Aim high. Ride easy. Trust the Universe.

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We are taught to make plans and keep them, we work our way through predesigned courses of study into degrees and mastery, however, our attempts at real life and living don’t happen that way.

For me, finding where I fit in the world feels a lot like spiritual fishing. The mysterious ocean of experience keeps calling - buckets of questions and nets of honesty - I keep pulling up food for the days and then spending time cleaning and understanding what it has to say.

Every person I have ever loved and every path I have ever been called to has shown itself to me after fishing in the water of my spirit. We are all connected there and, by bringing up and taking in what lives within us can we hope to uncover our common purpose of being.

However, even though I believe in living in the open parts of me I want to hide. I seemingly can’t help it but what I can help is which parts of me - the open or hidden - run my life. What I can rely on in this inexplicable knowing that when I am in the open - seen by the darkest heart or the brightest light - life nourishes even those parts so sorely hidden.

We become so preoccupied with what we are not able to address, what we are not able to mend, what we are not able to leave behind that we forget that whatever we are, in the light of day is slowly but surely, healing the rest of us.

Belonging is a choice - to ourselves and each other.

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in Thoughts 18

Consider how the sun constantly lights our daily world, yet we cannot see the light except in what it touches. Though the sun constantly burns and holds everything living within it’s pull, though it sends its power across millions of miles, it is unseen for all that way, until it hits a blade of grass or makes the spiders web a patch of golden lace.

Similarly, the presence of God powerfully moves among us, unseen, only visible in brief moments we are enlightened, moments we know as love.

Just as we can look at a spider's web and never see its beauty until it reveals itself in the sudden light, we can look at a face - again and again - never seeing the beauty and depth in each other until one, or both of us is suddenly revealed. Spirits show themselves in just this way, or rather a gentleness of little secrets and slightly dark hearts allow us to see and be seen.

It makes our search for love a humble one. For what is there to do but grow in the open and wait.

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in Thoughts 26

I was talking to a tree the other day and it said to me "Universe when I come back I don't want to just be wood." So I thought out loud 'What's wrong with being wood?" 

"It's hard," the tree said, without cracking a smile. "I want to come back soft and furry so that I can be loved by children.

So I thought and thought and thought and finally asked 'Why not be tall and strong, just as you are, and be loved by children?" and the children came to play.

It begs the question, time and again, do you really think you have to change, to have what you want?

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in Thoughts 15

When we count with our eyes we stall the heart -  for the eyes can see clearly what is broken without ever feeling the break, and the mind can calculate the loss without ever sewing up the wound. Without touching the life coming apart before us, we can race to rebuild before the wrecked dream ever hits the ground. While this makes us resilient and efficient as ants, it also keeps us from living in what we build.

What makes us precise and efficient can also begin a life of neurosis, not touching what we see, not feeling what we know. This is how the mind skips the heart's step. How we forget that blood on the news is real and that the cry from the street is attached to something living. Such a profound and simple lesson: to count with our hands brings us deeper than all counting, numbers give way to notes and sums give way to song.

But one the hardest blessings to accept about the heart is that in the image of life itself, it will not stop emerging through experience. No matter how we try to preserve or relive what has already happened, the heart will not stop being shaped. The curiousness of life brings me, time and again, to this realisation that - despite my resistance to accept what we've lost is behind us, despite our need at times to stitch wounds closed by reliving them, and despite my heroic efforts to preserve what is precious, despite all my attempts (at times) to stop the flow of life, my heart knows better. I know - at my core - the only way to truly remember or stay whole is to take the best and worst into its tissue.

The heart keeps us going by moving us ever forward, though I walk around thinking I can direct my heart, our hearts are endlessly shaped, like the land, often against our will.

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in Thoughts 22

Everyone personalises and projects, personalising is mistaking what happens in the world as always having to do with you. Projecting is the reverse, it occurs when we place the things that happen in us onto the world around us. Often unknowingly, we attribute our fears and frustrations to others. Rather than accept my own anger I see you as angry.

The truth is that no one can avoid personalising or projecting - there are only those of us who are aware of it and those of us who are not. Those of us who own it when it happens and those of us who don't But this difference is crucial. Not owning things can end relationships. Owning them can deepen them.

Humans have spilt soup for eternity, and generations have made excuses saying "It was the Earth, the Earth shifted" and generations have secretly thought "He meant to do it."

I was the cause of soup spilling earlier this week. As ever my one-word wonder and I were at a crossroads, this one of my making; she projected onto me and I personalised it in return.  I sat with her, after I had spilt the soup, and listened to the emotions in her words and, at the moment, I knew that the difference was crucial to our deepening or ending.

If you want to save the world, when you spill the soup, simply say 'I"m sorry, I spilt the soup."

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in Thoughts 24