Jane and I set intention today to complete our collaboration by Labor Day. This is the summer, the time to bloom our experience. I want our sharings on the blog to be complete by then, so, I can start September in renewal. I sit with who I am. I have stood out. Now, I blend back in. My intention is to complete.
The years come round. So, too, I see it is important for me to honor the circles I draw, the daisies, with their petals, meeting in the middle and flinging out, always to return. Complete.
Intention to Complete
live in the shift of knowing what is begun will complete
when desire hovers
like a mother and father bird
feeding and protecting the nest, eggs, and hungry mouths,
and when it is time,
time to teach,
flight will beat
and the sky will catch and chew the toss
of its sea.
I used to think life was about more,
more cakes, pies, and cookies -
eat and feast -
but now, I think a cookie could feed a nation -
I understand the loaves and fishes of Jesus -
I always thought he made more -
now, I understand -
what was there, was more than enough.
the people were fed inside -
In talking to Jane, I realize something key. My mind is coming back, and I’m starting to think, and, in that, I am not always present. The judge is back. In chemo,
Jane and I speak of the goal of meditation, that place of no-mind, and yet, don’t we fear that place sometimes? No mind? What does that mean?
But that is the place to work with the horses. Intention is there, yes, but mind, the trying place of mind is not.
I am going to share a story from the cancer therapy circle. I do not think Robert will mind. He came early and saddled a horse one day. He was so thrilled that he thought all week about doing it again the following Friday. He came early the next week, enthused to saddle the horse, but the horse immediately backed away. Who was this man? This was not the same man as last week. This man was trying to do it right, to do it perfectly. He was in his head, his mind, and not in his body, and the horse was having none of it. He backed away.
Ah! This is not easy stuff, and it is. I start my day with that, with intention for ease, that place that seemed easy, at times, in chemo. No mind. Hmmm! Can I ride that sled today? There is no snow, so I'll ride the rays of the sun, and the blades of grass reaching easily to hold it, just as is needed in this moment of humidity tweaking the light.