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.

No Essay

It's Monday morning. 


The cicadas are singing. 


A flock of turkeys with babies wandered by.


Turkeys are always a good sign. 


Bless the wild turkeys.


I left This Being Alive on Friday holding a list of *questions in my hand. Thankfully, I haven't returned with a five-paragraph essay on the meaning of life and commitment. 


I didn't ponder. 
I canoed with Jesse and Elizabeth in search of turtles. 
Read. 
Wrote. 
Taught yoga. 
Called a friend. 
Mowed. 
Enjoyed a cold beer. 
Skyped with Michael and Claire in California. 
Deep missing after we "rung off."
Stayed up late.
Left the hall light on all night.


No essay.


Rather, like the cicadas, this steady hum inside me.


It's been said a thousand ways...


Relax.
You believe this must be hard, but it's not.
Do your work.
The next step/door is right in front of you.
Take it/ walk through it.
The next will appear.
Stay steady with yourself, your energy and intention.
It will be easier this way. -


It is easy.


Don't push. Or fret.
Let go and let God.( or *Ethel?)
No need to work it.
Really.


simple practice
simple practice
simple practice
simple practice.


Do one thing: enjoy it.
Do another thing: enjoy it.


Love.


* Read "All Sorts Of Things" - August 5. 2011
            "Call It What You Will" - March 29. 2010

All Sorts Of Things

“Until one is committed there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative ( and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves, too.  


All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. The whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way.

I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets: “Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it.  Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.”

- W.H. Murray, The Scottish Himalayan Expedition

This quote, which many of you have probably read before, came to my attention this morning, in what I consider perfect time. 


Some questions have been stirred:

What am I really committed to? What really matters?
How do I live into my commitments? 

Where am I drawing back, hesitating? 

Am I willing to commit to myself, my path? Unflinching?

This Being Alive is taking the weekend off for ~ 
gentle pondering 
mowing grass
hands in garden
writing
yoga
and finding my way to the river
to slide into the water.


Make a decision = stream flowing 

love that. love you.

xo b

ps. feel free to join in the gentle pondering...


drop a note. i'll write back.

Country Road (Ode To James Taylor)

Today's headline reads:


U.S. slipping into a coma, which is why I want to cancel our subscription. My dear husband loves the newspaper, you can't bury your head in the sand, honey...and I admit to having a penchant for the editorial page and the comics (plus horoscopes)


But the blab-o-sphere has traveled 


so deep into doom, so damn deep.


Slipping into a coma? 


We can't let the bastards get us down.
We must keep ourselves in good spirits. 
And tap into our life-support, whatever that may be...


~ like walking on a country road with E.

The Page Of A Book

Sometimes, to get from where we are to where we are going, we have to be willing to be in-between.


-The Language Of Letting Go


This morning, hawk, perched in the pine. 
I feel thank you.
Woo-woo? 
Did the bird speak to me?
Yes.
Woo-woo?
Who cares, I like woo-woo. 


And what, pray tell, did hawk say? 


rise above. 


Give up poking into every little thing to see what it means or how it's going to unfold. Imagine being perched on this branch, or circling in the sky. From up here, the picture is clearer. Random connections and loose ends begin to make sense. But that's not the point either. Let go of making sense.


relax. 


rise above.


The next step is as simple as...


turning the page of a book. 

That Steady Gaze

She's always had that steady gaze.


I squeaked out the first line of Happy Birthday to Jesse but couldn't get any further. The two of us, crying. 


"Sorry, honey. I just can't seem to..."


After lunch out together, we spent the afternoon drifting on the swings in her backyard; no brass band, no surprise party, no grand hullabaloo. Just us chickens swinging under the shade of tall, green maples, talking about stuff, throwing Mr Squeaky toy for Chewy while Elizabeth, my daughter's daughter, pushed Mr. Bunny down the red slide.


My mother liked to say, I'll always be your mother, even as we grew to be great friends.


"So turning thirty made me think...what are you going to do in the next thirty seconds, or days, or years? I know thirty seconds is a very short time but you can woof down half a cake in thirty seconds or snap at your spouse. Know what I mean, Mom? So, how do you want to live, be. You can break it down like that. Make good things happen. You can see things that way."


30 seconds, thirty minutes, thirty days, thirty years  ~

My kid is smart. 

funny. 

beautiful. 

strong. 

kind.

fiercely loyal. 

loving.

and my friend. I'll always be your mother. 

keep your gaze steady and strong.


happy birthday. love mom.

Ready Or Not ~

Today I feel...


poised to open?
in the process of unfurling?
loosening my grip?
coming undone?
about to blossom?


ready, or not...


Here I come.


and you, dear reader?