Biased breathing

April 21, 2013

The energy in the church always feels more peaceful and welcoming. Why is it that I tear-up at the slightest hum from the choir or gurgle of the pianist’s throat? Meditation sets my ducts flowing since I have the luxury of time to note my roaming inadequate and unwelcomed thoughts and inevitable hunger pains.

I have been requesting assistance from “up there” for quite some time. Seems like years of yearning, wishing, hoping, pleading with results a far cry from the requirements. How can I insist there is such an energy of promise, miraculous intervention when it does not materialize in my own life? “Whatever the proper lesson, please know I have learned it!” insisted one of my recent clients. I wholeheartedly agree. Yet, what other option do I have than to continue forward, in motion, expecting a decent well-paying job, comfortable place to finally call home and a completely healed foot. What alternatives appear more reasonable, increasingly effective and undeniably productive?

People who know me well are in disbelief and thrown off guard by my discouragement. I am tough, resilient, pragmatic and never ever give up or give in. Hope has turned into expectation which in turn lead to disappointment and what remains is the leftovers that have grown green and fuzzy which everyone tends to ignore in the corner of the refrigerator. Who wants to talk about the Great White Elephant in someone else’s livingroom (since I don’t have one at the moment?)

So I lie on the floor, pat, stroke and hug Tyrus while waiting for the tea water to heat up. Put the bag in the cup and sip the earthy liquid for there is nothing left to do in the moment. Breathe.