable.  But then, everything is something.   Everything is nothing!

I long for a box of eight crayons, for utter simplicity.  I  want to rein in the multiplicity, and unify my world.  Although I appreciate the vastness of the options, in crayons, in spiritual teachings, my heart begs to beat a clear and effortless rhythm.

...and there was laundry!  Tons of it.  I'm not really sure why God thought of laundry... but perhaps that's more of a human invention anyway.  God didn't put clothing on Adam and Eve... ergo, ya, no laundry! 

Anyway, after a week of Day Camp, there are a lot of things stacked and waiting for attention... bills, dog hair (oh boy, if you only knew how much dog hair), toilet scum, and a mound of gear the size of Pilchuck.  There is probably a lot of empathy for my circumstance, since this is "vacation season".  I know that most of us NEED a true vacation after any travels that we endure, after our time off, that thing called vacation.

Hey, quite a segue!  I want to define vacation!  Today a clerk asked me if I had any exciting plans for my weekend.  He didn't care.  But he asked, so I answered.  I told him that my family had been working at Day Camp all week, and that the last thing I wanted was excitement.  I told him what I wanted to do was sit with an enlightening book and meditate, and do nothing else, for a day or two or a week (or for the rest of my life).  Vacation.

And although, I admit that has not been the unfolding of my day, because life does roll on... I do know that being present with the Eternal is the ultimate vacation.  A walk with the birds at sunrise before unloading the truck, a few minutes of meditation after shopping for birthday gifts, pondering the (perplexing) words of my Spiritual Director while loading the washer... reminds me that life can be the vacation of our dreams!

Seventeen years ago, someone so unique, so bright eyed and interested, so very distinctly certain of her own direction, entered the cold, bright, perplexing world.  Happy birthday Nyasha! 

I remember your clear, staring eyes more than anything.  There was nothing that escaped your gaze or your analysis (so weird for a baby!)... and it's the same today.  You amaze me.  You remind me.  You are truly a shimmering facet of the Mystery of life : ) 

So seventeen years ago, there was hustle and bustle, midwives and doctors, family and friends, excited for the appearance and celebration of new life.  What fades with the years, but never with the stories, is the overwhelming agony that accompanies the appearance.  This particular story has plenty of drama, but it's really unimportant in so many ways.  Twenty four hours of a lifetime, nine and a half months of a lifetime... disproportionately vivid.

There was ONE moment of particular significance, a glimpse into pure surrender.  Eric would laugh that I even admit to what brought it about. 

Back labor.  If you've done it, you know... if you haven't, you can't imagine.  Horror movies do it justice.  The feeling is truly that of your spine pushing to exit through your skin.  The bruise left from the counter pressure I begged people to apply was literally a foot round.  And I eventually thought drugs were the way out. 

I think it was Demorol?  Anyway, we WERE forewarned.  Control freaks will not like this drug.  Do not do it if you are into control.  It was on my birth plan, avoid it with all costs.  What the heck is the point of a birth plan.  Futile!   I've never met a soul who followed hers.  Eric argued, he persuaded, he nearly yelled, "you don't want this".  I so did.  He told the midwife no.  He did his best.  And I said he could stay in the room and let me have the shot, or he could LEAVE altogether. Hmm.  Poor dads... talk about surrender.

And so, I was given the drug... it was probably the first and only mind altering 'drug' I've experienced.  And Eric, he was right.  The baby classes, they knew what they were talking about.  Every single thread of control, every ounce of capability and direction, exited as if driven from the room... yet I remained.  Every trick in my book, everything I had been using to endure, left me.  There was nothing to do.  No coping strategies, no breathing techniques.  Nothing.  Cry.  Melt.  Surrender. 

But in this surrender, in this realization and acceptance of all consuming pain, was a moment.  It was just a moment... or maybe it was a lifetime... seared in memory... just that one moment of knowing, knowing that there was something beyond, something outside.  I knew that the pain of it all was illusion, that there was nothing but heat.  I knew that I was supported and loved and that everything would clear to easier times.  I just knew.

And it was gone, as quickly as it came.  But I think we can all pull these moments of clarity from our history.  In some bizarre way, they're the only thing that matters at all!  And so, today I celebrate those two occurrences... the birth of the glories of this individual who has made my life something I could never imagine, and the anniversary of a moment that was everything and nothing at the same time!  Enjoy your day.  Remember your moments.

Why is it simple to feel the weight of the world when the weather is bleak?  When the sun shines and the birds leap with intention, it makes heavy moments all the darker, all the more perilous.  It's certainly something to ponder.

I wonder about the hospital visits, the suicide rates, the abuse centers... do they see their numbers rise or fall?  Which is worse, depression in the gloom or depression in the moments of obvious glimmer?

Even with education in it all, do people notice when their friends have become hopeless?  How much does it take to be "over the edge"?  How well do they hide it?  Do people actually follow the patterns that the text books print... and how would anyone know? 

I don't have answers... only questions.  It certainly isn't worth pondering the history of it, unless it could alter the present of the thing.  And so, where are YOUR friends emotions on this day that glimmers?

Do you have drive in movies where you live?  I guess they're rare.  An oversized screen is centered above a parking lot... and people pay to sit in their cars and watch the "in" movies while listening to the sound on their radios.  It's a novelty for sure.  They generally show two flicks, starting at dark, ending (if it's summer) around 2am!  Yikes.

If you live the life I live, that means 14 girls decide on a whim to pile in vehicles and head out on a week night.  They don't much care what's showing, and they don't really stay in the vehicles. Everyone piles out onto chairs, or better, in some major "pig pile" in the back of our pick up.  I think kid piles at Drive-Ins is the main purpose for owning such vehicles, up there with hauling camping equipment, and towing speed boats.  Anyway, the reason for such angst seems to be novelty, the fact that you can eat and drink whatever you want and whatever you've brought, and that talking during the show is not only accepted but expected (unless you're Chelsea who "will never go to another movie with the likes of us!", hee hee hee).

The first show was Dark Knight, which is the new Batman ordeal... and ya know, it's not my type of movie.  But it really ties in with my blog from yesterday.  Keith Ledger played the Joker, which was a dark and psychotic character.  He died after the filming of this role.  I hear it was a drug combo issue, possibly from depression, possibly suicide.  As I attempted to understand what brings people to say "that was a GREAT movie", I wondered what the conveyance of darkness and horror really does for our souls.   I suppose there was the ferry scene where people actually made a highly conscious choice... does that count for something?  Did the role have anything to do with the human demise?  I soooo hope not.  Did his friends notice his state of mind, his sadness, his despair?  People are good at hiding it; people are good at being inattentive.

So, thinking to last night, being at the drive in, the stars were bright.  The moon and the clouds were particularly stunning against a smoky blue background.   There were rainbow and a light ring around the half moon.  That was probably my favorite part of the first movie, that and screaming in stereo with Maia, making DeeDee's ears ring ('cause we were on either side of her).

Oddly, the G movie followed.  Wall-E was really a story of people awakening to their capabilities and purpose.  Redeeming after the first, balancing.  Not the greatest movie of the century... so I'm back to the focus on the environment, on the people, on the experience.  Summer.  Incomparable!

Do you notice how small the world is?  Do you notice?  I have that Disneyland ride "It's a Small World" in my mind.  I went on that ride as an adult, and I admit to wishing to jump ship... wade on out midway.  The song could drive a person insane!

A friend of mine was there recently.  The ride BROKE DOWN while she was on it.  The lights went dark, the boats stopped, and the MUSIC CONTINUED.  Oh my gosh, I might have drown myself, or come to a surrender so deep that I would have been sure to have understood my true being forever.  It would have been one or the other!

I won't do it again.  Once in a life time is plenty.  I'm thankful it was not me at the defective moment, or the minutes that seemed like hours that she waited as they unloaded by flashlight, and walked people out.  Hmm, I think I could handle a breakdown in the Haunted Mansion.  That could have some dark and unsettling thing to say about my being... hate the small world, good with the ghosts... oh wait, maybe that says something light and settling, hmmm. 

Ok, bottom line, I'm thinking the internet rocks!  I don't like computers much, but I do like the people I meet from all over the world.  I enjoy seeing pictures of Tina's baby from Germany.  I am delighted to email with Saidi and the others I have met along the way, from across the world.  I love the pictures of the Australian forest sculptures Eric brought to me yesterday.  Amazing.

Blast the walls off your box and find out just how vast and how tiny you can be, at the same moment.  It's truly incredible!

Luna is something to watch!  Every step she takes, every breeze she feels, every sound, every flavor... it's all new, all amazing, all about the moment.  If only we could see through her, be her. 

I dropped Luna, our husky/malamute thing, at the vet this morning.  She is having "that operation", something that would have been easier on her body one and a half years ago (she's a new addition to the family).  It leaves me in a conundrum of thoughts.  I take the dog to this pain, no choice, no out.  They had me help put her into a cage.  She HATES to be caged.  (I hate it too, but my bars are more abstract.)  How can I be there for her?  How can I empathize with something so personal, so out of her control?  I've done this to her.  Later today, I will go back.  She will be sick, groggy, in a lot of pain.  She will have to be quiet and still, even though her nature is exuberant and energetic.  How could I do this?  Is this really the best thing for her, for the world?  I just don't know.

Animals have been so intertwined in my life that I cannot remember a moment where I didn't have a handful of various pets present.  I won't start to list of what lives with us now.  Nyasha is equally inclined... and is currently "researching" a tarantula addition.  Do spiders have consciousness?  I guess this one will have to rise to its surroundings.

Although I've spent my share of time pondering why I put myself through the training and the cleaning and the patience required to parent a menagerie, I know that the creatures give something back.  When I was very little, we had a pair of English Bull Dogs.  In the pain and angst of growing up, they were always there to listen to my dilemmas.  They always cared.  They never talked back or gave advice or did anything but comfort me.  Perfect.

Our current dogs and the cat are particularly, and annoyingly, in tune with my every emotion these days.  The pair of retriever/labs do not tolerate a door being closed between us, especially if I'm unsettled.  They see it as their job to absorb that, balance it.  The cat physically insists on connecting with the "heart" of things... and it's not always that comfortable to have a cat on ones chest (especially when trying to breathe - or cry). 

Of one thing I am certain.  They're a gift.  I am so thankful!

I read a book once (don't fall off of your chairs in shock or anything), A Child Called It.  I actually read all three.  I didn't know at first how I would be able to endure the non-fiction tale of a boy who was nearly abused to death by his mother, over and over and over.  Seared into my memory is the bathroom scene, the young child being forced to clean with the lethal combination of bleach and ammonia... coughing up blood, passing out.

I helped a friend once.  Her marriage had become a tangle of anger and pain.  She hid the marks, ashamed of her part in the drama.  But the scars went beyond the skin, into the courtroom for divorce, into her new life.  The loops pull her and bind her, wrap her in their heavy weight, begging her to repeat the pain, if not physically then emotionally.

There are these young people I know.  They hit middle school age, and the stage crescendoed their sexual abuse into the open air.  One, two, three...  They all thought they were alone, probably still do.  But it's so very common.  Who talks about it?  Why don't they talk about it?

Can I comprehend the pain?  I have never experienced any of these things.  My parents tried to spank me once... no doubt I was abnoxious!  They weren't very successful.  Eric held my wrist tight one time, just once, just holding.  I had wanted to leave, escape.  It's probably more rational to talk.  He held me there for one split second.  My fury surprised me.  That tiny move was far over my line of tolerance.  The outrage I felt was pure.  Can I even use those experiences to compare, to grow the empathy I want to have?  Crazy thought, no comparison.

People suffer so.  How is it possible that so much pain pours out over the world, a world created from and molded by Divine Grace.  Do you ever wonder?  It never stops: the wars, the aggression, the pain.  I've heard there is a remedy.  Do you care to take the risk?  Can you step outside your thinking, outside of your ego, outside of your body, if only for a moment?  Dare to try.  Dare to pursue the bliss inside the Silence. 

So if there isn't enough pain in the world without help... we do a lot to contribute.  We are the masters of creating our own issues.  Have you noticed that?  Don't you wish that noticing it ended it?

There's definitely a puzzling way of approaching the world that pretty much leaves ego behind, and just IS.  IS what, living the moments?  Ya, I think that's it.  Not much energy around the details, the stories, the plans or the histories.  When we're there, we know... but it's not for long, at least not for me.  A story line comes up.  Something from a memory influences the present.  Sigh.  Only to notice.  To be in that moment, and then that one, and then that one.

When there isn't enough chaos, isn't enough devastation or destruction, we make our own.  I think we do it when there is already enough, just to watch ourselves writhe in agony.  It's like a long lasting, ever dark horror flick.  Like Jenga.  How many bricks fall?  Let's try to make it worse, and worse, and worse...  until we crash in the horror.  Great plan, humanity (that's sarcasm for you literalists out there).

Drink one more drink.  Eat more and more and more.  Smoke another pack.  Drive with rage beyond reason.  Choose an abusive spouse.  Gamble until you can't afford milk.  Buy things until your debt buries you alive.  Treat the people around you as if they were afflicted.  Try every drug, and then start to dance within the combinations.   Why not?  It's what we do.  Humanity.

There is a child being beaten to death.  There is disease taking a young life.  There is war that rips the innocents.  There is starvation in a world filled with food.  Pain.

And we abuse ourselves.  Nothing better to do?  No where else to focus?  No plight of higher financial value?  I'm going to have to think about this for a long time. 

Why do I do it, why do I choose to be part of the problem rather than part of the cure?  It's a really good question.

"Like shock therapy, only not!" (A quote from my eldest.)

The kids think there's a problem... my last posts scare them.  They prescribe Shrek.  They know it will bring me back to where they prefer me to live.  Interesting. 

There's a dead bunny (that's a baby rabbit for you city folk) in the driveway.  DeeDee said she knew that would pop up soon.  Hmm.  Karolynne and I saw it alive in the grass on Friday, truly alive and hopping.  Pinkerton (the cat) did too.  Presumably, she was the last. 

That's enough.  It is time for Shrek, time for pirate jokes, time to go back.

Is that how you spell "mike" when it's a microphone? That makes no sense at all.

Every Friday, A Gathering Grove gives people a chance to be talented, or pretend to be talented : )  It's so new, so very new... the DJ guy had us doing impromptu poetry.  There's danger in that!  Apocalyptic!  Anyhow, I have no interest in my poetry, and have tendencies that are far more reminiscent of Shel Silverstein than Emerson... but in celebration of the birth of the store, I will share the serious of my two poems on the writing prompt -"Beginning".  Don't fall asleep.

Water drops from forest ferns
Gurgling into rocky streams
Flowing through expansive banks
To the river
Raging on
Ocean of awakened hearts
Waiting on the ones begun
Calling for the gathered jewels
Joining in the vast beyond

I figure I overpunctuate normally... so we'll pull this off with the finesse of EE Cummings.  Happy new beginnings ya'all.

Do you play?  Know the game?  Gaia has these seeds that accumulate in our accounts.  We're supposed to "send them out", appreciate people with them.  They grow in number when people give them to us, or when we do things on Gaia (what?  I don't know.  I just know they keep appearing!).

Have you called me anal yet this week?  Here's your chance to be accurate. It is a part of the personality I play, of my ego.  These @$#%%$ seeds are a plight on my existence!  I can't stand the fact that they grow there... wait for me to find a way to hand them off.

Secondary element of the seed game, you can only give 5 to each person, ever.  At least I haven't run into the opportunity to go beyond that... maybe in "time"?

So it's irritating.  Every friend, every acquaintance through the sub groupings, I've loved 'em all through the planting... then what?  Random people?  Am I spreading my wings or becoming a "stalk"er (seeds, plants, ya)? 

Here we grow again!  We're being encouraged to branch out and vegetate in new fields of society, meet new pea-pole : )  Gardening is a lot of work!

Till your soil, 'cause life is a constant of sowing and reaping... you may as well fertilize while you're hanging out! 

And do NOT send ME more seeds to plant!!!  Hee hee hee.

Addition from first post to now:  Hey, so DeeDee points out that I can also appreciate blogs, YAY!  5 seeds per blog... This is getting easier.  What comes to me by the light of day ('cause I originally wrote this at like 3am) is that I could FOLLOW DIRECTIONS.  First, I am a girl, and we tend to do that.  And second, I would get further in the world if I listened once in a while!  Sigh, arrogance... it goes with the anal in ego... the "a" section : )  I notice that those are quieter these days, but still fun to play with here and there.

 

I am not a NASCAR fan.  I typed that, then I pondered it.  Maybe I am.  I try not to believe concrete statements.  I am, I am not... I'll try again.  I do not watch the races much.  That's just true.

A while back, a friend of mine was dating my brother. It must have been quite a while back, because he's happily married to someone else!  Many incredible, transformational things came from that relationship, two weeks that altered our lifetimes.

One of the least incredible was that I was ASSIGNED a driver.  Apparently, everyone must have a driver... someone they support and believe in, someone they back through thick and thin.  Since I refused to pick, I was given.  And some of you who know me will laugh.  My driver is Tony Stewart.

Tony was a volatile man.  His anger was his trademark.  He drove a deep orange car.  He was everything opposite of what I would have claimed to be.  Did you catch that?  "Claimed."  My friend is pretty insightful.  She knew two things at the time of that assignment.  I would deplore it.  I was it.  Most people would have disagreed, but she was right.  She's usually right.

Tony and I have grown a lot : )  I think he was involved in some sort of anger management situation.  I, hmm, well what did I do?  I grew out of anger, out of resentment, away from martyr-ism.  It wasn't exactly a class.  It was grace!

There are a lot of people who deserve credit:  Christine for the driver assignment (at least), my husband Eric for his patience with who I am, Kwami (my Spiritual Director) for being that, my kids for riding the tide.  But it was the Divine that "created" it.  I did nothing, nothing really.

And to be truly, painfully angry seems like a distant memory.  I am so thankful.  I have oozing gratitude that crashes into the wall of my track and skids along the asphalt.  

When Friday's eclipse wraps up a year of transformation, that is definitely something I will ponder.  Where have you grown?  What are you thankful for?  It's time to gaze in awe at the lights above Daytona.  

I'm just picturing the fall out, hold on a second... let me revel in the visualization.  Oh so sad that it isn't something that can be dynamited, gory details, little bits everywhere like balloon remnants on a barbed wire fence, hee hee hee. 

Hey, no worries, 'cause this is NOT exactly how I feel.  I totally have a relationship with this ego.  We go way, way back.  It's a helpful tool, lots of tricks and skills up the sleeve.  Couldn't have survived without it, not exactly.

The problem arises when it runs the show.  My ego, my mind, they try to take over.  What a team!  There is something far more brilliant within... and it takes a ton of quiet for that brilliance to leak out.  It also takes an openness for "anything" rather than a predisposition to loop.  Ego loves to repeat stuff, to make things mean something based on past experience!

Here's the funny thing, the more I ponder this right now, the more I'm buying into the pattern.  I can move to the next moment, or swirl around into the stories about the ways my ego has held me back, kept me from venturing onto new streets, told me all the ways I wasn't good enough or right or perfect.

Well, I'm kinda into the quiet this second... so ego will have to save it for later.  I want to look at this moment as if nothing came before it, as if nothing comes after it.  Just pure still moment.  Just silence.  Easy to do at 2am, when the kids and dogs are asleep, when the stars are brilliant and the night sky so vast and open.  But isn't it glorious?  Just grab the second when you can get it!