On an overcast day which was neither here nor there, not yet Winter but was sending all the signals to shut down, retreat, go inward, deal with IT, I went to Chapters and picked up a Buddha dharma magazine.

Within a few minutes the sounds around me muted and then disappeared. My focus on myself as “lost”, “disappointing”, “lacking something” became blurred.

I was in the messages that I was experiencing. The mind fog lifted and I could see sign posts.

Geoffrey Shugen Arnold’s article “In Accordance with All Time,” reminded me what I had dropped on the floor, lost track of, been distracted away from.

When I was 17 I stumbled upon Henri Bergson in the Old Main Library in Bellingham. I was alone in the vast reading room with the summer light coming in and I felt myself opening to the shift in recognition of time. There are certain reading experiences that are more like a download. And Henri Bergson’s concept of duration gave me the distinct feeling of coming home. Time is a construct.

In Arnold’s article that I now held in my hands I read, “Time seems by nature to be dualistic, a witnessed measure of something passing. What is time without a witness?”

Arnold reminds us that:

Our presence wherever we are is fully and utterly in accord with past causes. We didn’t just suddenly get here by ourselves. We should reflect on the multitudes of past actions, just in this one brief flicker of a lifetime, that brought us to this moment. …. We are each the recipient of innumerable currents of life – through the lives of others- streaming into and influencing our own lives.

As I sat in Chapters I thought of the energy field rivers that had flowed into my life… my genetic heritage; the stories of my ancestors; the influences of past mentors; the large stranger woman who held my cut, bleeding leg together and helped me limp home; the teacher that saw my pain and let me hang out in her classroom instead of being beaten on the school ground; the writers and intellectuals that had spoken to me and “changed” my mind. And I thought of those who I cannot even recall who have fed into my stream from past lives, past associations, unremembered exchanges.
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The author asks us to have faith. To understand that past influences are not always perceived gives us optimism. He asks: “Is there another way of holding something that we do not know yet to be true.” If we are not capable of being cognizant of the past, how can be project with surety the future.

Knowing that we are not infallible in our understand, in our perception, in our manner of connecting to what we want to call truth, opens up the possibilities. It is in this open space that faith lives.

I thought of the Buddhist begging bowl. I thought of the practice of having an empty bowl sitting in the entry way of the house.

We are empty vessels open to receiving. Staying with the question: “Who am I now?” allows for growth, a bigger understanding, and greater gifts coming in.

To know I do not know what formed me, who formed me, where I stand in the flux of time allows faith to be my focus. Not the kind of ten commandment faith. A more complex sense that I am both in time and changing time; that I was both formed and am formless.

As I sat in Chapters, I felt a burst of joy. The room lit up around me. Who ever I am.

I felt 17 again.

During meditation today this phrase came to me. I have always felt the necessity to have a safety net; a backup plan; savings; a good job; maybe a night job or secondary job; a schedule; a short term goal; a long term goal; a plan for renovating; cleaning, improving my house list underway; a new course to take; a stack of books to teach me something; a financial plan; a focus on lowering my debt; a carefully consider future purchases plan.

And yet, I never had time for friends, frivolity, following fascinations.

The three major earth quake, flattening, rubble times in my life have found me alone, gutted financially, and sitting dazed curled up on the floor.

It is not my nature to choose the big decision unless I am forced to. My parents talked about hard work, savings, always took second jobs, and bought everything on sale.

That was the surface reality. It was most like a magic kingdom in which the spell was cast to make us appear a certain way to the outside world.

In our enclave of chaos the reality was very different. Alcohol, drugs, infidelity, violence, and cupboards full of secrets were the truth.

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Time and time again, I chose the same type of man to share my life with and the resultant spinning out into the chaos was the result.

As I sat meditation today, the phrase Working without a Net came to me. It showed itself to be the ultimate manipulation. There is always a net. There is always love waiting to catch us gently from the tree top and hold our baby selves warmly.

What if I released the fear based belief that I did fail; I can fail; I am failing now in ways I cannot see?

What if I understood absolutely that I am held by light, protected and that all of my toddler type mistakes were just me learning? Can I be in love with myself enough to know that I am always loved?

Because I have never, ever, not once worked without a net.

It is neither winter, nor Summer. The leaves during this week have gone from yellow to orange to red over night. I look out my bedroom window and the trailing vines that cover the fence between my neighbour’s garden and mine is shockingly more vibrant every day.

It is interesting that what my eyes expect, does not happen. All summer I have seen the green leaves of the Maple Tree stretching to tease the window glass. And now they are trying out differing colors or letting go altogether.

I find I am kind of lurching toward goals. Today I purchased paint for a wall in the livingroom and all of the supplies I need for the project. I slung bags of soil into my car in order to prepare a bed for the new tulip bulbs. The book I intended to finish reading was by my side this morning and I learned a few things, shut it and sat meditation.

Art projects wait in a pile on my desk.

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One of my desired feelings from Danielle LePort’s The Desire Map work book was to feel connected: to others, to myself, to the earth. And I have been unusually social lately. I went to a movie with a friend and a few days later spent time walking in the rain and talking about mindfulness practice. I visited my son and his daughter. Tonight I viewed another movie with my neighbour and I have another “social date” coming up this weekend.

Is this moving me forward? Well, the issue is that I am working toward goals in order to elicit feelings of contentment. I am learning to just allow myself to cycle through productive periods and through growth periods. When I look back at the last few years, there is not one project or goal that my mind had landed on that I have not finished.

I can trust myself.

The year cycles from apparent stasis to rapid change. I cycle through methods of dealing with life. At times, I attack and strip away all but that which I am focused on. And then, predictably, I hibernate, re-dream, grow in ways I had not planned or expected. I surprise myself.

I do not look forward to snow on the branches or back to the exquisitely colored Zinnias popping open one after another. I just appreciate the deep, peaceful sleep I am experiencing. The quiet fills all corners of my house with its white, expanding presence. The preparations have been made. The segments of the new structures are gathered. I am just here, in the stillness of transition.