12/30/12

Dear Beloved, Here's what you forgot: the flowers aren't to provide beauty for you. They are a reflection of your own beauty, your own nature. They are not you, but they are not separate from you, and they will die. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, as you have not neglected to care for them, to water them and provide them with an environment  which supports their growth. But eventually, they will fade, and wither, and die. They will be transferred to the back garden and be incorporated with the roses, or the herbs, or maybe the martegon lilies. And it wont be a big deal for them, it will just happen. But you, you who  hold on to wanting things to remain the same, you will experience your feelings around things changing. Part of it may be the financial investment you made when you purchased them. But part of it may be the truth in the transformation of death, and the process of discovering yourself in another form. I wonder what would happen, how you would feel about being sick if you just came back to the present moment. Balance on the tip on the needle for as long as possible. Like the tree pose you teach to others, remember what you say: not rigid, fluid, shifting, and re-balancing. It is really more about re balancing than the initial point of balance. There is movement in each of the present moments and that will not change. Where does that self abuse come from? How quickly can you recognize it for what it is? How can it serve you, what does it point to when you do recognize it? Is it part of a larger pattern? Do you really believe that you are not enough, just as you are, right at the moment? Don't just lower your expectations, give them up entirely and trust that everything is happening exactly as it is meant to occur, at the precisely appropriate time. Be compassionate with yourself. At least as compassionate as you are with the people around you. Just a suggestion. Dare to be wrong, and misunderstood.

neglect

I have been taking a break from writing over the past few months. I over committed and look what falls away. Money and paying bills seem to always come first. And now I am sick, and so getting better comes first so that I can work and pay bills. The year 2012 ends with me sipping ginger and lemon in hot water, wearing my pajamas and hoping the dog won't suffer too much without our usual trips to the dog park. I sit in a blanket tossing the racquetballs across the kitchen, through the dining room and off the far wall of the living room hoping to wear him out before I am overcome with yet another coughing fit. The congestion is still pretty tight and I have run a hot bath with salt and ginger for myself. I have finished the first two seasons of "Sherlock", read everything on face book, and cleaned up the kitchen except for the lemons, the citrus juicer, and the blender. Oh, and the ginger, of course. I will take a cold medication and go to work in less than an hour. Once there I will greet my first appointment with a Ricola berry flavored cough drop in my mouth and she will never even notice that every muscle in my body is aching, especially my shoulders, forearms and hands. I will take her health history, and due date. We will talk about her pregnancy, or her delivery, and I will do my best to make her more comfortable in her body. She will pay me and then drive away. I will do this three times, maybe four and then gather my dirty linens, put away the coconut oil, wipe down all surfaces with an antibacterial solution and come home. Let the dog out, get in a hot ginger bath, and soak until the water is cold, wondering what is happening.

Getting sick slows me down, leaves too much time for self reflection. I become impatient with myself and the people around me. I try to stay on track and don't enjoy the experience. I surround myself with beauty and then neglect to notice the beautiful reminders to let it all go, let it all drop away and relax. I feel bad about myself, a failure who allows herself to get sick and over commit. I harbor unrealistic expectations and then become emotionally abusive rather than self congratulatory that I recognize the pattern and can just let it go, take a deep breath, cough up the congestion and begin again. Each breath: a chance to begin again.