We whine, complain and, often, forget to give thanks. We take the ecstasy for granted sans offering any gratitude and grumble when it's our turn for agony.
As I entered my studio this morning, put my things away, I was drawn to my sacred circle, between the Deco theater seats, orange '70s nurse's lounger and meditation tent. It's quite an eclectic place, but where I have centered by just-begun Turtlebox Stories group. It's anchored by a primitive pottery circle of seven persons, arms intertwined.
After lighting the candle and watching the light dance among the stone faces, I sat and confessed to Spirit that yesterday was a rough day, then caught myself saying – though it wasn't really me – but today will be better. I chuckled because it's almost the identical line from one of our favorite kids' books. Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse by Kevin Henkes. Lilly is obsessed with her new possession, distractingly waving it around in class until her teacher, whom she adores, puts it away. She is crushed and drafts a mean note for the fallen-of-her-pedestal teacher. When opening her retrieved purse on the way home, she finds a note from Mr. Slinger that says something like: "Today was a hard day. Tomorrow will be better."
Yesterday was my experience of agony: a loathsome and deep tiredness from too many broken nights of sleep. Of course, that is where I was stuck much of yesterday. Last night was not a perfect night, but improved to the point that I start my "working" day with Divine guidance. I'd already had prayer time swimming laps and in my warm caccoon of a prayer box sauna. Still, now, sitting in my circle, I seek God's shape for my day.
It's arrived in the guise of understanding that, in the past week, I have experienced the mountain-top revelation, been warmed by a charming new spiritual-nurture group and, also become somewhat of a zombie. I am living the full experience of life.
I have been the facilitator and the facilitated, the healed and the healer, the mothered and the motherless, the strong and the weak, the faithful and the doubting. My humanness only wants to feel the pleasantries. It's tired of the tough stuff, the things that have to be forced and worked out, the heaps of drudgery.
My 15-year-old lens of tiredness forgets that's not all there has been. It tends toward comparisons, always making sure to inform me that everyone else is much better off in all manner of ways.
When I clean that lens and re-focus it away from myself and toward God, I get a different picture, one more like the fire-lit faces worshipping what they have been given and keeping that in their circle, casting off to the dark what is not from God.
Today already is a better day. I look forward to hosting two very special groups this week: Turtlebox and Artsy Fartsy. It will be full, but I leave the details in Spirit's hands.
• What's my fallback reaction to hardness in life?
• How can I transform that if it's not healthy or Spirit-led?
• How can I take Mr. Slinger's advice that it will be a better day?
• Where do I find my sacred circle?
• What do I receive there?
the pattern of
busyness is all
too easy to sink
flares to tell us
how long must
it take for that
agony to reach
us, teach us?
how can I relax
into Spirit's work
in Spirit's way and
not my own?
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