…But I will be able to say that as we focus our awareness on this quiet place within us, our lives will slowly and implacably change for the better. We will experience more joy and peace, regardless of our circumstances. I cannot promise us an easy life, one where nothing ever goes wrong. But I can say this. Underlying all of reality, there is a field of peace, from which we can nourish ourselves whenever we so choose. And from that place we will make wiser choices and we will be a blessing to all whom we meet. ~John C. Conley
This is by far my favorite time of day: the early morning hours after Scott leaves for work, when Torie is either sleeping in her room or staying with friends, and I can wander around the house, putter putter, talking to myself or God or–same thing–or looking, looking, looking. When I’m by myself, I look a lot. I look at the floors, the walls, the ceiling, the leaves outside, my cat Horatio, the table, the bookshelves, whatever inner landscape I create…. When I simply look, I come up with all kinds of solutions to stuff.
It’s funny, but I remember in an earlier post saying how much I loved and missed my jammies, and here this week I’ve worn nothing but, because I’ve been sick. For a few days–don’t laugh, those who know me, or I don’t care, go ahead and laugh–I thought maybe I had the cantaloupe disease, but I’m beginning to feel slightly better now and besides, the pharmacist said that there’s a terrible flu bug zinging through town and zapping people. Oh.
Torie and I have been laughing at the idea of cantaloupes, of all the fruit, killing people. You’d think maybe pineapples would… they’re a pretty mean bunch, through and through… but not cantaloupes, so smooth and round and soft and mild. And in case you’re tempted to poke the pitchfork of self-righteous offense at us, we feel sad for the people who are doing the dying and being sick. That’s no fun at all. Be mad at the pineapples.
So this week I’ve watched lots of netflixes, read a bit, moved slothlike through the house, and you may be asking, How is that different from your other weeks, Kelly? And I would say unto thee that it’s different because I’ve been sick while doing it, okay? I painted a painting, however. I like it. I’m not finished with it yet but it’s been a great way to keep my mind focused and off not feeling well.
The overarching (I love that word) best thing about the process of painting is the overarching feeling of love that (overarchingly) fills me up while I’m in the midst of it. I’m not kidding. With every stroke of the brush or pen I think loving thoughts about people, pray for them sometimes, wish them happiness, all my loved ones and otherwise unloved ones and sometimes even strangers who wisp across my mind. It just happens, this happiness–the process creates a disconnect from my sad stories, I think.
There’s not much I can do to change myself, I’ve discovered… I have weaknesses that sometimes plague me, and plague me bad, but the thing I’ve learned is that life is not about trying to change, but about embracing what is. I don’t like something about myself? Then I give me a big hug. Love myself. And in the loving, I feel a tiny little shift into wholeness. Back and forth, I move in and out of wholeness, but the tug of war is always only in my mind, because what I am is whole already. So are you. We just sometimes think we aren’t. Thinking is vastly overrated. Maybe even overarchingly so.
Hey, you know what? YOU are awesome. I’m going to work on my painting now, so if you feel a little prickle of warmth, say, somewhere circa your heart area, that might be me with you on my mind! Or, you might want to do something about that rash. Choose hope. Expect miracles. Cry if you’re sad. Imagine something ridiculous and laugh out loud. Spend lots of time in those green pastures beside quiet waters. Sparkle your eyes at someone with all the love you can muster, preferably a stranger, but anyone, really. Everyone! Remember Oneness. Love. xo
(New post over at Hedonistic Mystic.)