Humbling

"We must be willing to get rid of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is awaiting us," said Joseph Campbell. I have this up on the door in my apartment. I've looked at it for years, watching as my life bobbles in the direction I am supposed to go. Several times now I've thought, 'there! I've got it' and then it swivels again.

As it has now.

Jumping off cliffs is not easy stuff. It not only can kill me, it can make me look awful foolish, vulgar, lazy, and hopeless. Yet it is the incredible flurry of air blowing my hair back as I go that tells me to allow, allow the mystery to continue. Friends gather, others run, family scratches their head, some stop calling or call with big pauses, and I, on the other end, hear my voice but don't know who is speaking.

Mary Chapin Carpenter sings, "I'm Almost Home," and I hear her.

Reading a book by Margot Anand on "The Art of Everyday Ecstasy." Come to find out I'm imbalanced inside. Not chemically. Don't shove prescriptions at me, but my inner male and female are whacked out. I want to feel ecstasy on an everyday basis. I have learned that this life is meant for growth and joy. Even when it's a searing, maniacal growth spurt. Anand's book works with the Seven Chakras. Why is everything of the spirit in groups of seven? Living in ecstasy (not that E) is hard to find minute by minute with blocked chakras and I'll put some money on the inkling that I've got a few corked up. I'll find them and unblock them. In the meantime, I'll keep writing, filling up the notebooks and watching the messages come out. The short stories aching to be written not just in my head but finally spilling out on the page. Always there, it was I who had to catch up.

The 'lazy, crazy days of summer' I've not had even if I look like a bum.

I'm not.

I'm just almost home.