Just another manic Monday...

 

Several times today, I have had to reel myself in and slow myself down.   I am all over the map. It has been a grey foggy day, all yucky and no sun again.  I was looking at some pictures of my gardens and my yard...thinking a peaceful meditation might do the trick.  

 It helped some. For a while.

I am tired of winter.  I am tired of ungrateful people.  I am tired of whiners.

 When I get like this, I know something is up. This time I am just not sure what.  My spiritual path is not a defined, clear cut path. I envy people [sometimes] who have a very clear purposeful idea of who and what and when and where. That has never been my story.  I have crafted a loving concept of God in my life, fashioned of bits of this and pieces of that. I don't put much stock in religions and dogma.  I believe that God works in my life when I ask for guidance and for help.  I know that I don't ask nearly enough, in the day to day living portion of my program. I think I keep God in reserve for the really big stuff, the emergencies. But I forget that as God cares for the birds of the air, God cares for me.  I forget that it's okay to put everything in God's lap, and that means EVERYTHING.  My fears, my joy, my husband, my family. My finances, my garden bounty, my animals and my friends.    I sometimes forget that I can put me there too. When I am bewildered or angry or scared or tired....it's okay to take a deep breath and just crawl right up there in that big safe lap, and relax.  It's the only way to survive this life some days. To take a break and slow down and have a cup of tea.

My brains get whirling like a blender every now and then. I used to have a good tonic for that problem, it was called Glenlivet.  I put down the scotch and traded it for a different set of tools.  And it isn't always enough.  Today it isn't enough. And I am picking through whatever else I can find in this dusty old box to make something work. Writing always helps. I've developed a bad habit of late of doing all my journal writing on the computer, and that isn't nearly as cathartic as using a pencil and paper.  I'm also spending way too much time in front of the computer, so I stepped away for a few hours today.  I tried meditating and couldn't force myself to be quiet. I walked around outside a bit, checking on the chooks and such. Fed them a bag of spinach. Poked around in my herb bed. Listened to the singing of all the birds who are rejoicing in this rain...snatching up bugs and spiders and worms.  Looked at the subtle signs of springtime...the daylilies are pushing their little nubs up through the snow.   There are the beginnings of buds on the fruit trees.

After a while, I started to shift...in that grey area I was stranded in, I could see little bits of brightness, of clarity. I'm still not right, but once I get to feel the shift in my attitude, I breathe a sigh of relief. I look around and see that I can be okay, if I choose it.  That I am not responsible for anyone else's happiness....only my own. That I am glad to live out in the country, where the dogs chase that fat old raccoon out of the yard every night, and the cats bring me gifts of tiny voles and leave them on the door mat. Where, any minute now, the trees are going to burst forth with green leaves and the flowers will start to bloom and then beauty around me will soothe me like the touch of a Mother for an ill child. That time will come, it always does. And I have the photos to prove it. To remind me.  As Mary Oliver so aptly puts it:

"...My work is loving the world.  Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird....equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast, there the blue plums.  Here the clam, deep in the speckled sand. Are my boots old? Is my coat torn? Am I no longer young, and still not half perfect?  Let me keep my mind on what matters, which is my work. Which is mostly standing still, and learning to be astonished."

Namaste.