Hide & Seek

I clean and empty the space around me, - the noise, stress, and stuff. 

Every evening, after the sun sinks into pink, I seek simplicity. 

During the day, I practice stillness amidst a household of happenings - of play and argument, screaming and weeping, laughter, and song. While I work too with young children in my classroom, I practice connecting to the stillness within. 

I practice acceptance too. Acceptance of this house and all its holes. [I accept it by cleaning it with brush, water, and soap, scrubbing away stains, dust, and dirt.]  Acceptance of my desire to want more and more material things like new brown boots, jeans, and candles. Acceptance of this human face and all its aging, its folds, tone, and color. Acceptance of these stark-white skunk-like strands of hair. Acceptance of the stretch marks and the occasional sharp chin hair. Acceptance of others and my own reflex to judge them. Acceptance of myself and my own reflex to judge me. Acceptance that everyone (including me) is at one necessary point in the journey. A point in a whole journey of points, points that make lines....................... lines like sunbeams, stretching outward and onward into expansion and evolution. 

At night, I practice inner stillness. I follow a yoga class or a meditation podcast, and I write. I then attempt to carry my stillness (like I would a full cup of tea) into my sleep. When I wake, I hold it still.  

Throughout the day, it spills,  and I must practice acceptance as it soaks and spreads throughout my insides. 

I carry my stillness by moving more slowly, and by doing one thing at a time. I heard that that's one definition a Zen master once gave for Zen, - doing one thing at a time. So I try ...and then I forget and try again. I slow down when I can, and hold my stillness, feeling for presence, stretching for it as I would a lamp switch in the dark. 

Slowly, I am stripping away the layers and unveiling silence, simplicity, serenity, and clarity.   

I realized recently that I have a tendency to hide. It's no wonder hide-and-seek was my favorite childhood game. We are born to be in community. We also need solitude. I notice this piece of me, this desire to hibernate, to seek silence and stillness and darkness, to hide. 

Today, I turn 39 years old. 

My birthday wish is that I will not hide so much anymore, but seek, - seek connections, community, and seek this whole world around me.