a new year's dedication

When choosing a dedication for the new year, I often spend a lot of time reflecting. This years theme seemed to barrage me from all quarters, in fortune cookies, in greeting cards, in notes and songs, in conversations and print. I chose happiness because it is something I resist and eye with suspicion, like a shady thief whose brilliant smile coaxes me, time and again, into a modicum of trust only to rob me of its riches come morning. Obviously, a skewed view of joy, founded in a belief that transience bespeaks falsehood (a belief, by the way, that I don't seem to apply to suffering). I recently heard Adyashanti speak on a similar topic with a challenge to "Allow everything to BE as it is". Wow. It seems difficult until one acknowledges that everything IS already as it is and it is insane to try to resist it at every turn while drowning out the "now" with a chorus of dictates on how it should be, has been or could be. The Course in Miracles reads, "Would you rather be happy or right?". Interesting how often we choose to impress our "rightness" at the cost of joy, our beliefs at the cost of truth, our story at the cost of peace. When once I asked my kid brother how to sustain happiness he answered with the twinkling eyes of youth, "Well Sis, it's just like flying in Peter Pan, you think happy thoughts". Hmmm. That is easier said than done, since thoughts seem to flow through the river of mind at the level of consciousness. Could a dedication to happiness raise the level of the water? Or might it encourage a playful dance with the waters of life, choosing to float and trust our innate buoyancy. This new year's dedication is an experiment really, asking what life might look like through the lens of joy. It's not a resolution, rather a north star pointing ever to this moment AS IT IS RIGHT NOW.

Comments

Wind said…

I learned something just now. Thank you for the words that led to an insight, thank you for the invitation to allow without constant editing what is. Aaaahhhh....

January 4, 2011 at 9:03 PM

grief

Grief is defined as a deep or intense sorrow. I have been thinking a lot about grief, about it's wide and sticky reach, about the watery quality of it's absorption and the agonizing effort of swimming to shore. Intense sorrow happens. It is a part of life. Yet we press against it. We try to eradicate it. How? We encapsulate our grief in a story, thus effectively removing us from the immediacy of the pain. The mind promises salvation and begins to tell a story, over and over and over. We listen to the inner ramblings, the constant diatribe, the neurotic attempt to avoid the experience. When someone is hurting we listen to their story, we talk about it, we recount our own story, but we certainly don't jump in the waters of sadness, instead we sit on the bank of our familiar longing. Once, when I was floundering in deep grief, my youngest brother knelt next to me and held me for over an hour. He didn't speak. He didn't commiserate. He just jumped in the

a story recently shared by a friend

Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment. When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help. Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you." Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!" "I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself

Inosculation

I learned a new word today! Imagine my joy to discover "inosculation", to taste the word for the first time, rolling it around the soft interior of my mouth before speaking it aloud with a shiver of delight. I am a lover of trees, not metaphorically but literally. I linger beneath their branches. I tear up beside their solid beauty and revel in the rough, steady touch of bark beneath a wide sky. I love learning anything new about my beloveds and today I discovered inosculation , which literally means to unite intimately. Sometimes trees grow so close to each other that they rub up against one another. The friction of bark on bark wears away at the hard outer layers, revealing a tender, vulnerable, embryonic layer of life. If they stay in contact through the friction they will join together, uniting into a third thing.... a tree union. In such cases the trees share their life force with one another. I can think of no more perfect metaphor for beloved companions. Th

angelbirdflies

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