Fighting your own mind, man. It's exhausting. (I bet if I did a word search for 'exhausting' on this blog I'd find more entries than I'm willing to own up to; I think I'm exhausted a lot). But I'm not sure why I (we) fight so bloody hard. The mind is built to take the controls. It's like some dystopian world where the machines take over (although, don't get me wrong--sometimes I think my life would have been a lot smoother if my computer could have made some of my decisions for me...just saying).
But the heart--the spirit. That's old. That's nature. That's the Green Man, the Earth Mother. That's Elementals and old cardinal-direction-five-element magic. All we need, really, is one huge Margaret Atwood-imagined disaster before the earth reclaims all of us and all of this.
So. Why are we, little cosmic microcosms, any different? I'm not saying bring on the disaster--good goddess, no. What I am saying is that we have a choice in every moment. We can choose to let the machines run this story, or we can step back and allow nature to guide us. You see, we have that watcher intelligence--that thing that is neither technical mind or earthy body.
It can give us the space to chose. It has the superpower to stop time--just for a breath (long enough) to see the wood in the design, the natural in the choice.