“Always Wanting Another Now”

Lao Tzu

I had a wonderful conversation today with my dear friend Monique, my old walking partner.  I walked on the beach while she pushed her stroller through unseasonably warm Farmington.

We talked about how we fall into the trap of always wanting another “now,” when this moment is the only one we can live in.  We spend all our energy striving for future change and “progress,” but paradoxically, we only progress as we accept and pay attention to the moment we are living in, rather than wasting this moment wishing for another one, a different kind of now.

This moment is the only one where we have a body and can act and choose to be wise, kind, and grateful.  Yet we so often mentally leave this moment to fear, strive, worry, and plot our future or lament our past. But in the past and in the future we are paralyzed, because we can never live there.  It literally takes away our God-given body to always have our mind in the past or the future where we cannot act.  How ironic that we come and have this physical experience only to end up spending all our time disembodied—mentally the past or future where we are powerless—our eyes closed to the moment’s lesson God has already provided for us here, in the one place we can act, in this very moment.

Our intellectual mind wants to know the plan–sure, we trust there is a divine program going on, but could we just see the whole blueprint first just in case?

I think it is a matter of trust–do we trust that God can provide this moments lesson here and now, where we can work with it, and that the lesson is the right one for us?

Why do we assume that our own weaknesses or past mistakes can derail the Divine ability to make this flawed moment the perfect teacher? Can we trust that God is big enough to make this imperfect moment and our flawed self into the perfect lesson?

And wasn’t that the beautiful, painful, grace-filled plan from the beginning?

The circumstances and players of this moment in my life is both irrelevant (because all moments have divine power to teach so much), and also so very important (because this moment holds the most relevant and perfect lesson I need in this moment).  My moment’s lessons, when I stop to look, breathe, and feel my body from the inside, are often exactly what I need, I learn that I am safe, that there is beauty, that I am held.

This kind of post I usually reserve for my other blog with spiritual thoughts, but this idea of not wanting another now is so critical to this experiment.  To learn from this, I have to be here in both mind and body, and it’s strange how hard that can be in this crazy world.


Farewell, Berthoud

Colorado was amazing, I still have a few more pictures to post.  Patricia is really a saint–one of the few people I know truly without guile, a patient mother with a rare combination of a peaceful spirit and an adventurous soul.  It is such a blessing to call her friend.  
We have great plans for this week.  It has been a great summer so far.  I take GREAT offense that the retail stores are already doing “back to school.”  I call BOYCOTT!
(Patricia and I worked a bit clearing her chicken run and I found a snake. Just in case you’re wondering what that is there.)

True Americana

This amazing old silo on Patricia's farm is truly a historical gem,
complete with the handprints of the original masons, a sign of true
Americana. The place has so many great outbuildings. The tool shop is
on the left and the chicken coop is on the right. She has four poults
which will begin to lay in September.

The Dutoit Farm I

The farm house (with front patch that will be a soccer field next
year), house from rear with Patricia and farm cat, the seed house, the
smoke house and the new silos. Today Patricia and I investigated and
speculated about the big red barn and checked out the amazing old root
cellar. The place is full of dreams and schemes and enough scraps from
decades-old old dreams and schemes to help build the new ones. Today
for lunch we had summer fruit and broiled open face tomato cheese
sandwiches under an ancient weeping willow. I hear the Jewish phrase
"Next year in Jerusalem" ringing in the back on my head as I wonder
how our future farm will be different and the same. And, will it
really be next year?

At the Dutoit’s in Colorado!

You can expect quite a few posts in the next few days as we enjoy the
gorgeous country just outside of Berthoud, CO. (Pronounced "bertha"
with a D at the end.) Their farm is over a hundred years old and
surrounded by green corn fields and amber waves of grain. Pictures to
come. Today it's raining so we went to a free movie then to a magic/
juggling pirate show here at the library. The kids loved it, even the
too-cool tween sitting back by me had a smile on his face. Kudos to
Ann Lincoln the magic pirate juggler. Thanks to Patricia for her
hospitality and a very fun day!