hearts!

I am listening to a dharma talk given by Tara Brach.  She tells a story of a young man who, after a heart transplant, begins to use new words, crave new foods, and listen to new music.  He even dreams of a crash.  He is lost in the hospital, trying to find the chapel, late to meet the wife of the man who gave him this heart, this new life.   The wife knows that her husband's heart is near, and so she waits 30 minutes past the meeting time, and will keep waiting until the young man arives.  She is a physician and usually has a scientific skepticism, but she is absolutely certain that her husbands heart is in the hospital and on the way.   And so she waits, and the young man gets to meet the woman who married his new hears when it was in another man's chest.  The young man learns that his new cravings are the cravings of her husband, and the wife learns that her husband's love and passion is still very much alive.

I had to pause.
The overwhelming word was this:  (to me, but I share with you)
"If you are not loving the experience of being alive, stop what you are doing, and move in the direction of your bliss!  There is absolutely nothing worth losing the love of life for!"

I was potting plant clippings, taking time to reconnect with mud, taking time to get out of my head and into my hands.

And then this story knocked me right into the absolutely stunning space of surrender.  Out of the head, into the bliss.

Oh, my lovely friends, what makes you come alive?  What makes you live?

I love you.

Diane

Modern mode blogging

I can't believe I came here without a notebook. Even with the urge to write, I'm still happy that I didn't bring my laptop. It has a way of pulling me into manage-and-control-life mode, and I'm here for the opposite of that. But really? I packed nothing to write with?
Ah, except my smart phone. My how times have changed.
It has built in dictation that is mostly functional. It might be fun to experiment with. It might be also be choppy and difficult and weird.
I'm at a casino. I'm here to spend time with my mom and grandfather, and to enjoy life away from normal life. As I'm wandering around the lobby of this odd, odd place, I do wish i had a journal. A keyboard would do. Something familiar. Something that I don't need to think about, that let's me set down words effortlessly.
I've been watching my mother and grandfather with those kind of eyes that search and explore. I'm watching the strange and common strangers, hearing them with stranger's ears. Noticing the rhythms of the many kinds of employees and business men and the many kinds of travelers. Noticing the lack of common dress or common manner. And I want a paper and pen. I wonder what on earth happened that I don't have a them. I want to tell stories about the strangers and now I'm one-finger typing about myself on a smartphone.

The evening people have a different vibe than the day timers, and I'm over it already. I don't really play dress up and I'm not here for lust of money or sex or power. I don't give a shit about being cool. So I'll meditate say my prayers and send my love to all my loved ones and fall asleep before my 90 year grandfather even gets back to the room. Tomorrow I'll try a writing exercise with this blogging application, and I'll find a notebook.

I want get in the habit of writing regularly before I spend six weeks in Thailand. It's so odd that I even say that. Never before these last two highly transitional years did I ever consider writing a habit. It just was. I carried a small journal with me everywhere I went, and never stopped writing things down.
Now I have this smartphone and I may sacrifice it to the river gods and ask for my writing habits back. The sacrifice would be metaphorical, of course, because I am too hippy to throw a phone in the river. But I might kill the smartphone gently on Craigslist and I won't miss how it grabs so much attention.
First we'll try this blogging from the phone business, though.
Want to help, friend? Send me a topic. Something about this casino trip that you want to know about. Then I'll be writing for us both.
Love!