Floating

I must confess, dear readers, that I’ve been floating somewhat lately.  Lest you think I’m still stuck in the doldrums (last post) I assure you that floating is different.  Doldrums is kind of like dead in the water—no breeze and you can’t get your little boat going in any direction.  Floating is more like you’re moving, but you’re just letting the wind take you where it will.  Friend invites you out—oh, okay!  Gotta go to work—right!  Olympics on—yes, yes—watch til fall asleep!  You know?  Looking back, I may have begun floating when—on a bit of a tear—I picked out fabulous new furniture for my living room to replace the dutiful, long-serving pieces that were ready to retire to the basement. I was told it wouldn’t be delivered until the end of August, which was just fine with me as there was much to be done—a veritable domino effect of things—in order to ready the living room for its new occupants.  All was going swimmingly until I got a call saying the furniture was coming in a few days rather than three weeks (!!) and had to quickly move the old sofa and big armchair down to their new subterranean home.  Suddenly, there was no brute strength to be found anywhere—oh, except for on Thumbtack, the online service which connects you to people who help you do what you need done---at a cost.  And apparently, it now costs about as much to get rid of or even move your old furniture as it does to buy it in the first place.  So, young readers who are still trying to figure out what in the world you might want to do for a living, here’s another quite lucrative option!  At some point I grew weary of trying to coordinate the schedules of two of my three sons (the third lives in another state) to see when they might be able to help me, at which time I believe I let go and shifted to float mode. And it turns out that Son #3 is coming home soon to celebrate Son #1’s birthday, at which time I will have a captive workforce, which I will take full advantage of.  Problem solved.  But on to bigger, more universal things.

I woke up this morning knowing that it was time to get my little boat moving in a direction determined by where I want to go.  Enough of the floating. The thing is that working towards a goal, or manifesting a dream, or whatever you want to call it—requires focus, and intention, and devoting of time, and spending of effort.  There’s simply no shortcut.  Watching an Olympic athlete perform is supreme testimony of this.  What we sometimes also need to get us moving is inspiration—a word that originally comes from a Latin word meaning to breathe in.  Once it gets to Middle English, the meaning includes “divine guidance.”  And I do believe in this.  I’ve had too many experiences not to.  In fact, I meditate every morning—a practice that for me involves breathing deeply, a kind of routine prayer in the form of asking for assistance with different things, and then an openness to receiving.  So this morning, towards the end of this ritual during which I had asked for—among other things--inspiration, I was still sitting on my bed, eyes closed, when I saw in my mind the most beautiful, lush, full rose with deeply colored velvety petals slightly opened.  It was as if my face was very close to the center, and as I watched, the petals slowly started opening.  It was so immediate, so in my face, that I could almost smell the fragrance.  It was simply beautiful, and it felt as if I was staring into the very heart of life.

 A few minutes later I went downstairs to start my morning and decided to turn on the radio to a station I recently started listening to that features classical music, as it seems to be about the only music that doesn’t feel jarring to me these days for some reason.  It’s as if my soul needs to be soothed—there’s just so much going on in the world that’s upsetting that I need something to counterbalance it.  As soon as I flipped the radio on, I heard the strains of a violin playing music that sounded simply other worldly….the only word for it was heavenly.  I was absolutely transfixed, and immediately used my phone to identify what exactly it was because I would have been so sad to never hear it again.  This was fortunate as I was then interrupted by something and thus would not have heard the announcer explaining what it was and therefore the music would have been lost to me forever, most likely.  It’s not as if I would have been able to hum it for someone in hopes of them recognizing it for me.   When I was finally able to check my phone to find out what the music was and listen to it all the way through (I had happened upon it towards the middle of the piece) I have to tell you that I started crying as I was listening to it.  It was simply that beautiful, with a kind of poignancy that somehow assures you that there is something good and true to believe in in this life because it’s simply not possible that this music does not come from some divine place.  I asked for and I received my inspiration, and just in case you might be in need of some yourself, I leave you with the incredible Hilary Hahn playing Ralph Vaughan Williams’ “The Lark Ascending.”