I have not written for ages. Okay, not true — I have written a lot. But none of it worthy, finished, edited.
Follow-through? Not only, lacking enough, being too something and not enough of something else. Mundane with the spiritual, only the spiritual is split for the moment, then back again, from the mundane. Finding a new voice, a second chance (in spiritual terms — repentance), a do-over. So sweet. I start afresh.
What am I saying? To whom am I speaking? What matters most? The Holy, the Truth, so bold and so true. Poetry in motion. Yet, today meditation was a chore, when I got to prayer, thanks to meditation, I was grateful for the practice, for the tradition, wisdom in tradition. Brought about Grace, my prayers are routine, yet faithful and effective, sometimes repetitive, and maybe that's the point. I close with the Lord's Prayer, in the middle comes repentance. I ask for the Lord's mercy, and then envision a white light moving from the crown of my head to the base of my spine, down to my toes. I literally bathe myself in the Lord's perfect, white-blue light. His mercy, His forgiveness.
So that works for me. Sometimes I open with chanting Himalayan prayers, then mala, but not always. Sometimes I prefer to be in the presence of God's Creation, practicing outside in nature. Hearing his creatures chirp and sing. I sit on the rocking chair on the front porch, and think, it's true: I am officially old, in my rocking chair on the porch! Then I do just the mala, since the prayers I play with the phone. The truth is, practice is work, yet it is a daily reminder of that which by our nature, without effort on our part, escapes us, although it is actually our deepest longing. So ironic.
I am teaching yoga again. It is good, very challenging and rewarding. I was asked to step in. I see the things that we are asked to do in our lives as God's will in action. So I responded yes, and am so enjoying it in a new way. Particularly being in the studio again, hands-on and with dedicated students that I have known for years. I tear as I write this because it is just so beautiful. And different. Something inside has been transformed by the Holy Spirit in this process. These little changes that bring joy and gratification in this season of life. I have a true teenager, taller than me and a seven year old. Two blessings beyond measure. A beautiful Christian husband and father, a home, food, lovely life. I do not attribute my good fortune to merit, and I am so blessed, and humbled, for the poor, the needy.
But we are called to act where we are with the people in our midst. So I try to live this out in the ways I can. One of my students, David, told me about a food shelter where he volunteers. I may look into that too. I did that at our old church downtown. Feeding and spending time with the truly needy I found rewarding. I enjoyed the people I met, and hearing their perspectives. I enjoyed seeing their familiar faces and getting to know their spirits. We went back to our home church during Covid, and have stayed. I sing there again, so that is nice, although this week Calvin is playing for a historic church in Petersburg (Robert E. Lee's old church), and I will sing Panis Angelicus.
So practice, sung prayers, mala, Christian traditional prayers, ending with Lord's Prayer, and one Ohm Shanti (Peace) to all. Sometimes it flows, sometimes it's easy, sometimes its work, labor, effort, grit. But it's worth it, and reminds me what it all is worth.
So this post will be posted, edited, and finished. It may be too much, or not enough, but I accept it is what it is. This is my season now; do it anyway and so be it.
