One

I am the soul 

   divine and eternal

I borrow the body 

   a temporary temple
I am one story 

   within the story of stories
I am one 

   one of the One.

Bliss is the Finish Line

I have run and swam and stitched along the lines of masters, seeking to be saved. I have looked through the glass of so many glowing windows. 

I am currently listening to the book The Surrender Experiment by Michael Alan Singer. On my bedside table is Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda. I have recently finished Be Here Now by Ram Dass. I place this here not as a boastful pat on the back, but as a small gift for anyone looking for one. Small gifts of mention are how I found these books (and many others) along my spiritual journey.

Bliss is the finish line, the ribbon to rip so that I may rest. Oil for the flame for the wick within. Soggy thoughts smother the flame. But I am here on the blessed Earth, learning. I am here to shine. I am here to burn and to be born and re-born and re-born, again, and again. I am here to sing and sob. I am here to save and be saved. I am here to be whole and holy. I am here to be being - blessed too and bright and light. I am here to remember my power and my surrender. I am here to accept the mystery and devote it all to the Divine. 

I write to unravel the twine within, the tight wrap around my heart - so that it is free to feel, and free to reach empty, authentic purity. 

The Summer of Re-Wilding

A weed is a plant that roots and blooms in the cultivated gardens and grasses of humans. Weeds are wild, germinating in the dirt, greeting and greening the earth. Weeds are spread by bugs and birds and wind. We humans don't like weeds because they remind us of our wildness, of our wilderness within. Weeds remind us of the wilderness of the universe. And so we seek to prune and pull and plant what pleases us. This summer, I have allowed the weeds to grow near me. Just to see. I've pulled away dry old dandelion greens and cleared the tallest stems from our walking path. But the rest is spreading, stretching, seeking sun, and singing. Did you know that clovers have small flowers? They look like yellow bells. 

This summer, I have roamed and run through the woods. I have found feathers and ferns and wildflowers. I have liberated the trees, which means that I have removed fallen dead wood from their branches. I have taken trash - beer cans, plastic bags, and old glass. I have found and photographed mushrooms. I have stepped into streams and sought sunbeams. I have loved the moss, and I have kissed trees. I have tripped over rocks and roots. I have slowed down and I have soared.  I have spoken to the squirrels. I have seen bears and deer, and one skunk. 

I saw a small turtle tumble down a waterfall. As she rolled by, splashing over moss and stone, I wondered if this was an intentional leap, a search for wisdom, adventure, supper, or a nest. I wondered if it was an accident, a sudden, scary slip. Then I wondered if it was everything all at once --- seeking, tumbling, and discovering! 

Oh, the wild. The wild! 

May you, gracious, gorgeous Mother Earth, be free to be wild. 

And may you then re-wild each one of us.  

My Most Recent Lesson

There is no right. There is no wrong. Every decision is a web of steps, strings, and spectrums. There is no right decision. There is no wrong one. There are choices, often multiple, but there is no wrong way. For every way has the potential (particularly if we are looking) to lead us toward our evolution. 

This here is my most recent lesson. 

I have a pattern (possibly ingrained from years of traditional schooling) that if I make the correct choice, I will avoid suffering and, perhaps even, elevate to a beautiful and profound awakening.

Ohhh, I realize now. This is slippery! This is simply a striving for perfection. That isn't elevation. 

Life isn't an algebra test. Life is composed of messy essays, improvised scripts, and poetry. It is solitude, reflection, and meditation. It is group work: collaboration, cooperation, and coordinated presentations. It is subjective and impressionistic. It is spectrums of light, shadow, and color. 

The times I experience the most struggle, the most convoluted conflict (both inner and outer) are when I seek, claim, or defend the "right answer", rather than realizing and accepting the complexity of life, the unknowable, incalculable, uncertainty of all things. Life (and every one and every thing in it) is not stuck, stagnant, or rigid. All is flowing. All are growing. All is nuanced and ever-evolving. And whenever I attempt to collect, contain, and label any of it into tidy little boxes, I end up spending a lot of time justifying my boxes to myself and others. And when I do this, I am not available, or open to surprises, learning, and expanding. I have been trying so damn hard to answer all the questions that arrive in life correctly. Oh, how adorably naive of me!  I've done this with lots of things, and eventually, what happens is that a desire, need, or realization flattens the side of a box, spilling the contents of my (sometimes) extreme choice all over the floor of my life. 

Now I see that making a decision is not about getting it right, but about getting it true. It is about getting quiet and listening. It is about meeting me in the moment and (again and again) asking, What feels right to me right now? And then living with it.  

The Slow Sprint from Suffering

I see now my progress, my slow sprint from suffering. 

Be patient. My heart tells me. We all have wisdom to remember. 

So I wait in silence. And I run through woods with a strong, long, loping dog. 

Time whispers to us what we're ready to hear, ready to heed. This cannot happen in a hurry. It says. There are too many of you. It must be like a ripple, a sprinkly rain, a stream. It is like water, seeping into everything. 

I am writing now about our spiritual evolution. 

I am writing now to nudge us all into the slow sprint from suffering. 

I am writing now of the love-led revolution, which starts with the remembering of inner wisdom.