Just Be Where Your Body Is

I psyched myself to go on this errand.  I usually dislike errands; sometimes I put off grocery shopping until there is nothing in the house to eat except a fridge full of garden greenery.

I don’t want to be in this car running an errand. I want to be writing.  I'm probably not where my body is.  My mind is back at my desk.  This morning I put in my 2 hours of writing and got nothing but drivel.  So the need of groceries couldn’t be ignored any longer.



While driving, I count the gems I’ve gathered today: 

 

1. My Christmas poinsettias still blooming in May, planted in my garden next to  Soapwort and Primroses.  

 

2. Anne Lamott’s Facebook post advising her students on how to write: “you decide to. Then you push back your sleeves and start writing--I.e., scribbling words down on paper, or typing at a computer. And it will be completely awful. It will be unreadable shit!”  Anne always makes me laugh. 

3. The caring of a cyber-sister who encouraged another in our group by sending Pink’s song lyrics: “You're so mean, when you talk about yourself, you are wrong. Change the voices in your head. Make them like you instead.” 

4. Another post from The Contemplative Society: “Every moment of conscious presence takes place in eternity. ~ Cynthia Bourgeault”   Someone commented: “And so I'm struggling to know what that means for me on the ground in ordinary time.”  Somehow that makes me laugh too, in solidarity with all the times I don’t get it either.

I love such honesty; let’s call that spade a spade!  I’m equally aware of my conflicting compulsion to pretty that old spade up.  Stick it in the garden and plant a gorgeous flower in front. Or paint it!  Isn’t anything mixed up, confused, ugly or icky more palatable with a colorful layer of spicy paint? 

I ponder the audio book I listening to- The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green, about a teenager with cancer.  I had cancer so I get most of the character’s musings. The poignancy of the story is laced with wonderful humor. Laughter lessens the shock of teenagers dealing with death and suffering, like a coat of paint on the aforementioned spade, transparent paint, leaving the worn out metal shimmering with vitality.

My next thought starts out discontented…a sigh about wishing I could write like John Green…but amazingly I’m interrupted by complete and sudden stillness.  In that instant I’m fully present to the moment.  Everything inside and outside is whole. Perfect. Complete. One stunning moment, thirty seconds long, a blink of pure awareness.

What a gift!  I did absolutely nothing to make that moment happen. “Every moment of conscious presence takes place in eternity.” Cynthia Bourgeault’s statement makes perfect sense!  And it’s utterly confusing. 

Life, meaning, confusion, growth are all such a mishmash. Makes me giddy that perhaps showing up for life, however it happens to be, is enough.

Reminds me of what Martin Laird said in a retreat I attended, “Just be where your body is.”   This continues to be an invitation to me, be at home in my body.  Imagine if everyone would just BE where our bodies are, rather than off to the future or back in the past.  Or wishing we’d be this body or that body.  Laird continued with his gentle advice, “Be where your body is, even if it’s old and creaky or young and creaky.”  It takes courage to be there, emotionally, physically and spiritually, doesn’t it? 

 

 

Sometimes being there means bursting with possibilities, or blooming out of season, or not blooming at all. 

   Make it enough,

        the showing up, 

              doing your beautiful and shitty work, 

                     changing the voices in your head,

                                    being open to Presence…

                    

……….and being where your body is! 

Joyfully,

Sharon