Mothered by a Fly

There seems to be no end to juicy reminders to pay attention.  To the point that it just might be the universe’s number one message underlying all activity, all events, all stories.  Asking ourself the why of everything, sidestepping preconceptions.  And doing so with increasing fearlessness in embracing wherever our exploration leads.

One of the consequences of this inquiry for me is a humbling appreciation for how much every single situation can teach me.  Such as Max the small fly that has been claiming his space in my home over the past couple of days—space that includes my nose.  

Since I’m not spiritually advanced enough to be oblivious to Max’s shenanigans, much less be un-annoyed, I laugh at the reminder of how immature I am as I strategize how to entice Mac to fly out the back door I prop open, hoping he won’t see it as an opportunity to invite his extended family for a vacation.  That I can be irritated while finding it amusing, as well as grateful for the opportunity to grow compassion for both Max and myself, suggests the riches to be found within every circumstance.  

I find joy in a number of ordinary disciplines that, just so happen, encourage intimate paying attention—writing, drawing, hiking, building stone sculptures, meditation and brushing my teeth among them.  I’m rewarded by awe at how extravagantly mothered I feel by the mother of all, lovingly reminding me, endlessly it seems, to pay attention to the call of my heart here and now. 

Which recently has included a fly named Max.  Or Maxine.

2 thoughts on “Mothered by a Fly”

  1. michael mendizza

    “One of the consequences of this inquiry for me is a humbling appreciation for how much every single situation can teach me.”

    The essential activity of science (and a marriage relationship) consists of thought (and feelings), which arises in creative perception and are expressed through play*. This gives rise to a process in which thought (and feelings) unfolds into provisional knowledge, which then moves outward into action (with feedback) and returns as fresh perception and knowledge (new insights). This process leads to continuous adaptation of knowledge (and feelings), which undergoes constant growth, transformation, and extension (unfolding emotional intelligence). Knowledge (the past) is therefore not something rigid and fixed that accumulates indefinitely in a steady way (as reflexes), but is a continual process of change… When serious contradictions in are encountered, it is necessary to return to creative perception and free play, which act to transform knowledge (and feelings). Knowledge, (and therefore relationships) apart from this creative cycle of activity, have no meaning…
    David Bohm, PhD and F. David Peat, PhD
    Science, Order & Creativity
    *Play in this context is a state or quality of relationship with one’s own perceptions, feelings and knowledge, not a game or given activity.

    • State - ca

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