Screw Perfection

Yesterday's non-essay comforted me. 


Writing it, I relaxed. My scrunched shoulders drop. 


That old LET GO, LET GOD thing really works.


yes. yes. yes, I thought.


simple practice 
simple practice
simple practice


LOVE.


That is really good stuff. I stand by it.


But there's one more thing. You already know this.


It (you, your life, relationships) will still feel messy.


Occasionally tangled, utterly unclear.


There is no magic pill.


Last night I got the big tap on the shoulder -


Pssst, Betsy. You'll never do it perfectly. 


So, give yourself a break if ~ 


you're not the steady-practicing-non-judgemental-trusting-your-path-unflinching-love-in-your-heart person you aspire to be. Or you ate the chips, or stayed up too late, or don't quite know how to build the bridge back to a friend. Or can't get over missing your mother and know you will never have linen closets that touch the sheer order and perfection of hers. Fuggedaboutit.


Screw perfection. It's a distraction to living.
Do your work anyway.
Relax anyway.
Let go into ease anyway.
Trust anyway.
Enjoy the mess anyway.
Practice anyway.


LOVE anyway.


I'll never do it perfectly.


I'm doing it anyway.

Even If I Don't Know

Rose gave me a green card (years ago!) with a quote from Thomas Merton; writer, monk, teacher, ponderer.


On the bottom of the card there's a tiny sticker with Mary holding baby Jesus and I'm guessing it's Joseph standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. Even with my glasses, it's blurry. I keep it on the fridge. Every so often I stop and read it. It begins:


My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. 
I do not see the road ahead of me. 

I nod, I have no idea where I am going! while I put the kettle on for another cup of tea. 

I'm fixated on knowing where I'm going which completely contradicts yesterday's post, I can rest in life as it is. All fine and good, restful too, but I'm way too busy ferreting-out the exact location of my going-ness to rest. 


But the more I ferret, the worse I feel. 


This no idea where I'm going knot has been tied very tightly to my work life for a couple of years now. After leaving a teaching career eleven years ago, I joyfully embarked on a second round of motherhood along with writing, workshop leading, yoga teaching, artist-in-residence freelance-y work while Claire grew.


But all the panic over pensions and the economy, caring for an aging Dad, worry about money has grown a fear worm that's been eating my joy and trust in huge gulps. 


I've convinced myself that people who have full-time work (with an actual job title) know exactly where they're going and feel really good about it. That if I want to know where I'm going and feel really good, I should do what they're doing. 


This artist's life feels  too hard. I need a real job.

real job = steady pay, pension, health insurance

Can I send you my resume?


Brother Merton goes on to write Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I'm actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you...


More stuff about desire and pleasing, then, 


And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. 


Is he still talking about knowing nothing?


Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost...


I'm thinking Thomas is my long-lost twin...


Some days I seem to be lost. Others I feel very found. My quandary, as I write this, is that I make one out to be the good guy, and the other one, not so good. 


It's a mystery, the whole God thing and who exactly you is and why should anyone trust God, The Universe, Spirit,*Ethel, themselves.


Without trust, I'm screwed. 


Just for today, I will trust that the road I'm on may be the one less traveled, often foggy, crooked and unclear. 


But I'm on a road, 
or trail, 
or a wooded path with sunlight, 
even if I don't know I am...


*read: Call It What You Will 3/29/10

The Tiniest House

Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
You will not find me in stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck, nor in eating nothing but vegetables.
When you look for me, you will see me instantly -
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.
Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.


- Kabir

Be Melting Snow

Lo, I am with you always 
means when you look for God,
God is in the look of your eyes,
in the thought of looking, nearer to you than your self,
or things that have happened to you
There's no need to go outside.


Be melting snow.
Wash yourself of yourself.


~ Rumi

Let's Make God

Elizabeth and I were sitting at the round kitchen table, rolling out play dough and somehow we got to talking about church bells and how we'd heard them in town the other day.

"I like church bells," I said.

"Me too, Bean," she said.

And then while I was making spirals with the purple play dough she said, "God's in Gram's church."

Gram, Elizabeth's other grandmother, goes to a local Catholic church, and must've told Elizabeth that God was in her church.

So then I said, "Well, God's right here too. You, me, even this play dough."

Then Elizabeth said, "Let's make God."

Call It What You Will

Call it what you will:

Spirit

Source Energy

The Universe

God

The Merry Prankster

Ethel?...but I believe this It has a great sense of humor and perfect timing.

You see, yesterday the bra unhooked and I got some breathing room, but didn't allow it to last. I woke up this morning, still quite stuck in my two by four-ness mind/body thing. I admit, sometimes I'm a hard nut to crack. Odd how frequently I point out to my husband how damn stubborn he can be, but now I'm seeing, Hmmmm. Look in the mirror, my pretty, and speaketh to thyself.

Back to Ethel. I found myself in a conversation today that lead to a spiritual slap in the face, for lack of a better description. I took it on the chin with gratitude. Ethel knew I really needed it.

The conversation circled around slogans, mantras, things we say to keep ourselves breathing and heads above water. Easy Does It. Let Go and Let God. Bikers Do It Better. Be Here Now...you get the picture. Gentle reminders that it's okay to be human; in other words, messy.

A friend said, "Oh, before you go, this is a good one. Figure it out is not a slogan." And with that, I exhaled, and said goodbye to my time as a piece of lumber. There was the softest feeling nesting inside me, like God, Merry Prankster, It, sweet Ethel, had dropped the most beautiful apple in my lap and I didn't have to do anything but hold its roundness in my hands and love it.