The Vibration of Being

We drove up on the Blue Ridge Parkway and the green in so many shades seduced me into a wonderful humor. The white dog wood and the other purple, pink, orange, and mauve blossoms dripped all throughout the green. The tall dark tree trunks were like sentries … holding the sky up so green could flourish and announce that there really is life after death. I saw a wild turkey but asked to see a Pheasant and a few miles later there was one walking across the road (I think it was one anyway). I prayed for a bear if it was in the highest good for everyone and I saw no bear but maybe one saw me.

  (Photo taken last year)

I’m smiling. Less than two weeks and we’ll be headed to see our grandbabies

(and a new one to come May 21), families, and friends.

I’ve always wanted to be someone else. Now I’ve decided to forgive all my judgements, my criticisms – my separation from my self – and come home. I’m fairly simple. I like to love, help out, hug, smile, cry. I’ve wanted so much to be clever, sophisticated, smart – so much so that I’ve missed acknowledging my own strengths, my wisdom, my experience – with life and death, with being with great human drama/crisis and being steady.

I’m coming home, finding my own starness, my own selfness. This separation act is the same thing we do with spirit, deny, repress, reject – separate -. We create the dream of separation and relive and relive the pain. Releasing the dream, we awaken to our own uniqueness yet acknowledging our sameness as other beings. The pull and tug are over. Joy rushes in, explodes.

  Sitting on the old New England porch I inhale the sweet perfume of the geraniums beside me. The plant has grown a long stem and buds have appeared. They are sleeping as the sun climbs up and over the roof of the neighbor’s house. They look like seedpods and feel like soft velvet. Some are larger than the others are; some have the beginnings of peach-rose colored petals all tightly huddled together, similar to rose buds. I want to blossom as effortlessly, magically as this plant with its stalk, buds, and petals. I want to express my true nature, as simply, without fanfare or orchestra. I want to be without expectation that someone will sit beside me admiring the soft fuzz on my buds or the fan-shape magnificence of my leaves. I want to emanate joy just by being myself, my soft petals like tiny lips kissing the morning air. I lean over and kiss the buds, turn the plant around so the leaves, stems, blossoms can exercise their natural way by leaning to greet the sun.

The days of travel blur … I go out for a walk in the evening and can’t remember what state I’m in. A couple of days ago, speeding along back roads with no lunch place in sight, I call a Holiday Inn about 60 miles ahead and asked for suggestions for a diner that would be open for lunch. Amanda was very kind and gave me directions to the "I don’t Care Grille".

Once seated, I asked the young male server how the restaurant got named. Smiling he explained that when someone is asked where they want to go out to eat and reply, "I Don’t Care," then they now have a place to go. The server went on to say what a genius his boss was. I wished their chef was more of a genius but we ate and went on … .