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Lately I’ve been hearing people comment that we aren’t really in control and reciting the Yiddish proverb: “Man plans, God laughs,” that they’re being asked to have faith. Faith in what, I wonder. Don’t we all have faith in something…a lot of things? I realize the term typically refers to having a belief in God or something that cannot be proved, yet don’t we also have faith, without thinking about it, in things such as that the floor will be under our feet when we get out of bed?

Do we look at our unsuccessful attempts to create specific desired results and our illnesses as a sign that we’re not in control, therefore God must be, because we have faith in God? And then tell ourselves we must have faith…that God has a better plan for us? Or, when we succeed, thank God for giving us what we asked for? I know I’m simplifying this, but I wonder if we’d be better off to ask ourselves what we really have faith in and answer the question honestly. Is it a stupendously strong faith that keeps the ground under our feet? That allows us to witness our current perceptions of the physical universe? Is that stronger than our faith in God and his plans for us?

I know I’m stretching out there…

I recently had a conversation with someone and referenced something he’d talked about. He then told me he hadn’t said anything about that, but that it was true, he just hadn’t said it. Wait a minute! Don’t mess with my perception of reality—that I can tell the difference between a thought and a spoken statement. It’s pretty cool to be able to know things beyond the spoken and the physical, but it’s really helpful to know when it’s a “knowing” and when it’s a shared physical experience.

So, what do you have faith in? Your talents and abilities? God? That the sun will come out tomorrow? That the devil tempts us? If you treat others well, they will treat you well? That the other shoe will drop…eventually? That there’s more to our world that what we can see, hear, touch, taste, or smell? That there’s not?

What do I have faith in that I’m not aware of?

       Some things are best kept private.

I’m aware of that.

Yeah.

Love you,

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I took a little tour through Spirit at Work Books and Beyond today and picked up a book on soul healing. I didn’t read much of it, only the idea that if we heal our souls, everything else in our lives will heal. Though I am familiar with soul retrieval and other methods of healing the soul, I’ve always wanted to believe that our souls are already perfect; here to learn and grow, but not broken or wounded or ill…that if we look closely enough we’ll see the perfection.

Maybe that’s too big picture of me.

Is soul healing similar to soul learning—as if learning/healing occurs when Mind articulates and integrates the truths of Heart?

Is it possible that our souls are on a journey filled with an exquisite array of infinite possibilities and that we come close to those that give us opportunity to learn and grow? And that some of us use the label healing?  

Anything’s possible.

That’s not fair.

That’s possible.

Urgh.

Love you.

Ah hell. Who said life was supposed to resemble a perfectly pressed square of finely woven Japanese brocade made only of the finest spun silk? Certainly no intelligent philosopher I’ve read and yet I’ve pressed and ironed and added new threads, the best I had at the time, and kept the tension of the warp threads and the weft threads as even as possible. And I’ve stretched it and squished it and dyed it and boiled it and scrubbed it and, yes, I’ve even tried removing a few rows. You laugh because you know how true it is.

Now the shape of my fabric resembles nothing but me. How sweet is that? A lumpy here, smooth there, colorful, multi-textured, unusual piece of life, ironically just like all the other unique quilts of life, for which I thank God. Isn’t she brilliant?

It’s interesting how all of our beautifully unusual pieces of life come together in the big quilt–overlapping here, blending beautifully there, bunching up in places, sometimes stretching to meet, sometimes barely touching, sometimes shrinking away.

Why do we shrink away? William P. Young, in The Shack, writes: “Pain has a way of keeping us from feeling loved—and if left unresolved too long, can leave us forgetting that we were created to be loved in the first place.”*

More on that later…

Love you.

*This sentence is in the notes I took while reading the book, which I gave to a dear friend, and may not be exactly how Mr. Young wrote it. You can find it on page 97 in the 2007 version.

I suppose we are all looking for something, like the characters in The Wizard of Oz. Maybe not as earnestly…or maybe. Each on our own journey separate yet together. You know, that soul dance, bumping up against each other, taking nourishment and delight or offense, seeking what we need, even when incognizant. Our amazing souls create perfect situations for us to meet our needs, even when it doesn’t seem so.

What am I looking for? It isn’t as obvious as the lion looking for courage, the very thing already within. Or is it? If others, those beautiful souls journeying with me, serve as mirrors, are they simply showing me something I already possess?

Oh.

Damn.

So…an unmet need might be a bit more humbling than something like needing to feel heard or respected. Maybe it’s to see how I  pretend everything’s okay when it isn’t; how I justify to have what I think I want; how I minimize disrespectful behavior of others and defend them to maintain peace or status quo; how I stuff my feelings for the same reason.

Breathe.

Love you.

Veteran’s Day. I’m reminded of family and my dear friend Slim who was always old from my then young eyes.

Slim who drove a cat in the woods well into his 70’s and gave me packaged cookies and coffee after school in a special mug with my name on it…even after he said the cookies were giving me a double chin.

Slim who “chaperoned” me to out of town sports games. God forgive me … and thank you for putting such a special man in my path, even if only for a little while.

Slim who sat quietly while we, the women, drank coffee and worked the daily jumble.

Slim who ate the open faced peanut butter sandwiches I made for him at lunch, smothered with real maple syrup just the way he liked it.

Slim who gave me beer when I was old enough and gave me away when I married my high school sweetheart in a beautiful dress with pearls and lace that my mother made for me.

Slim who sat for hours in the yard pulling weeds out of the grass after they took his drivers license away. Maybe he was remembering his experience of storming Normandy that he shared with me once. Or stories of blowing up bridges as part of his role in an elite special services group that only accepted disposable men–men who had no family; stories he never shared with me; stories I’ll never know.

Slim who unknowingly gave me sorrow when he didn’t know who I was the last time I saw him.

Slim who wasn’t family, but was my grandpa. I salute you, your soul, wherever you may be.

Love you.

If something “rings true” where did the knowing come from? 

From the awesome network of electricity, sound, light, or something else, constantly shimmying and sashaying from one body to another–intentionally and inadvertently–in and out, through and between, striking chords and pushing buttons, depositing ideas and turning on light bulbs?

Where ever knowing comes from, to me it is an elegant dance of souls. Souls simply communicating in accordance with the mystery of existence…

Which reminds me of a wonderful piece by Ray Lynch: What to remember to be happy.

Love you.

In a funk today. Not the wonderful groovy nature of funk music. That would delight my spirit. No. This is the in between here and there funk–a disconnection within and without.

When things pop up in front of me, for me to say yes or no to, and I say yes then later wonder about the rightness of my involvement, I question you because I trust your guidance and I think you will put in front of me those things that will “work” and flow smoothly, easily. And I remember being described as a hummingbird, here to taste all the flowers.

Bittersweetness causes pause.

A pause between here and there to digest the yeses. To reconnect heart and mind in a space impervious to the passion of others; supported to choose to stand authentically in the fire of your soul.

The bittersweet pause is soul’s nudge to remember your own fire.

Love you.

Life. To live it or not to live it? This question swirls in the emergency rooms and depression halls in numbers too high to count.

What influences anyone to reach the point of wanting to give up…to either literally die by suicide or to live without living, like the walking dead?

Oh.

Yeah, I’ve been there. In both places actually. As I think of it an endless stream of theories rush in. As good as they may be, theories serve very well to give me an answer that will soothe my mind for today, like telling a child just enough to answer a question without causing confusion.

But I want to know the truth of it. Is there one? A truth about the spirit dying within? Burning out? Turning the flame down so low that few, if any, can see it?

Perceiving that one is alone kills the spirit. Community gone Individual. One for one. Lost is “all for one and one for all.”

I suppose many things can create that perception…a different experience for each. I could blame the competitive nature of our society, the walled off hearts of the wounded and disappointed, the prideful and the martyrs…and the list goes on. Blame, though, cannot reconnect the lost spirit, the lonely or the scared to humanity.

Only we can do that. Not “I” nor you, nor him nor her, only “we.” Only “we are in this together.” Life is not something one can live alone.

Yeah.
Love you.

Riding the waves of uncertainty

I cannot see past the tip of my nose, yet I follow the scent of ancient mating rituals as if something deep inside me believes something’s missing. With my mind speaking otherwise, I am propelled by this unknowable and familiar urge and I remember all the trails once followed that ended…sometimes in suffocation, sometimes in relief, sometimes in heartbreak…all in perfect completion.

Such is life.

I know. Perhaps I am simply  like a tiger chasing my own tail for the pure bliss of it, unaware of the idea of “something missing,” knowing there is no end, no real destination, no happily ever after…

only uncertainty…

and experience .

Love you.

Battles within…

constant stream of incoming stimulation
merging with the already flowing busy mind
flipping switches and pushing buttons
activating turmoil then peace
then fun and laughter
then fatigue and more wonderment.

Beautiful sky
cold
phone calls from old friends
the day’s headlines
sad news from acquaintances and ex-lovers.

Silence speaking too.

Are these battles within?

Or you fulfilling my request to have it all?

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