This playground
is meant for every person
who aspires to use all of life
––the brutal, the glorious, the just plain nuts––
to cultivate a well-honed heart,
one increasingly playful, loving and deep.
All part of the grand adventure of answering
life’s two most important questions:
What’s going on,
and what’s the healthiest action I can take
in this moment?
Every life event, beginning with each breath and extending even to nuclear holocaust, painting our toenails and eating a carrot, has but one purpose: serving our soul’s evolution to conscious union with all of existence—God, in other words. There ain’t nothing else going on, so far as I can tell. I’d be amused to know
What might we call the “turning point” from an ego-centered life to one that is grounded in the principle that all is God—and therefore unshakable goodness is our essential nature? My best answer of the moment is this: the turning point is when we become willing to entertain the possibility that we are the cause
There are two reasons, I suspect, why I keep a distance from the world in almost whatever form it appears. Well, other than the offerings of saints, nature, art, fellow travelers who know they’re on the inner road to everywhere, and anyone standing in front of me I can serve in the moment. One,
What’s it take to be sober 35 years? Probably every recovering alcoholic on earth knows the cliché answer: Don’t drink; don’t die. Sobriety, when it means abstinence, has always been easy for me. I knew from day one of recovery that my long romance with drinking and dope smoking was over. There was no question
I’ve been knocked around my whole life by the following question: To live in the ferocious blaze of Eternal Divinity, what must I attempt to remember in every moment? Big toe in decade nine, here’s what I’ve learned so far:
Penned in my journal this Christmas morning: In the night, I would have been as unsurprised as I can imagine if I were to leave my body. Which is to say death was in the building. Not necessarily to announce “Your table’s ready,” as Robin Williams put it, but for some other reason under the
Getting out of my car upon arriving home I came upon a dead rabbit in the gravel driveway. It had been there a short while, not long enough to attract bugs. Clearly, I had run over it, the tire track on its corpse being conspicuous. It must have happened when I backed out earlier in
The upheavals of the past five years, none of which need further explanation here, complemented by the actuarial implications of life’s 9th decade, add a certain sense of wonder to the ever-present mix of considerations of worldly-world existence, a sense encapsulated in the question: “Are you ready to give up your body?” My answer is