Embrace the Sky

June 3, 2023

The topics that have snagged my attention over the last several years—the plandemic, the masks, the mandatory vaccinations—have subsided in my awareness. I saw just two masks when I went out today, surely a sign that even the fearful among us are finally relaxing. 

Ongoing dissatisfaction and impatience for change, which characterized my state much the last three years, were understandable while the Covid theater played out. What’s my excuse now?

*****

The ghost of Gilda Radner tsk tsk’s in my ear, her wry refrain of “it’s always something“ putting itself forward as my motto du jour. There is indeed always something to prompt dissatisfaction. Surely the heart-centered approach would be to go outside and embrace the sky, expressing humble gratitude for all my blessings. After all, even though I’m serving time on Earth, that’s not all I am. Multiple fragments of this consciousness of “me” are likely adventuring in wondrous and exciting realms beyond my human imagination.

Unfortunately, those other-incarnate fragments don’t seem interested in lending a hand with accomplishing the repetitive and dreary tasks required to maintain a baseline of human functionality on planet Earth. 

*****

A lifetime in 3D—possibly an untold multitude of such lifetimes—has indoctrinated me into believing white is black, and black is white. I can’t have the true and pure desire of my heart (even if it happens to be a hot fudge sundae) at the very instant that the desire occurs.

I wonder if the simultaneousness of desire and manifestation is withheld from me, because “somebody” has judged I can’t be trusted with that ability? I wonder if that someone is me. 

*****

I opened the curtain and glanced outside. Three agapanthus blossoms are coming on, still a foot below the bottom of the window but visible when I come to peer over the sill. 

I bet all those things I desire are out there, too, even though from this earthbound position I can’t quite make them out.

A few minutes later I shook lettuce from a bag of triple-washed baby greens onto a white china plate. Something moved out from under a tiny purple-chartreuse romaine leaf. I watched, fascinated, as a ladybug meandered across the plate. 

Purple lettuce and a ladybug, worthy of a poem by Dr. Seuss.

I took the red and black ladybug outside and tossed her gently into the Valerian meadow, chanting softly, ladybug, ladybug, fly away home.