Spiritual Beings on an Earthly Adventure
This post is dedicated to my two Carols who continually inspire me with their spirit. 🦋
I find my Spiritual Center in a forest, under a tree and in my garden. This morning I see a delicate mist has lightly varnished my garden with a moist glaze. Droplets of water pool in the open palms of leaves. Soon the tiny puddles will disappear, returning to distant clouds. The lush growth emits cool, fresh oxygen to the air. I inhale its sweetness and it fills and expands my awakening body. I return the favor exhaling CO2. My garden and I sustain each other in this symbiotic exchange. I fall into the rhythm of inhalation and exhalation; my spirit rides on each breath.
Tulips and daffodils, now fully awake, are stretching to meet the rising sun as it warms the air. As if to acknowledge my presence, they dip and sway. I nod back. I see a few more buds ready to open, their tightly wrapped covers now relaxing their grip, offering me just a sliver of yellow. Spring mornings awaken my spirit and allow it to heighten. Earthly fears or worries retreat. My mind unclutters.
Any illusion of separation from creation is dissolved. There is unity. Communion with God is as close as my own breath. I have traded realities: my human condition for my soaring soul. Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, French philosopher and Jesuit priest wrote, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.”
My spirit thrives in these quiet settings. New energies pour into every cell. Streams of consciousness run through me like rivers of white light. I am recreated anew. Calm assuredness washes over me, and I am fully present in “Thy will be done”.
I need this time to tamp down my overworked, often interfering ego. My days are not devoid of prayer, but often my daily supplications are one-way transmittals. The phrase “sending prayers” captures the one-sidedness of our earth-based prayers. Mine can take on the tenor of agendas, a Godly list of “to-dos”. Even when I remember to tack on the all-encompassing disclaimer, “if it’s your holy will,” I am not sure if I really mean it. My petitions can take on the energy of “my will be done”.
If I am not a Type-A personality, I must be a runner up. I can be obsessed, even driven. I plan. I strategize. I fret. I allow fear to sneak into my thoughts. I imagine a loving, bearded, grandfatherly God, indulging my frenetic pace, chiding, “Gloria, my child, why do you push so hard?”
Here is my garden, under a tree, each breath reclaims my spiritual center. My soul is ignited by the smallest of things. A dewdrop. A fragrant gardenia. A step. A breath. They open an immense flood of awareness. Revelation.
Consider the possibilities with de Chardin’s words: “Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, we will have discovered fire.
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