A Whiney Girl Wishing

Always I feel torn between beauty and sadness. Sometimes I feel so spoiled, other times so deprived. Actually, I only feel spoiled as a guilt reaction to feeling deprived. Example? I have this beautiful photo of a lotus flower on my computer desktop. Staring at it just now, I really wanted to be out in the Botanical Garden, walking around, examining all the perfect details of its flowers and plants. How can something as transparent as a pink lotus petal be so sturdy? I want to touch it. I'm tired of the fakeness of the photo. Of all fakeness. Of even the fakeness of cruelty and disregard -- I know these are fake, because the core of us is light, and the meanness is what we use to isolate ourselves from ourselves, because the light means that we know better than the cruelty we engage in.

And the sadness. I do still believe that the disappearing bees could be the canary in the coal mine. The hubris of humans, the ingratitude, abusiveness. It’s too much.

And then something happens, someone says something, and I’m thrown back to another time; I’m stunned for days, lost, a child, cold metal on my throat. The only refuge I have, my heart, light, but I want to remove myself from the world. I want more, forgetfulness, illusion that there is some nurturing for me. I want something savory in my mouth, a pampering meal, an art I can taste, the wine of forgetfulness, then a walk with the sun and the wind. I want to remember that the world is, core-deep, something more than this inescapable cruelty and selfishness. Why do humans so rarely know what is precious? Why can’t we hold those things gently, quietly?

I wish that in my life no one would ever raise his voice to me again. I wish for some shelter, some sheltering, some home of my own, or some sharing of that, some cupping in the hand of this little flower of me, some art I can feel, some thing consistently gentle and kind.

And then I feel sad and selfish for these thoughts, because I know all too well how privileged my physical surroundings make me. And it’s spoiled/deprived all over again.

The simple Is. It’s the flower that takes me closer to That. Thank you, Universe, for those flowers. Please help the bees find their way home.

And me, too, if you please.

:-)