DURING THE STILL PARTS
waiting for the rain or the “ah ha” of a great giggle or the taste of an illusive insight. I’ve been spinning yak and silk by hand. So smooth and natural. It reminds me of this photo and others taken in China on the Tibetan Plateau.
Here at home the still parts are stolen from the “ought to be doings” like the dishes, sweeping–all the busy things we imagine ourselves doing to imitate the kind of person we think we are.
In an amazing effort to just keep things going, I can ignore important skirmishes on the periphery of my awareness. Its an old habit like thinking I need gas money to get to the next gig, keep pedaling or the bike will fall over, wondering if someone will say I can’t camp here, or if ‘it’ will be okay.
It’s ironic to be in the sweetness of my years, not needing the worn smooth survival tools I carried close. The still moments don’t last forever. I understand that everything is moving.
During today’s still patch, I think I’ll quit arguing with myself about having a part in the big crazy thrilling dance. In stillness I’m just a compassionate, creative, and awed being…grateful for the stillness to notice.
