This Morning 2/11/12

The difference between up and down is not all that different.  It depends from which place one is looking.

I suppose I first understood this when I was in an airplane over the Pacific Ocean and looked down at the clouds against the blue of the sea.  For a moment, it felt as if I were looking up from the Earth at the white puffs against the blue sky.

I was enlightened to realize it is from where one views life which gives it its meaning.

On this subject, last night I so enjoyed playing some music with an old friend.   From old folk songs and to jazz standards with a few originals.  I had more fun doing that than most anything I've done in the last six months.  Sincerely.  I had real, no pressure to perform, fun.  My voice cracked a few times and I slipped on more than a few guitar chords, but the experience held meaning.  It wasn't the glow of the firelight or the afterglow of a simple meal.  It wasn't the particular songs or the strong bond of friendship spanning decades between us.  I believe it was the place from which I was viewing the experience which brought its meaning.

The fact is we are often caught between two spaces as we walk through our day.  One space is that of the experiencer and the other is as the observer.  I'm not interested in a Buddhist interpretation or psychological evaluation of this, although there are those; I'm interested in the part of our spirit which climbs out of our present experience every once in a while and checks out to draw a conclusion, espouse a silent opinion, standing aside instead of within, outside instead of inside, the moment.  These two spaces hold distinct views of any experience.  Yet, the reality is, there is only one actual sky, one actual sea, one actual cloud.

On some level, the meaning of the experience last night was held by my participation in the reality of the cloud, sea and sky.  I cannot define with words how or why I got to the frame of that reality, only that I know I was there.   It felt good.

This Morning 2/10/12

The Beginning.  Starting.  The first time.  This time.  To begin anew.  New Moon.  New Day.  New Sun.  Wake up.  Don't look back.  The best is yet to come.

The ways I try to fire myself up to get on with an idea, a project, a lesson, a sense of renewal in my life  expressed in all of the above.  The truth is, it is hard for me to begin something if I think of it in terms of ongoing.  However, I will give it my best shot - another euphemism for getting off my tush.

However, this is not really about getting off my tush.  It's about restructuring a life which has, for the last 20+ years, been about raising my children the best I could while maintaining my own identity.  An identity which has developed in those years, but really, has been tied to who I was when I began raising my kids.

Holding on.  Holding on to myself for so long, so I wouldn't lose myself to the diapers first - well, truthfully - the husband first, then the diapers, then the myriad activities, then the divorce, then the other marriage and divorce, then the teenage angst, then the falling apart as I watched them hurt themselves, then the realization I was not in control, then the resurrection of sanity within them, then then then...

It's always been something, about something.  I'm fifty years old now.  To write the words is easier than to see the number, staring at me.  I've always thought of 5 as my lucky number.  That's a wake up!  But five with a zero - no.

This is the first day.  My intention?  I can't stand stating intentions - it's so new-agey.  I know my intention.  Create commitment.  The only commitment I ever kept was to my kids.  I am not interested in wondering why really; I just want to transfer the commitment to my own life so I can survive for the sake of my own life.  For the sake of the purposes I have come forth with into this life.

For every morning.