Life is Good And So Is Israel

I have neglected writing my blog lately. Life has bee very full lately and for this am glad. I am still serving as a Deans’ Assistant at my seminary; this is such a blessing for me. I cannot convey the joy that serving in this capacity has given me over the last eight months. I am sure that I have received far more than I have been able to give. I am still in my InterSpiritual Counseling course… this I don’t love so much. I am sticking it out for the duration, but I just cannot warm up to the teacher. I’m sure it’s my stuff that is getting in the way and not her. I know that she is trying very hard to create this course from just the ashes of the old course and I give her a lot of credit for her efforts. We just come from different points on the map. So, I agree to disagree and I am letting it go.

My work at hospice is consuming me. If I wanted to work full time, I could, without a problem. It’s just that I am happy with it being three days a week… at least for the moment. I have been offered the job of helping to coordinate the end of the year retreats for both the first and second year students and to coordinate the graduation celebration at Riverside Church. I am so thrilled that Diane and Susan feel that I have the capacity to handle such a huge responsibility, but at the same time I am terrified of all of this responsibility. Scared to death, is a pretty accurate description.

I am absolutely thrilled that I get to be one of the staff at the retreat center for the entire week. That is like a dream come true. To be considered an equal is amazing. I am so blessed and grateful.

At the same time, however, I worry that my job at hospice will suffer. I can’t let my patients down, or Margarita, or Chris or anyone else at my job. I love my work and I want nothing to jeopardize it or the quality of my work. I feel trapped between to the two. So, I am praying that I have the stamina and the energy to perform both functions well.

Life is so good. I feel truly blessed and loved by God these days. Everywhere I look, I see beauty, I see love, I see gentle breezes in my sail. Please, dear God, stay with me.

I just read that if we turn to God, God will respond by filling our lives with love and well-being. This has truly, and deeply, been my experience. I took a few steps towards God and God reached out and jumped leaps and bounds to meet me and take my hand. Who knew it could be so? I’ve heard said before and never quite believed, but this has been my experience. God met me more than half way after I reached out to Him/Her/It.

This past week, I have reconnected with a South African friend from Israel. We have not seen each other since they left Israel in 1989. But, through the power of FaceBook we have found each other again. We were emailing each other back and forth because her daughter is discovering Israel pretty much in the same way that we did all those years ago. I was writing to Sharon, telling her some of the lessons I learned about making Aliyah. I was telling a couple of funny stories that I remember and I just roared. I read them to my husband and he laughed heartily too. It then occurred to me that some of our travels through Israel would make a wonderful story. There were so many strange tales, so many funny stories, so many poignant ones and so many lessons learned about my husband, the human condition, and myself that this is a story that should be told. I was inspired to write it. I believe I am going to do just that. I think it will have to wait until this summer after the graduation celebration is over, my course is done and my obligations as a Deans’ Assistant are no more, but I am going to write it.

I started to write this once before, but I was in a different place before, I was still angry about some of the things that happened and I was grieving some of the things we lost, but that is behind me now. Now, I see the humor, the farcical nature of some the events and people we met. I believe that I could write it now. God be willing, I will try.

Here’s a sample:

We lived in a tiny settlement in the Galilee called Har Halutz. At the time there were about 17 families living there. Today there are 90. We were a pretty close knit bunch and everybody knew everybody’s business. The men of the settlement, called a yishuv, would walk shmirrah or guard duty, taking turns. Of course the men were armed. Well, our friend, Richard, who was very cowardly, was out walking his turn on guard duty, he heard a noise and opened fired… at nothing. The head of security came running out of his house in his pajamas and ran up to Richard, taking stock of the situation, he then ripped the rifle out of Richard’s hand and took all his bullets. Orin, the head of our security, told Richard that he can walk guard duty like everyone else, he just couldn’t have any bullets. Well, Richard was indignant and said to Orin, “What if something happens? How will I defend the yishuv?” Oren said, “If something really does happen, yell at the top of your lungs and some with bullets will come out and help you.”

Every time I think of that story, I laugh aloud. Perhaps, you have to know Richard, perhaps not, but I think it is funny. There are so many stories like that.

Then there was the mitapel (or babysitter) in one of the children’s houses. In this particular house the children’s ages went up to about 13 or so. One Friday afternoon, I was getting the dining room ready for Friday night Shabbat dinner, it is the biggest meal of the week. It was my job at that time to get the dining room ready. I was minding my own business, when I group of boys from this children’s house came in. We had large windows that looked over the Sea of Galilee, it was a beautiful view, but the windows were fogged up because it was that time of year. The boys came in and began writing the “F” bomb all over the windows. All Israeli boys learn that one English word at an early age. So, they were writing all over the windows, I was angry, because I was going to have to clean the windows before dinner. So, I called their mitapel and told him what was going on. He came right over and told the boys to wipe the windows down. All but one complied. The wayward son said, “I don’t have to clean anything. Ask my mother.” It just happened that this one child’s parents were Americans. They were the type that felt this is Israel speak Hebrew. I agree, but only to a point. They were a little fanatical about speaking only Hebrew.

So, this child refused to clean the windows. A scene ensued between the boy and his mitapel. Someone must have called the boy’s parents, I never knew who called them. Just as the mitapel took the boy by his head and began cleaning the windows with his face, his mother walked in. I was laughing because it was such a scene, the kid was a major brat and that his mitapel cleaning the window with the boy’s face was priceless. When his mother walked in a saw this, remember, she believes in only speaking Hebrew to Israelis, she began to scream in English! “What the fuck are you doing?” “Are you out of your fucking mind?” You get the idea. The mitapel knew no English (except the word “fuck” because he too learned it at an early age.) I had to leave the scene because I was laughing so hard and I didn’t want to offend anyone or make it worse. But, I can tell you, I laughed for days after that and I never saw that kid again without a huge grin on my face.

This book is going to write itself.

The Soaring Eagle

I have been having difficulty sleeping since we got the cat and since I have had this cold which keeps my hacking all night. I am exhausted. I have been working hard with my patients, teaching meditation, all the reading for my classes, my father and it has been wearing me down. Sleep has been a refuge for me, but now it has eluded me and I am pooped… stressed… and dragging through my days.

Last night, I decided to take Tylenol PM. That was a hard decision for me. I don’t like Tylenol in the first place, it frightens me. Secondly, I didn’t want to disturb my dream life. I worry that if I am in a drugged state, I will not receive any messages or that it will interrupt my spiritual connection. But, I was desperate for a night without interruption, so I took the Tylenol PM and I slept.

I also had a dream that I think may have deep significance. Here it is:

Jon and I went to the movies to see a film called “The Soaring Eagle” or something to that effect. We found our seats in the crowded auditorium. The theatre was packed and we got one of the last available seats, they were high up, but not bad. We were getting comfortable and the movie was starting. I saw and eagle leap off his perch on the top of the cliff and start to soar. Then something happened and I told Jon that I needed to see the manager of the theatre about something, it was a complaint of some sort and I left Jon watching the movie.

I walked through the theatre to find the manager; I asked several people where I could find them. Everyone had a differing idea. Finally, I found him on my own behind the popcorn counter. He was a very strange, funny little man with enormous glasses. He almost looked like a cartoon. I told him my complaint and he seemed to brush it off and gave me some condescending lip service. I just shrugged my shoulders and realized that I needed to handle it myself.

So, I just wandered around the theatre, I don’t know why I just didn’t go back and watch the movie with my husband. Instead, I wandered outside knowing that I wouldn’t be able to go back in. The sky was blue and beautiful with puffy clouds and brilliant sunshine. It felt good on my skin. I walked. I came to the edge of a cliff. The vista was beautiful. Suddenly, I saw an eagle on the edge of the cliff- he took off and he soared! I watched him fly. I was him. The wind was in my face. I was the eagle and yet I wasn’t fully the eagle either. I felt so alive!

Then I knew the movie must be over, I didn’t want to leave the cliff, but I knew Jon would be worried and I went back to the theatre. I met Jon in the lobby and he asked me where I had been. He told me he loved the movie. I told him where I had been and what had happened, but I didn’t tell him how much better reality is than the movie. I allowed him to have his illusion. I allowed all of the people in the auditorium to have their illusion because it was theirs to discover for themselves.

As Jon and I were walking away, we stopped and bought popcorn from the funny little manager. He smiled at me and I smiled back.

When I woke up, I laughed. I’m not sure I understand the depth of the dream. That will have to come with time I think. However, I feel that I may be poised to fly. I will shed my illusions soon and I will take that leap off of the cliff and soar. But, I think this dream is telling me that I am not quite ready. Or perhaps it is telling me that my illusions are holding me back. I don’t really know… yet. That will come, I’m certain of it. As I move through my day, the dream will marinate in my psyche and more meaning will be revealed, but for now, this was the dream and my initial response to it.

I love dreams like this. I feel so connected and more fully alive than when I am awake and that’s the point isn’t it? We are more fully alive when we shed these bodies. The real life is when we are asleep; the truth is available to us when we are not confined in our flesh.

As a very small child, I was about four or five I think, I was playing in my backyard with some kids- they might have been my cousins, I don’t’ know for sure. Suddenly, I had the sensation of looking out through my eyes. I felt trapped in my body. It was weird. I was in my body and yet separate; I was the ghost in the machine. It was as if I were looking through a keyhole at the world inside. This feeling stayed with me for several days. Even today, if I think about it, I can reproduce the feeling of looking out through my eyes, somehow separate from it.

Is this the truth of who I am? Am I really an eagle on the cliff, poised to fly and then soar? Is that the true reality and not the movie? I am beginning to think so.

Who Is This Christ Jesus?

Why do the really big questions only arise in the middle of the night? I woke up at 4:00 this morning and began to ponder exactly who was Jesus Christ and where did his message go wrong? Is the message wrong or did the messengers screw it ip?

My conclusion? Well, I don’t think his message was flawed. I think those that knew him didn’t have sufficient consciousness to interpret his message correctly and the true meaning of what he was saying was lost and convoluted into something completely different. This distortion has created more suffering than any of us can really fathom.

Let’s start with his name- his name wasn’t Jesus Christ. Christ is tacked on at the end like it is his last name. His name was Jesus and if you want to get it correctly, his name was probably Yeshua or something similar. Since folks didn’t have family names back then his name might have been, Yeshua Ben Yosef (Yeshua son of Yosef), however people could have known him just as Jesus of Nazareth.

He is Jesus The Christ. The term Christ means savior, or messiah. Here’s what Wikipedia has to say about the term Christ:

“Christ is the English term for the Greek Χριστός (Khristós) meaning "the anointed one".[1] It is a translation of the Hebrew מָשִׁיחַ (Māšîaḥ), usually transliterated into English as Messiah.

The word is often misunderstood to be the surname of Jesus due to the numerous mentions of Jesus Christ in the Christian Bible. The word is in fact used as a title, hence its common reciprocal use Christ Jesus, meaning The Anointed One, Jesus. Followers of Jesus became known as Christians because they believed that Jesus was the Christ, or Messiah, prophesied about in the Tanakh (which Christians term the Old Testament). The majority of Jews reject this claim and are still waiting for Christ to come (see Jewish Messiah). Most Christians now wait for the Second Coming of Christ when they believe he will fulfill the rest of the Messianic prophecy.”

I have been reading the Acts of the Apostles, and in my mind, Paul has done all of humanity a grave disservice with his teachings. In Galatians, he berates the people of Galatia for falling back and living once more within The Laws of Judaism, calling them idiots at one point. They had begun to practice circumcision again and they were not eating with the Gentiles. Paul wanted them to give up their laws and embrace the spirit of Christ. According to Paul the way you do that is to throw out all of the previous laws and live only from the spirit from within.

Except he then laid down all of these new laws that would lead a person to get to that spirit within and the Catholic church was born. These new laws became over time more dogmatic and complicated than the original Jewish laws handed down from Abraham and Moses. Then the most damaging of all was the insertion of a mediator between a human being and God. No longer were we able to commune directly with our creator, but we needed to have someone speak for us. No longer were we directly connected to the God within, but God was removed completely from us and placed in this hard to attain and far away place called Heaven. God was up there looking down on us and judging us favorably or unfavorably.

Jesus spoke of the Kingdom of Heaven within us. Jesus told of God’s love for us. He told us not to worry about where our next meal was coming from, or what clothes we wear. God wants us to love each other; not to strive against our neighbors, but to live in peace. Paul pitted the Gentiles against the Jews. He berated people because they clung to their customs.
Jesus didn’t die to save us, or to become our personal savior. He didn’t die for our sins, he died because of our sin. If we had listened to his message he wouldn’t have been crucified; he would have died an old man. But, each side was pitted against the other. Each side believed that their side was the righteous side. Jesus taught tolerance, love, peace, surrender, and to honor God.
Paul had a mystical experience and then inserted his ego directly into it. Instead of gently leading the people toward the message of Jesus the Christ, he ranted and raved against them. He single-handedly set up adversarial polar opposites.

Jesus was a fully enlightened being. He really did sit at the proverbial right hand of God because he understood it all. God flows through all of us, every minute of every day. We miss this presence because we are so caught up in our striving and our personas that we miss this spark within us. Each of us can be as Jesus was. We need to let go of this insistence of dogma, ritual and spiritual practice. Live our lives. Be in the moment, feel the delight of God moving through.

The Kingdom of God is at hand. It is in your hand right now, but don’t reach for it. There is nothing to reach for. It is all present, right here and right now. Sink into God, be still and know. That’s all Jesus was teaching, it is all just within your grasp.

All Things Must Pass

Looking at the snow this morning, I am reminded how all things come and go. We struggle with the snow today, but eventually it will only be a memory. Just as the gentle breezes and green leaves of last summer are now tucked snuggly away in our memories. This too shall pass.

When we lived in Cudjoe Key, we had a small, but very powerful hurricane move through. It only really affected our key and two others, but it wiped us out. I really can’t describe what it looked like, there was a forty foot sail boat on top of one of my neighbor’s house. There was seaweed everywhere. Our next-door neighbor’s roof was on our house and in our yard. A huge dock box was in the middle of our yard. Destroyed homes. Downed palm trees. Nothing looked right even if it wasn’t destroyed. And no words can describe the smell.

As a result of this storm, we had no electricity for seven weeks. For the first two weeks we had no water and no toilets. We were lugging water and after two days we had port-a-potties. The Salvation Army provided ice, sandwiches and some good cheer; they were great and they stayed with us throughout- unlike the Red Cross that left the same day the TV cameras did. It was hot, humid; the mosquitoes were on a feeding rampage. We lived outside, peed outside, washed clothes outside, and got re-acquainted with each other. We bought a large boat cooler and that was our refrigeration. We cooked on our gas grill and ate outside in what was left of the garden, listening to the ocean lapping against the seawall. We had torches for light and they helped keep the mosquitoes at bay along with a few citronella candles. The Milky Way was our companion. It was breathtakingly beautiful. I was amazed at how much light starlight can give.

Our jobs were not affected; Key West did not suffer any lasting damage. The power was out just long enough for the shrimp and ribs in the freezers at Margaritaville to begin to thaw and the owner decided to throw it all out. I found it impossible to just throw out two hundred pounds of shrimp, so I made the executive decision to split it up amongst all of my cooks. We each took home about twenty pounds of shrimp. If my boss had found out it would have cost me my job, but it was criminal to waste food like this. We also split up about a hundred pounds of baby back ribs. (We were eating meat still at this time.)

I cooked up all the shrimp when we got home. I gave away more than half of it to the neighbors that were still there with us- there were only a few of us remaining. We ate the remainder for the next few days. What a feast! The ribs were not thawed out and lasted a few more days on the ice, before we had to cook them.

Here we are in the middle of destruction, sitting in our garden enjoying a veritable feast of shrimp and ribs by candle light sipping cold wine. It was an odd contrast.

We had light from the torches in our immediate area; lighting our table, but much beyond the perimeter of the table was total darkness, made darker from the light of our torches. On one of the first nights after the storm, we were at our table, eating and a car pulled up to our yard. I couldn’t see the car and was unusual because the streets were not really cleared yet, it was still difficult to drive in our neighborhood. And yet, here comes a car and stops! The owner gets out of the car, comes to just beyond our lighted perimeter, and asks if we would like some homemade blueberry wine. Of course, we said yes and he handed us a small jug. We asked him to join us and have some shrimp, he said, “No, no thank you. I should be getting back,” and with that he was gone. Who was that man? We never knew… but the wine was delicious.

And that was the way of this adventure. There was some awful hardships, sleeping indoors at night was difficult, it was so hot. We would stay up playing cards until very late to avoid going to bed. People lost their homes. It was ugly for a year after this storm, perhaps longer. But, today, I don’t think of the difficulties, the ugliness or the smells. What I remember is that jug of homemade blueberry wine, playing cards with my husband, the torches, getting up in the middle of the night, and going outside with my dog and peeing together. I remember the look of happiness on my neighbors’ faces when I gave them a ton of cooked shrimp for their dinner. And when the lights finally did come back on, I felt a deep sense of loss. We never ate in the garden again and it wouldn’t have been the same anyway. It was the total darkness that created the sense of being wrapped in a cocoon, the light form the neighbors’ would have altered the experience. Sometimes it is best to remember it as it was and not try to recreate that which can’t be recreated. Which is why we never go back to a restaurant where we had a fabulous meal, it is never as good the second time.

All things pass. Everything changes and nothing ever stays the same. It is the grasping after our pleasures and pain that cause suffering. It is better to experience it, acknowledge it and bless it for its arrival and then to just let it go.

So, this morning as I looked out on all this snow and the hardships that it brought, what I will remember is snuggling in bed until late, the hot chocolate after being out in the cold shoveling, the Irish oatmeal and homemade biscuits for breakfast. And that is how it should be.

"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." -Albert Camus

Thank you, Isabella

I seem to be in a non-writing mode for the last couple of weeks. Life has been busy. Several things have happened in the last weeks; mainly, I am fully involved in my job. School is an encompassing presence. Jon and I have been just being together. It seems that our jobs have become a large force in both our lives, occupying so much of our time that when we do have time together, we just like to be together. And, of course, there is the force that is Isabella.

I love being with her and Adrienne. We are “The Girls.” At least once a week, the three of us have a day together. Mostly, we end up going shopping or something like that. But, mostly it is just being with Iz that is the main attraction.

Watching her, I am beginning to see what life is all about. It is all about having fun, exploring, experiencing new things, conquering fears, loving, eating and laughing. Most of us have lost this ability. We become mired in our problems, lost in our thoughts; struggling to maintain an image of ourselves that is nothing but a dream.

As a child, I was criticized for just about everything I did. It was painful. I remember the feeling of reaching out to try something new or being in the middle of something exciting and the WORD would come from on high… “What’s the matter with you?” Or something like that. I would physically recoil. So, I began to actively avoid being criticized. The result being always trying (and never succeeding) to be perfect. Mostly, I wouldn’t attempt things that might draw attention to me. I withdrew into myself. This, of course, engendered a special sort of criticism.

My main motivation became avoiding criticism at all cost. I lived my life according to my family’s view of life and not mine.

There is the set up for a life unfulfilled.

Watching my granddaughter, I see what life is meant to be… fun. Live in the present moment. Forget about what your family or neighbors think of you. They are going to think of you exactly how they thought of you years ago. Every person in my family thinks I’m flighty, inept and a little dumb. Strictly average compared to their specialness. No matter what I do, who or what I became, that’s how they think of me.

The sad part is that for years, I lived down to their expectations. I set myself up for that life unfulfilled.

Thankfully, the spirit within exerted itself and is leading me to my true self. That Being that explores, enjoys and is. My granddaughter is teaching me that. We run through Macy’s touching mannequins, looking in mirrors, hiding in the racks, watching the escalators crisscross each other carrying people up and down totally fascinated. We go out to lunch and look for tomatoes because tomatoes are the best food in the entire world. Oh, look there is a rock. We love rocks. We can even sit on this one. Wait, here is another one.

This is what life is all about, experiencing the joy and the love of it all. Now.

Thank you, Isabella. I love you.

Song For Emily

I have been seeing Emily for about eight weeks, maybe a little longer than that. She is an eighty-eight year old woman with end stage COPD. The first time I met her she was in the kitchen eating breakfast, oxygen tube in her nose and a long hose leading to a tank in another room. I couldn’t see it from where I was.

I came with one of the nurses to drop off some medicine for her. Her husband Fred opened the door to let us in. Fred has Alzheimer’s. He still functions, but he has periods of mental confusion and he needs to be watched closely because he has a tendency to wander off. This day he was smiling brightly.

Emily is a very frail woman now. She is thin and has difficulty breathing. She is very sweet, but I think she is very strong-willed too. After all, she started a successful business and ran it for years. She and Fred lived in Germany after the war for four year, Fred was in the service, and he had an important job. They came back to the States, had the American dream. She raised four children; buried one of them four years ago. Faced Fred’s illness and now her own.

This is where I enter.

I came into Emily’s life right at the very end. It’s my job. I never know my patients when they were young and hearty. I see them when they are old and frail. Most are unable to do simple things for themselves. Many cannot feed themselves or it’s a true victory when they do. One of my patients wants to hold her food and is very frustrated over the pureed foods that she is fed. So much so, she went on a hunger strike until they started giving her the foods she craved, because she refuses to eat otherwise. She craves shrimp!

Emily isn’t like that. She is still semi-independent. She walked up until a few days ago. She eats at the kitchen table; takes herself to the bathroom. When I visit, she is in the den, the phone by her side; it never stops ringing, people calling to see how she is or asking a question that only she can answer. She is very thin and yes, she is frail, but she is also very much alive. If it weren’t for the oxygen hose in her nose, you probably would think this is just an old lady in her house on the phone. But, Emily is dying.

She was given the diagnosis last February, she was told she has six months left to live. She came home to die. The first time I went for a visit on my own, I told her she was given a gift, she has out lived her diagnosis by four months, so God gave her a little gift. She liked that. As we talked… or rather she talked, I was listened to her story; I looked in her eyes and in that moment I thought, “I am in love with this woman.” Sounds silly, doesn’t it? She a dying old woman, I’m on the far side of middle aged straight woman and I think to myself that I am so taken with her that I am in love with her. But, it’s true, she touched me so deeply there is no other way to describe it. I’m in love with her.

So, every week, I came and spoke with her. Sometimes our conversations were about life, sometimes about Fred and what will happen to him after she’s gone, sometimes about mundane things. And sometimes about death. Emily drove the conversation; I just went along for the ride. Each time I left, I thought about how she touches me. Emily is a little forgetful; she repeats stories, sometimes just a few moments later. I suppose that it is a lack of oxygen from her disease, I don’t know for sure. I never point it out to her; I just let her tell the story all over again, just like it’s brand new.

Time went by, and each week there was a noticeable decline. Emily looked frailer (if that’s possible!) and her breathing more labored. She was thinner and eating less and less. I was sad because I knew the end was coming soon… and so did she.

The other day, I went to see Emily, I went because I knew from her nurse that the end was very near and I wanted to see Emily one last time. When I arrived her family was all there, I knew she was bad, but I was shocked to see how bad she really was. She looked so frail and delicate; her skin was translucent. She was in bed, hunched over on her side propped up with pillows.

She spoke, but so softly and barely audible. When see saw me, she reached out her hand and indicated she wanted me to sit on the bed with her. Which of course, I did. I held her hand for a long time. She told me she loved Fred, her children, And she told me she loved me. She said to me that all she sees is love. Love is everywhere.

Her daughter drew me aside and asked if I would say the last rites for her mother. I was shocked… me? Say the last rites? Oh, my God, the last rites! Oh, wait, I’m a minister, right? I said yes and asked for a few minutes. I went off to the side and quietly prayed for God to use me as a channel for his love and peace. I breathed into the moment. Whipped out my trusty ol’ Bible to the 23rd Psalm, some lavender oil and said okay. The family, the nurse, the aid all gathered round and I opened my mouth and out came words. I think there were good words. I’m not sure exactly what I said, but I did it. I cried, the family cried, but Emily smiled. I did good.

I sat with her some more. She was very peaceful after our little service. She seemed very much at ease and pain free, her breathing was even a little better too. When I left, Emily took my hand and thanked me. I said, “No, Emily, thank you. You were an amazing woman and it was a gift to me that we met.” Emily held my hand and I wished her Godspeed. I asked if I could kiss her and she agreed. I kissed her and wiping it off, I told her I got lipstick on her cheek and she smiled and said, “I love you.”

Happy New Year.

The Tao of Snowstorms

It’s snowing outside… it’s snowing and it’s snowing. I tried to go to New York today, but it was just not to be. We drove about five miles and realized that this was a fool hearty effort, so we turned back and stopped at the grocery store for a few essentials and made our way home.

I am sorry that I am missing my class today. It promised to be wonderful and deeply moving. I will be able to listen to it on podcast in a couple of days, but it isn’t the same as being there.

However, it was wise to turn back and return home. I probably would have made it to New York, but I was worried about Jon making it home safely and then thinking ahead to this evening… what a nightmare that potentially could be, it just wasn’t worth it.

Man plans and God laughs….

In the old days, I probably would have been bitterly disappointed that my trip was cancelled. I would have wailed, blamed, and struggled to go even though reason said otherwise. Now, I recognize that it really is true- Man plans and God laughs. I don’t know the reason and I probably never will, but I was not meant to be on the train to New York.

Letting go. Surrender. At times in our lives we are required to let go even though with all our hearts and souls we want to hang on for all we a re worth. But, if we can just manage to let go, and surrender, our lives seem to flow effortlessly and smoothly. We can experience the flow and joy of life without the struggles of grasping and chasing after things.

I experienced that today, I let go of my willfulness to make it to New York and to be in that class. Instead, I am home, sipping hot cocoa, watching the snow fall, enjoying the beauty of this wondrous manifestation of Mother Nature, without the hassles of trudging through the streets of New York sloshing in puddles and slipping on icy patches.

Life is beautiful. Life is full. Life is glorious. Even in the disappointments, even in the struggles, life is rich. All we need do to enjoy it to the fullest is to relax and let go, live in the Tao and follow the flow.

Verse 22

If you want to become whole, let yourself be partial.
If you want to become straight, let yourself be crooked.
If you want to become full, let yourself be empty.
If you want to be reborn, let yourself die.
If you want to be given everything, give everything up.
The Master, by residing in the Tao, sets and example for all beings.
Because he doesn’t display himself, people can see his light.
Because he has nothing to prove, people can trust his words.
Because he doesn’t know who he is, people recognize themselves in him.
Because he has no goal in mind, everything he does succeeds.

When the ancient Masters said, “If you want to be given everything,
Give up everything,”
They weren’t using empty phrases.
Only in being lived by the Tao can you truly be yourself.


Let it snow!