Peace

Days pass with little difference one to the other. Some days include work in the garden, trimming kiwis, or simply sitting on the porch. Some include reading, watching a little television, or writing what comes to be written.
Is it Monday or Friday? Some days I don’t know. What’s in a label anyway? Does knowing what day it is grant me a special prize, a societal gold ring? Does it say I am competent, that I have more value than when I don’t know or don’t even care?

I, like you, was trained to value the wrong things — fleeting ticks of time, full schedules and maintaining the pace, accomplishing something worthwhile (whatever it is that appears to have worth), looking the part: put together, showered, dressed, hair combed.

My hair routine these days often includes a pair of scissors and a — ‘that looks about right’ thought before the blades snap closed, leaving a strand of hair in my hand. Not exactly the routine I used to have. One day my hair got so bushy that I couldn’t resist. Since then, I find it fun, fascinating to see if it will look better or merely quirky, novel.

Was my training before better — no, it was just different. The perfect cut doesn’t seem to matter anymore. I tend towards utility rather than artistry. In many ways it is freeing. No longer attached to the ways it should be, it simply is the way it is.

It is the same with the gardens. I spend time admiring the fruit in its many stages, talking with the baby cherries, the barely there pears, apples and pluots. While I am in the orchard I bend down and pluck the weeds competing for space, not as a plan or intention, but because I am there in the moment and that is what arises to do.

Letting the day determine my actions rather than attempting to dictate how it should all go is quite delightful. There is an ease permeating everything — the garden, the orchard, my health, all the activities that fall out of the space of appreciation.

What a time this is! I feel blessed to be present to each moment, to revel in the beauty, to bow in deepening layers of understanding to human life, its twists and turns, its contrasts and conflicts, to observe how people get caught in their stories and to readily honor the caught-ness, knowing it is part of the unfolding grace as well.

Each day presents an opportunity for deeper peace. Every moment holds within it the possibility of absolute awakening, of clear seeing. Let us open into the underlying stillness where the stories empty into the sacred void, and find therein the peace that passeth understanding.

“You are Source voyaging the universe in a starship body. Your cruiser is designed to traverse the illusion of distance and solitary confinement, to pierce the orbit of perception, opening the heart and mind to the precious now. Each experience fuels the warp drive and course corrects your unique, divinely calculated joy-ney.” Card #61, The Joy-ney, The Wild Child

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