I find it quite awe inspiring in the digitized intricacies, adaptabilities, maneuverabilities, down right beauty and the oppositional forces at play. wow. I am thankful I live in a digitized body
i couldn’t help myself. sorry. I just think fingers and fingerprints are so beautiful and interesting.
separate contemplation from Parker Palmer
“as often happens on a spiritual journey, we have arrived at the heart of paradox: each time a door closes, the rest of the world opens up. all we need to do is stop ponding on the door that just closed, turn around–which puts the door behind us–and welcome the largeness of life that now lies open to our souls. the door that closed kept us from entering a room, but what now lies before us is the rest of reality.”
i quit pounding on the door literally a bit ago with my last burger. I suppose my burger was a way of at least leaving my side of the door unbarred. obviously I have inwardly continued pounding the mental imaginings of the door; i did this in a way only heard by those with which i am close; knuckles still a bit bloody; yet, i was trying to not disturb the other room; repeatedly I’ve turned my back on that locked door but I’ve hovered in a weird preparation of it being opened. I just kind of thought it was what God wanted me to do, i think i misunderstood and my hovering must be a deep fear (?) and grief. of course nothing is that simple. Needless to say I’ve pressed my back into the door and stayed close, rightly or wrongly, but of late I’ve been venturing out in little bits from the locked door. each time I become lighter, and stay away a bit longer–coming to accept barred doors as simply barred doors. it doesn’t even matter why they are barred at this point. they are what they are, no more no less. they are ways closed to me.
acceptance does not really diminish my grief but it let’s me step away.
i find it interesting, moving, that in the spacious giftedness of the other-side of reality I now face, are many things, opportunities, I’ve longed for–building furniture, dwelling in the pine, the scent of starry nights, forming cement (oops, concrete) counter tops, rocking on my front porch. sure there are ways I imagined this occurring differently for always in the other dream were components that are now missing.
the ruminations of being forest and star bound, manifest. it is a gift on loan to me for while I am able and has come to me at a far younger age than i could have imagined. no human had to literally die for this to take place; in my old dream, I dreaded that someone would probable have to pass for the eventual dream fruition. now they don’t. that gives me a comfort.
i will get my rocker, set out my compound miter saw, lift my gaze, and begin stitch stitching with my tie wire in this place. and I will be lighter in what lays on this side of the rest of reality.
all this may require me to take my bike down the gravel road a ways and enter the forest for rides under the canopies as well as plop a kayak into the fluid fingerlings dancing at the forests edge! a new way opens; i will take it and am grateful. don’t think you’ll find me gutting deer in the grassy culvert though, NO; i prefer cow, medium rare please!0