Haven’t Got A Clue…..

There is a community of the spirit.

Join in, and feel the delight

Of walking in the noisy street,

And being the noise.

…..close both eyes,

To see with the other eye.

Open your hands,

If you want to be held.

Sit down in this circle.

Quit acting like a wolf, and feel

The shepherd’s love filling you.

Excerpt:  A Community Of The Spirit by Rumi

In the quiet of this morning, my second cup of espresso grows cold as I read a page or two out of a collection of poems by the Sufi poet, Rumi.  The words above catch my attention.  I haven’t even finished the poem in its entirety!

I get it:  I need to get out of my current head space which is bogged down with a million and one worries.  Perhaps I should cast all expectations out the window… though that would be damned near impossible at this writing.

I look out at the still-dark sky and reflect on what to do next. I don’t have answers…In fact, I haven’t got a clue.   What is certain though is this: This time, I am not alone as I walk through hot coals yet again. This time there is a life-line of sorts. Sis and family won’t let moss grow under these tired bones, no siree!

So, yesterday officially marked sixty years on this planet. The day began with an exuberant hug by a nine-year-old carrying a bouquet of flowers and a musical birthday card.  Kool & The Gang’s Celebration made me dance a jig across my kitchen floor. The Poodle jumped up in confused delight to the racket of his human love.  Perhaps my nephew thought: What silliness!  I’m not sure.  I do know that a degree of silliness will be the only way to navigate uncharted territory.  What could that be? you might ask.

A thirty-five year old son returning home, indigent.  A train wreck of seemingly limited possibilities, at this moment at least.

God doesn’t give you more than you can handle, right?

Sigh.

He needs to sit down in the circle; smack dab in the middle of it I say!  He needs to give it all up to a higher power.  He needs to quiet his mind long enough to truly feel the love (both tough and gentle)  of those who want to help him find a better path in this life.  He needs to be open to the heavy task of change in front of him.

Alas, my man-child appears not to be ready for any of this.    The reality of this cuts deeply.  My heart is heavy and weariness overwhelms.  It significantly impairs any excitement that I can muster for entering a new decade.

I mustn’t lose hope. I must not quit. Not yet anyway!

Never lose hope….never quit.

I must keep the home fires burning one way or the other.

Prayers appreciated.

 

Shredding, Shredded…Gone?


I’ve been back in middle-earth-land for a week.  I needed time in my own bed….in my own abode….even for a few days.  It’s been quiet and lovely.  I’ve caught up with friends, read some, and cleared (mostly) a bunch of DVR recordings.   I’ve also shredded most of my life. Letters and cards, obsolete paperwork, email communications that I had printed a gazillion moons ago, and old legal correspondence too.  

As I leafed through stacks of stuff I had pulled from plastic bins and file folders—the good, bad and the ugly stuff—my heart was heavy.  Sure, there were happy sentiments amongst it all which brought tears to my eyes, like cards from my children with smiley faces, Crayola-colored hearts, and “I love you Mommy” written in that quirky penmanship so characteristic of little ones.  But there was ugliness too:  Words on paper that cut deeper than any blade could…baggage much too heavy to carry….all thrown into plastic bins, saving them….for God knows what?

Why have I been holding on to all this negative shit for so long?  

I can’t tell you how many times the shredder shut down because it was over-heated.  But now the deed has been done.  Years worth of my life shredded to itty-bitty bits.  Cathartic?  Yes, to a degree.  The words and sentiments of some of those shredded pieces of paper are still with me, stinging…hurting, perhaps until I take my last breath.  Fear not though…. as always, I’m a work- in-progress on that.   Shredding was a huge step, wouldn’t you agree?  Truthfully…I feel lighter already!   I think of a saying by the 13th century Persian poet and mystic, Rumi, that I happened to read just the other day:

To arrive at clear water, one must first shovel through mud.


So peeps, It’s been raining steadily since the wee hours of the morning.  Though we are far north of the state we are catching some of the wicked weather system that has already claimed the life of a young boy on the short strip of Alabama coastline.  In the words of American Clergyman John Shelby Spong, “Mother Nature is not sweet.”  

Tomorrow we head back to our temporary living arrangement as we continue to wait for this house to sell.  We will have eleven hours in the car to contemplate everything and nothing.  And yes… I’ll be blissfully happy to see my four-legged love….among other things.