Roller Coaster Lag

Woo-ee, what a ride.  I can’t tell yet if the roller coaster has actually come back to the station, but it’s stopped the loop-di-loops.  No more clackity-clackity as the car creeps up the vertical slope before plummeting straight down.  I hate roller coasters—hate the barfing, hate the feeling of the car flipping off the track, hate the useless “safety” bar, hate the other people laughing and throwing their arms in the air.  No, give me a nice ferris wheel any day.

I’m tired.  Today I’m going to the Big City to do my favorite things:  read magazines at Barnes & Noble, go to a coffee shop for a fine beverage and a turn with my journal, shop at Hobby Lobby for my Extravagance Of The Day—a new white gel pen, and sit meditation with my buddies.  I might even go to the arboretum and luxuriate in all the flowers.

I need a break from all the seriousness and flop sweat-effort of the last couple of weeks.  I need to laugh and look at pretty things, smell cut grass and listen to water fountains. Just getting in the truck and singing with the radio, driving through the countryside for an hour, will help charge my batteries.  That’s all I’m asking, a little juice.  Then, I will gladly hand over my ticket for the next ride.

If I have to.

Though, I’d much rather take a boat out onto a placid lake where the ripples have miles of water to spread out and fade away.  The gentle sway of the boat.  The touch of the breeze.  The loons warbling in the distance.

Sorry, I drifted off there for a minute.  At last.

Flip Side

It looks like I have to deal with Side B of my recent manic Number One Hit.  The depression started creeping in yesterday.  In the morning I felt great, strong, ready to get back on the horse and ride that pony well.  As the day wore on, all that energy bled out.  My dreams last night were sad, full of people I’ve lost because of my illness.  This morning I feel defeated and old.

There’s nothing to do but this.  All the wishing, and wailing, and wheedling with the Universe won’t change this tune.  This is the song I have to sing today.

But, dammit, I have a strong singing voice.  I used to crank up my Linda Ronstadt and Bonnie Raitt CDs and belt out those songs until the cats scampered for cover.  Much as it sticks in my throat, I can sing this song, too.

Choosing Evolution

I live on Earth at present, and I don’t know what I am.  I know I am not a category.  I am not a thing—a noun.  I seem to be a verb, an evolutionary process—an integral function of the universe.—Buckminster Fuller


The Big Questions followed me from sleep this morning—Who am I?  What am I supposed to be doing here on this earth?  Am I on the right path?  I needed to honor those questions today, so I got dressed quickly and drove to Ames to the Unitarian Universalist church.  I’ve attended the UU church before, when I had money for gas, when I missed my friends in Minnesota and my spiritual companions in Foundation.  The congregation seemed defiantly secular, proud of their dedication to science and Logos, fierce in promoting sustainability and political responsibility, but dry where spirituality is concerned.  In the past, I left the services feeling parched.  But, since UU seemed to be the only alternative to straight-up Christianity in my vicinity, I figured a partial fit was better than none at all.

Today, a professor of astronomy gave a talk about Galileo.  I stretched as far as I could to find some smidge of spirituality, but came up empty.  Galileo’s discoveries opened up the mysteries of the universe to human kind as never before.  I had to settle for that.  But, then, we sang Dona Nobis Pacem as a round.  In the ancient hymn and simple harmonies I found what I needed.  As I sang, I closed my eyes and felt the swell of emotion around my heart, felt the energy from my heart traveling out with my voice to join the other voices in the room.  For a moment, I felt connected to the people in the sanctuary and to a greater mystery.

When the service ended, the woman sitting in front of me turned around and took my hand.  “You have a beautiful voice,” she said.  “Sitting in front of you was the service for me today.”

Who am I?  What am I supposed to be doing here on this earth?  Am I on the right path?  Today I was reminded that I am always in the right place at the right time, performing the right act, if I open myself to the possibility.

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