“…you see, my desire for you is relentless and consumes me much of the time.
“That is why, after the initial euphoria has passed, there is so much unhappiness, so much pain in intimate relationships. They do not cause pain and unhappiness, they bring out the pain and unhappiness that is already in you.” Eckhart Tolle The Power of Now
From where do pain and unhappiness originate? Does it matter? It all dissolves at this moment. Here and now are all that matter, however reluctant I am to stay with this discomfort, I persevere in acknowledgment of what is and embrace the sensations. And so it goes back to wherever it came, as I bask in the true love I am surrounded by and come from.
Image source Minneapolis Institute of Art
There are a few things I am considering while macerating these to formulate some relatable content to digest and hopefully feed your soul.
- Unselfconsciousness- Acting in a manner where one is not conscious of one’s self
- Seeing beyond my own hurt and worry, through action in an attempt comfort or help another and authentically caring thereby alleviating the pain I felt. What is the source of that pain?
- If we are unwilling to trust people to make their own decisions and be accountable for themselves, why on earth would we trust putting people (elected “representatives”) in place to make those decisions and still be left unaccountable?
- Degrees of receptivity to a higher calling- it can be strengthened or left to wither and evaporate
- Apprehensive can mean something other than anxiety
- What is essence?
- and finally, That everything and everyplace is sacred and worthy of reverence
So there you have it, stay tuned for more on these and more in the coming weeks.
God Bless you all and
It is a sad day, that we knew would come too soon. Stella aka Peep suffered from renal dysplasia. She only had less than 25% kidney function.
She was in a litter of 10 from a bitch rescued from Standing Rock Reservation
I’ll miss her. She was a good companion
Please be the person your dog thinks you are
I’m in a state of shock and can’t sleep
My new place to stay. I am a roommate in the 3rd-floor unit. Yes, it’s a walkup.
I was, somehow able to keep my strength, stamina, and attitude in top form.
I am still unpacking and have a few items to bring, store and, or discard at the old place.
Wish me luck, so far so, good.
it happens in a split second
— and for no discernible reason.
Out of nowhere, I find myself overcome
with a wash of gratitude for everything,
And each time I know that whatever
divine human potential generates
the sudden waterfall of thanks,
it certainly does not come from me —
the little I who trundles along keeping
a watchful eye out for sand traps
and bee stings.
No, it comes from a place much deeper —
from my Higher Consciousness
— and accordingly, it seems
both odd and familiar at the same time.
Although I walk around as ordinary as ever,
this unseen Visitor rushes forward with quiet feet
and tumbles over everything I meet.
As a result, I find myself
staring with gratitude at the chair,
the radio, at a cup of tea in my hand.
Feeling grateful for the sun, reaching inside
to paint itself across the living room floor.
And grateful for the windows that permit me
to watch elm leaves dancing in the sky.
Grateful for an ant, alive and purposeful,
hurrying along a baseboard to complete its chores.
Grateful for the familiar face of a neighbor,
jogging casually along my street.
Grateful for an unexpected idea which burst
into my morning out of the blue.
Grateful for an old jacket, which has served me
kindly and gently for so many years.
Grateful for breath, grateful for flowers,
grateful for life.
But that isn’t all. I tell you this
unearthly gratitude is so expansive,
so oceanwide and unblinking,
that it even embraces things that would
normally be triggerpoints: like bills,
like burnt toast, like a sore back.
So that, for a while, all irritants
are bathed away in a wash of inordinate kindness.
Without these blocks, I am left
with the largest and simplest element of all:
And after some time it passes,
this immense blessing, as quietly as it comes.
For a while, I just sit there,
looking around the apartment with a sense
of emptiness, wanting it back again..
this formless, timeless, healing,
heart-filling taste of Divine Love.
And of course, It has never left.
It is I, with my subtle attachments
to this world, who keeps Love
at a distance.
But here is my wish for all of us:
may the Sacred Visitor come to our door,
and find us ready.
by Elsa Joy Bailey
This week a theme has been percolating within me since my last post and the one before that. Things that I’ve read, things I have been thinking about, I know that is a dangerous endeavor, given my thinking problem. I have uncovered something that seems universal. There is no way I can be of any help if I can’t comprehend what you’re even talking about. In addition, good things grow out of compost.
If I am to help anybody find God I must understand the sinner- God Calling
One thing that had been scratching the inside of my skull was one I heard in A.A. meetings and I found it here.
A drunk fell in a hole and couldn’t get out. A businessman went by. The drunk called out for help. The businessman threw him some money and told him, get yourself a ladder. But the drunk could not find a ladder in this hole he was in.
A doctor walked by. The drunk said, “Help, I can’t get out.” The doctor gave him drugs and said, “Take this, it will relieve the pain.” The drunk said thanks, but when the pills ran out, he was still in the hole.
A renowned psychiatrist rode by and heard the drunks cries for help. He stopped and said, “How did you get there? Were you born there? Were you put there by your parents? Tell me about yourself, it will alleviate your sense of loneliness.” So the drunk talked with him for an hour, then the psychiatrist had to leave, but he said he’d be back next week. The drunk thanked him, but he was still in his hole.
A priest came by and the drunk called for help. The priest gave him a Bible and said I’ll say a prayer for you. He got down on his knees and prayed for the drunk, then left. The drunk was very grateful, he read the Bible, but he was still stuck in that hole.
A recovering alcoholic happened to be passing by. The drunk cried out, “Hey, help me, I’m stuck in this hole.” Right away, the recovering alcoholic jumped in the hole with him. The drunk said, “What are you doing? Now we’re both stuck here.” But the recovering alcoholic said, “It’s okay, I’ve been here before, I know how to get out.”
Taking all of that into account, all of which I, wholeheartedly agree with, I am willing and able to get into the foulest putrid muck of the abyss, with you.
It is a place from which I have emerged, but not without someone who has been there. So the cycle continues, a seemingly catastrophic fracture of psyche takes us to unfamiliar territory, where the solid ground on which I once found firm and reliable is now quicksand. All of the survival mechanisms on which I had relied upon have evaporated. The primary reason, I have found was and continues to be my recent discovery of using things, people, activities to make me feel better. That I was maniacally self-centered and demanding that these things continue to do their magic. They inevitably fail, leaving me in nearly unbearable pain. The only things left are find something more satisfying or surrender.
I ask for help from God, and others who have shared their experience with me, elucidating the familiarity with my dilemma. I can sit in that dark place with you and share without fear and grow.
Why is it that we are so ready to chatter and gossip with others when we so seldom return to silence without some injury to our conscience? Perhaps the reason we are so fond of talking is that we think to find consolation in this manner; to refresh a spirit wearied with many cares. And so we speak of what we like and dislike, and of the things we desire or despise. But in the end, this outward attempt to find consolation is only an obstacle to our inner life.
Let us watch and pray that our time is not spent fruitlessly. Let us not busy ourselves with idle conversation, or with what other people say and do.…Blessed are the single-hearted, for they enjoy true peace
And a piece of music I’m enjoying today
I am returning to the theme of wanting, too much, to help. Can I help?
In my encounter with someone, I care for and am paying attention to. I identify with the struggle that is apparently, to me, going on with you. I immediately relate to something I have experienced. I begin to formulate and present a plan of action to alleviate all of your problems.
I devise an elaborate plan to build a magnificent being from the shambles I presume. And I wonder why you suddenly are unreachable or react like I must be talking to somebody else.
Then I’m confused and bewildered as to why I can’t reach you. I know I recognize the pain in your eyes. I have deduced that you are interested in improving yourself. We are on similar paths. I know not exactly but close enough to be arrogant enough to think I have the answers you need.
You see I am afflicted with being a typical, however weird most of the time, Male of the species. I want to fix things. I want most to deliver solutions to perceived problems. When all that is really needed is understanding and expressing that what I am seeing is authentic and valid. I just need to be there and will be when you need.
I care about people and have defied, with His and others help, the death grip of addiction and self-absorption. I know you can too but it’s not my place to decide when and where.
To understand. To do my best to see. To be ready when the time is at hand.
I love ❤