I'm imagining an ET dropping by to check out what's going on here on earth. What humans are all about. It notices that humans are amazingly playful. Is astounded by the hundreds of forms of play humans have created. Notices that there are these things humans refer to as games, with most of them having an element that seems to fire humans up; competition. They conclude that two components of human structure are playfulness and competitiveness. I'd have to agree with that ET. Playfulness and competitiveness must be in our DNA.
I'm all for embracing what comes from enjoying these elements of our human-ness. And I see where it can get in our way. Especially in something that is not so obvious to folks in a search for their reason for being here on earth: we can compete with ourselves, keeping our focus on being a winner or a loser in our own life game. And so this is an invitation to check in on that inner score card that, face it, we all have. Because what really matters is not whether or not we have an identifiable calling. What matters is whether we are letting our souls participate in the every day choices and actions that will, often without our notice, keep us on course. Then, in the being and the doing, we may at some point recognize what our soul has been up to all along.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Friday, February 20, 2015
Trixie
First of all, I am not afraid of bugs. I just like them to keep to their business. No fear. Respect. For all creatures, great and small.
Until, looking up from my morning coffee, I see a very large winged being sitting on the wall across the table from me, and I recognize that winged being to be a wasp.
All that no fear, respect for all creatures great and small, goes straight out the window. It could fly at me. I could swing at it. It could become defensive and swoop in, land on my arm, sting me with its nasty stinger! I could swat it. It could sting again and again before it dies!
I become aware that, given that it has yet to become airborne and done little more than crawl along the picture rail a foot from the ceiling, I might want to come up with a plan B in dealing with The Wasp Invasion.
I will name it. I will call it Trixie. Immediately I notice that I am now interested in seeing what is going on with Trixie. Is she lost? She's been crawling for a while. I wonder if she is having trouble finding the door. I open it wide for her. She doesn't seem to notice it. I wave the newspaper to encourage her to fly in the direction of the door. No deal. She is going to need more help. I extend the edge of the newspaper close to her. Trixie doesn't seem to consider a ride on a newspaper the avenue to her escape from the kitchen. I push her with the edge of it, hoping to get her flying in the right direction. Trixie falls to the floor. She can't fly! I gently scoop her up onto the newspaper and set her outside. I wish Trixie well and close the door. Trixie on the outside and me and my coffee inside.
I share this little saga because it has me wondering if giving the thing that has become an issue in our lives a name that makes it seem less threatening is a way to make it approachable. Might allow for a shift in perspective, for new information to come in, new solutions.
I won't mind if you borrow the name of my wasp. I'm pretty sure Trixie will be okay with it too.
Until, looking up from my morning coffee, I see a very large winged being sitting on the wall across the table from me, and I recognize that winged being to be a wasp.
All that no fear, respect for all creatures great and small, goes straight out the window. It could fly at me. I could swing at it. It could become defensive and swoop in, land on my arm, sting me with its nasty stinger! I could swat it. It could sting again and again before it dies!
I become aware that, given that it has yet to become airborne and done little more than crawl along the picture rail a foot from the ceiling, I might want to come up with a plan B in dealing with The Wasp Invasion.
I will name it. I will call it Trixie. Immediately I notice that I am now interested in seeing what is going on with Trixie. Is she lost? She's been crawling for a while. I wonder if she is having trouble finding the door. I open it wide for her. She doesn't seem to notice it. I wave the newspaper to encourage her to fly in the direction of the door. No deal. She is going to need more help. I extend the edge of the newspaper close to her. Trixie doesn't seem to consider a ride on a newspaper the avenue to her escape from the kitchen. I push her with the edge of it, hoping to get her flying in the right direction. Trixie falls to the floor. She can't fly! I gently scoop her up onto the newspaper and set her outside. I wish Trixie well and close the door. Trixie on the outside and me and my coffee inside.
I share this little saga because it has me wondering if giving the thing that has become an issue in our lives a name that makes it seem less threatening is a way to make it approachable. Might allow for a shift in perspective, for new information to come in, new solutions.
I won't mind if you borrow the name of my wasp. I'm pretty sure Trixie will be okay with it too.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Every Moment Is A Pearl
If we were to ask our souls this question, and I challenge you to try, we'd get, "Absolutely, when you are on that richly challenging and beautiful planet referred to as earth, every moment is most surely a pearl."
If we were to ask our souls how this could possibly be so, given the abundance of moments that appear most definitely un-pearl-like, the response might be:
"Look for it."
In lieu of a New Year's Resolution, I offer the challenge of engaging, for just seven days, in the constant commitment to look for the pearl. In every moment.
If you enjoyed your week of pearl hunting and you'd like to extend that most ecstatic experience of sharing in the perspective of the soul, by all means, be my guest.
If we were to ask our souls how this could possibly be so, given the abundance of moments that appear most definitely un-pearl-like, the response might be:
"Look for it."
In lieu of a New Year's Resolution, I offer the challenge of engaging, for just seven days, in the constant commitment to look for the pearl. In every moment.
If you enjoyed your week of pearl hunting and you'd like to extend that most ecstatic experience of sharing in the perspective of the soul, by all means, be my guest.
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