Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

All those thank-you notes.

May 20, 2016

 

Oh, I do it, too. All the time. I'm always kind of hoping, in the back of my mind, that I'll get home to a huge, unexpected box on my doorstep--and not something I ordered and completely forgot about--but a "real" surprise, a "real" gift. 

 

Or I hope, every day, that I'll open the mailbox to a huge check, out of nowhere, in my name. 

 

But these sorts of prettily-wrapped gifts are so rare that the hoping for them just takes up valuable real estate in our minds, in our hearts. And now, what should be open, free-range space, has become a caustic, grasping, hoping space (or it will eventually). 

 

If we can clear out those unrealistic hopes that take us away from the insanely, crazy-pants, wondrous things that are in our hands every day (this computer being one of them--sometimes I'm still amazed that I am an adult and can actually own things like this), then we become open to the unexpected opportunity that could lead to one of those coveted checks in the mailbox. 

 

We've become so rigid in our definitions, yes, but also in our expectations. Think of that friend who's impossible to shop for.

 

Now think of the friend who will delight in anything--from a seashell to a hand-carved antique Buddha. 

 

Think of what a joy it is to shop for the latter, what a joy it is to give to the latter.

 

Now think of the Universe (the Cosmos, the Mother, whatever). Which friend would you rather be? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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