Monday, November 29, 2010

Doing V Being

I wrote this on Nov. 17, 2006. This was before I was a bloggin’. It is so funny and irreverent, I just wanted to share. I’m still irreverent, but in so many ways I don’t even think like this anymore. Thank God, I grew up some or maybe I grew down.

Here we go-

I think we are here to discover who we are and then to rest in that blissful knowledge. From the starting point of Self we naturally create a non-efforting lifestyle that provides safety, joy, peace and adventure. To think that doing will finally uproot our souls into a place of statue and meaning is the logical conclusion of the ego. Fortunately we weary of the doing drama and either through depression, illness or mental weariness; we give up and allow that presence of being its rightful place. When the mind gets out of the way, God steps in. God, God, God.

Not the God of our fathers, not the warring God who sanctions countless acts of violence in the name of peace. Not the God that favors one religion over the other, one people over the other or even who favors of all things a particular football team. Get real. No not that God, but the God of living presence…The presence that pushes aloneness out the door and bestows the soul with a sense of completeness. Only when that God comes in, that Goddess, that being, can our doing mean anything at all.

Doing, as a cure for meaning, has miserably failed me time and time again. Personally, the dance of life has flip-flopped in an irregular sort of fashion, something like a bowel movement. Just when I think I am regular, I step into a holding pattern and I am no longer in touch with who I am. I become an ego frozen in a contemplative pattern of bull shit. It is not until I notice the stench that I realize how my thinking immobility is calling for a mental laxative. I think I need to re lax and the universe sends ex lax. Ex lax is the unexpected seemingly dramatic end to life as I am attached to it being. It is as if life proclaims, “No More, we will have no more of this bull shit.” Then the relationship ends or the illness takes over, or what ever comes along....there's a radical turn over or turn away from that and I emerge like a scared rabbit in a tiger’s body and my mind exlaxes into a new pattern. The bull shit comes out and I reclaim my spiritual heritage. Strange plan. So whether I am kicked in the butt or held by the hand, my soul always provides a space for getting out of the fire and out of the frying pan. Amen.

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