Philosophy – Page 3

Never Regret Betting on Hope, Even if it Seems Your Horse Badly Lost the Race

by Jane Tawel

Never Regret Betting on Hope, Even if it Seems Your Horse Badly Lost the Race

By Jane Tawel

November 14, 2024

A couple days after the shockwaves of what America and many Americans have become was revealed on November 5, 2024, my husband turned to me and sadly said, “I want my money back”. He felt he had bet on the wrong “horse” in the race to save America.

A lot of people may feel that they took a chance, made a bet and somehow, they made a mistake because they lost a race (or several races as the case may be). I imagine there has been among the “losing horses” in our recent national and state races, as so often is the case, of what I think is called “fifth quarter quarterbacking” (I may have that idiom wrong as I am not an acolyte of the religion of football). But I have ignored all news since that day when America chose evil over good (yes, I will say it because it is obviously the case). I have never been a looky-loo and when I see a horrible accident on the side of the road, I purposely turn away. I did my part in trying to prevent the train-wreck that Americans seem to want to create and now, frankly, I need to focus on, what someone once wisely called “the things that shall remain” — faith, hope, and love. As Jesus advised, I will give “Caesar” what is “Caesar’s” and I will turn towards the things I can do both for the little world I actually inhabit, and the Earth that I need to do my part to save, but most importantly, I will turn inward and work on my Self, and Soul. More than ever before in my life, I will work on forgiving others, and take to heart, mind, and soul, the profound words of Jesus: “What does it profit anyone if they gain both houses and the White House — I mean — gain the World — but lose their own precious soul?”

And so, I said to my husband, “I understand your disappointment, but never regret placing a bet on hope.”

All races are temporal, but when you choose Hope, you are connecting with what is divine and of that which is eternal. Because when we are gone from this “mortal coil”, we have to believe that all the spiritual wise Ones were right — the things that are True, the things that are Noble, the things that are deeply and truly in us of faith, hope, Goodness, Righteousness, Nobility, Honesty, and above all what is in us of Love — will somehow, somewhere, in some way — Remain — eternally Being.

And I choose today to also forgive those who chose to place their bets on a horse that may have won, but that is full of literal and figurative disease and corruption. I am working on it, but I am more and more finding it in my heart to pity the “winners” who have no idea what they have actually lost. For what does it profit you if you win everything — the whole enchilada — but do so by losing hope, love, joy, kindness, truthfulness, and open-minded acceptance of others? Why would I ever want to live a life where I have no love for other people, who in their differences are really just like I? I choose to pity people who seem to have everything but don’t understand the words of Jesus — I pity them because I, too, have been just like them at times. And so, when I forgive them, I am on the path to forgiving myself. What does it profit you if you gain “stuff” — if you gain a false certainty about you, your ego and your beliefs and your “team”, but lose the One thing that matters — Love, The Oneness? I remind myself each day: Forgiveness and Pity — those are things I try to do for me and my soul, even if no one knows I forgive them. Even if they don’t think they need it. So, I encourage you to forgive. And to pity. For as Jesus said, “in the measure you forgive, you will find forgiveness.” Forgive the foolish ones. But also forgive the evil ones. Eva Kor, a survivor of the Holocaust, amazingly was able to say this: “Anger is a seed for war. Forgiveness is a seed for peace”; and “Forgive your worst enemy. It will heal your soul and set you free.” Plant the right seeds in your soul today. Seeds of love, hope, forgiveness, and peace. Bloom where you are planted — which is really just your “own back yard”.

So I am seeking freedom from my thoughts and feelings about the past, and freedom from my fears about the future of this nation, this species, this planet. I am focusing only on taking the one step that is the only step I can actually take in the “journey of a thousand steps”. And I am trusting, having faith, that whatever is Good in me and others, will remain, and that all else will burn as dross. I am trusting that the words of that great Shakespearean politician and someone later revealed to be a shyster and power-monger, Marc Antony, are not true, and that “the evil that men do actually does die with them and will be interred with their bones, but that the Good will live long after them.” If that is not true, then I have been long mistaken about what kind of God might be in charge of this Cosmos. Hold tight to what you know in your heart must be true about reality. After all, how many quotes do you remember by bad, evil people and how many do we live by or try to live by when they are spoken by good people? As Martin Luther King, Jr. encourages us, “We shall overcome, because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward Justice.”

Races come and go. Nations come and go. And while it is tragic and horrible to watch a nation I was born in, lived in, and loved my whole life, die a horrible death by its own foolish, greedy, mistaken, and for some, downright evil hands — America was bound to die some day. All nations do. The Bible predicts it. So did George Orwell. And while I am heartbroken that America has decided to die by means of suicide — you know — it is just a nation after all. Just a place and time in history that like all temporal things, is impermanent. Unlike me. Unlike you. Unlike Hope. Unlike Love.

I am all for people still trying to save America. There has always been so much possibility here, so if that is still motivating you, keep your chin up and keep working at it. But at the same time, I do believe that as Jesus and much later, C.S. Lewis taught, we live in whatever “Kingdom” we long for Now — Today. Either you — personally, in your heart, mind and will — live in a kingdom of heaven or you live today in a kingdom of hell. Either you are working for and living in the Kingdom of God and Light — of our better angels and nirvana and Good — or you live — today — now — in a kingdom of “Satan” — darkness — pride, greed, fear, anger, prejudice, racism, and control-freakishness. Either you choose to live in the Light of The Now, when you are all you need to be and have to live — fully and richly and joyfully, as Christ and all great spiritual truth-tellers lived and taught — or you choose to try to live in a past that never existed, because only the Present has ever existed, but you choose to believe there was a time in the Past where you had more, were more, and that the way for you to get back to that place is to take things from other people or inflict your beliefs on other people by force. Your choice.

And just because over half of Americans have made the wrong choice for their lives and for our nation — don’t regret your choice to bet on Hope, to live by the Light of Truth, to seek to love others as you love yourself, never forcing them to believe as you do, but simply letting your Light shine. And never regret a single moment when you felt joy or a single moment when you turned the other cheek or a single moment when you rose above your fears or anger or sorrow and chose to truly Hope and to truly Love. Psalms 51:10 is my prayer today: “God, create a clean heart for me and renew a steadfast spirit within me.”

Two mornings after the end of the latest race in the world’s history of races, and fights between Good and Evil, and warmongers winning over peace-makers — I was running the trail with my very early morning people, most of whom I don’t know by name, only by sight. I did meet Paige and her wife one time, when we were both donating blood at the Red Cross. I said to her as she lay on the table, giving her blood for the sake of others (allusion to Jesus intentional), “Aren’t you on the trail in the wee hours?” She said, “Yes! I’m Paige. Aren’t you “hey-hey Woman”?” (My Kentucky ancestors come out strong in the wee hours on my jogs.) Since that time, many moons ago, Paige and Jane have said “Good Morning (Paige)” or “Hey-ya” (Jane) as we bop along on the trail and pass each other. On November 5th, Paige passed me and gave me the thumbs up sign. I said, “Here’s hoping!” Two days after November 5th, I started to pass Paige, and I saw even in the dark before dawn, tears welling up in her eyes. I stopped, and meekly, tentatively went to her and just put my hand lightly on her shoulder and said, “Take care of yourself today. Take care of your people. Love yourself and love those in your life.” Paige nodded and we went our opposite ways.

And so, with deep humility, I say to you as well: Take care of yourself today. And by that, I mean, take care of your soul — that which is eternal. And take care of your people. They need you. And yes, it is always darkest before the Dawn, but never regret spending your money, your time, or your energies on Hope. Or Joy. Or Love. Always keep hoping to create Good in the place you live in and the people you live with. Remember the words of The Greats, who lived in a world exactly like ours but overcame the negative and eternally live on forever in word and deed, and in Spirit. Keep letting the eternal things motivate you. Forget the Past. Let Tomorrow take care of itself — it is not within your power to do anything about it today — except to keep your hope alive and to keep trusting in the Power of Good.

So, if you are finding yourself today still in a “mountain of despair”, believe as the great Black Preacher and Christ follower told us, in every mountain we must climb, there is a “stone of hope”. Believe as Jesus taught that it not through faith in any one else or anything else, it is Your Faith that will heal you. And believe as he did, that it is you and your soul that above all is a “pearl beyond all price”. You above everything are worth saving. You may not save this nation. You may not be able to save even those you love from making bad choices. And we may not still have time to save ourselves from the most immediate future of trials and tribulations. But we can save and hold fast and tight to those things that remain forever — faith, love, and hope.

Postscript:

My words are meager, but please remember the words of better folks than I who kept betting on hope, no matter what.

Remember the words of Saint Emily:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops — at all –

And sweetest — in the Gale — is heard –

And sore must be the storm –

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm –

I’ve heard it in the chillest land –

And on the strangest Sea –

Yet — never — in Extremity,

It asked a crumb — of me.

Remember the words of the Healer (Doctor) Martin Luther King spoken two months before he gave his life for us by an assassin’s bullet, “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope”.

Remember the words of the Psalms. Psalms 37, 51, 34, and so forth: Hope renews your strength.

And remember how you felt, probably like I did, when you had hope and joy and love. Claim them for yourself and your loved ones, right now. They are not a bad bet — they are your right and they will help you heal the world, heal the planet, and heal your soul.

Morning Promises

Morning Promises

By Jane Tawel, July 28, 2024

****

Gorgeous delight,

this Morning, fresh and new.

I put up a good fight against Your hopeful face,

But why did I ever doubt You?

You have come, not on soft, pitter-patter feet

as once you did when youth was cleanly cleaved

along the lines of good and bad

along the fenceposts of win or fail

when all the dreams we ever had were moored

along the shores of youth’s grim holy grails.

No, your arrival seems to come without my choosing.

And I fight your crashing cymbals waking me from

restless, aching sleep.

The morning light begins to seep like opening wounds

and stirs the ancient fears that all must keep

as close as terminal denial could ever be.

And yet — perhaps to dream — ah, there’s the rub! —

to sleep is but to die a small, white-noise-ed death.

But — Ah, Good Grief! Dear Morning!

With Your quickening breath,

I wake, perhaps to dream,

perhaps to simply welcome one more cup

of coffee, tea, or toasted bread with honey.

Oh, Gorgeous Delight!

Another day is welcome, I’ll admit

And as I sit, I sip anew this life,

this breath,

this dawn lovely.

I wake to dreams that circle round

The Past, The Present, Perhaps… Infinity…

Ah, Dearest Daybreak, Welcome here!

My soul awakes to deeply drink

and dream with open eyes

the peace, the hope, the joy of

All.

With Love embracing,

I face this glorious day,

And forward-backward, onward facing

I open heart and mind

to Be

at One

with You and me

and just, perhaps, a little bit

to glimpse this Morning’s hinting promises

of Genesis Eternity.

The Prophets and the Poets

By Jane Tawel, July 19, 2024

The prophets and the poets,

don’t make much money.

Living not by their wits,

but desperately by what they hope is their wisdom,

they often are fasting

to lose the weight of the world,

to be thin enough that all becomes transparent.

If only they could share the truth,

with words that lighten and light.

Eating one’s words

starves one of daily bread.

And the vines of divine revelation

produce only vinegar and thirst.

The prophets cry, “We Thirst.”

And the poets mourn,

“Why use bread for war and not peace?”

Eventually, the prophets and the poets,

have no alternative,

but to leave the bone-dry banks,

and float downstream.

Unmoored

Unleashed

Unmourned

Adrift.

And there are those days

(and some dark, lonely nights)

when they are desperate to paddle to the shores,

where the solid people stand,

counting profits and not prophecies,

gathering praises and not poems.

Oh, the prophets and the poets have been too long starved.

They have no sensibility

of what others call sense

And at last, as they float,

yearning words fail the poets

and the prophets can only mumble —

their rage, silenced into grumbling.

The crowds have been against them

throwing stones, covering them

in their rubble of words.

They have been censored

by the ennui of the poor

and the materialism of the mercenary

by the loud and the proud,

by the honey-ed and the money-ed,

by the fountain of youth

that all seek who fear old souls.

Silence for the prophets is not golden tongued,

but a still, small whisper.

And the poets are gathered,

at the still point of the turning world,

but yet to join The Dance.

They await their chance.

Leaden-footed verses pull them down

in their clumsy hopes.

And the poets and the prophets

raise hushed voices to the Sky.

“Deliver us”, they cry.

But their words float up

as the Streams of consciousness

carry them away.

Will the gods some day find

at the end of the World’s Waterways,

a happy band of sufferers,

of seers, and seekers,

and all the least listened to —

Find them at the End,

playing weightlessly in the waves,

splashing each other with imagery and symbols,

fishing for food for thought?

Will the mighty someday look down from their rocky peaks,

and find that they have climbed too high

and the dive down now would kill them?

Will we who ignored the song-writers,

the soothsayers,

the children and the very old,

will we left behind

find that we stopped up our ears

and we hardened our hearts

as we hardened our flesh?

Will we discover that we heard only noise

and spoke only words of deaf prose?

Will we find that we have dried-up all the waters

that would have carried us along

buoyed up with the words of the poets and the seers?

Will we some day see

that our stony hearts,

and our craggy consciousness,

did not bring our statues to life,

but made our idols into dead gods?

Oh, My people!

Will we turn out our pockets and know at last

that the pebbles we kept

and refused to toss in to The Stream,

were only great weights on our souls,

holding us down, down, down, as we rose,

drowning us in our own dry deserts as we drank,

and in our refusal to listen

bursting our ears with the beat of our drums?

Oh, we should have listened

to the old,

to the wise,

to the poets

and prophets,

to the cries of the children,

and the messages of the myth-makers.

And now the

poets and prophets float free.

Finally,

their Truth

and The Way of The Words,

have released them

restored them

rebirthed them.

They have been moved

as they never moved others

into The Deep Watery Way.

Now continually composing

in Never-ending New Creation,

They rise.

Dancing waves suspended

in Eternity’s Ocean,

At last…

As One…

As One…..

Sea Shell Sagacity

Unsplash Vafa Karamzadegan

On our last trip in June, I bought some sea shells from the Sea Shell shop in Morro Bay. I gave a shell to friends and family, to remind us of the important things in life (besides work J) that sea shells symbolize.

Shed anything from the past that won’t serve your best interests today. Just like a mollusk sheds it shell to grow into something better and bigger, we, too, must shed the limiting shells of our past, whether negative patterns, outdated beliefs, or painful experiences.
Don’t let imperfections distract you from seeing beauty in things. Be as resilient as a shell has to be in the big, often harsh environment of the ocean. You have already weathered a lot of storms. Let the shell inspire you to find healing and wholeness even amidst life’s greatest challenges.
A sea shell protects the fragile, delicate being that lives inside it. Create your own protective spaces, carve out time for self-care, and set healthy boundaries.
In all cultures and religions, shells represent life. Remind yourself often that Life is good.
Shells remind me of all my favorite places in all the world; places I have explored, visited once, lived at, and have wonderful memories from. Make sure you find time for special places, and if you can’t get to a special place, go to your memories of those places and be rejuvenated and renewed.

May this sea shell remind you of how special you are –unique in all the world – there is only one you! May it remind you that there are people who treasure you as a family member or friend – as I do.

The First Could Be The Last

Thomas Park, Unsplash

The First Could Be The Last

By Jane Tawel

May 19, 2024

The first cup of coffee

The last drops of tea,

The argument you always win

The look the mirror gives back to me

And birds in full cacophony

And trees that hold their secrets

And flowers that always, always die

And smiles, so rare, from strangers

But thoughts of you and them and us

But memories of such and thus

But dreams like intersection lights

But sleeping days and wakeful nights.

Ah, Life! Too short, too short to grasp.

Oh, love too small and love too vast.

Oh, seize the day, seize just this moment.

Awake and breathe. Drink deeply. Love.

This too shall pass.

This morning’s cup may be my last.

And what will be, no soul can see.

This moment is all I’ll ever know

A rare small glory is bestowed

in bird, and tree, and this warm, lovely cup of tea.

Hold all things lightly.

Keep holding fast.

Time passes quickly.

Next moment is the Past.

Yet what I am

that seeps the soul

is what I drink from,

what’s in my cup.

And looking up, to sky and rain

I can not help but hope

that birds and trees and these small hands

that hold your face; hold cups of tea

shall somehow live this moment well

to wake into a world of harmony;

to wake to live again eternally.

Myself, Woman, and Child

by Jane Tawel

Unsplash+Hrant Khachatryan

Myself, Woman, and Child

By Jane Tawel

April 14, 2024

How to say what is meaning beyond Meaning?

How to dig deeply enough to fill up the holes?

Why were you so sad, my child. My child who was once me?

Why do you not let yourself weep, my child? My child, who is still me.

My heart is full of sorrow, but my anger and fear first rise up,

trying to protect me from a grief as old as my ancestors,

a grief as new as unborn hope.

Who once roamed the earth so freely;

who are those who still cry out within me,

crying to see peace fill the World-heart once more?

What dreams and angels hold out unglimpsed hope,

singing of what I dare not grasp?

My soul weeps for a world always at war with love.

My soul weeps for the lost who are evil

and the lost who are so very good.

Shadows come and go.

Shadows.

Ah — my soul rejoices with Her re-joining!

Ah, that which is deep within me,

calls out to Deep.

And for a while still,

my body breaths in and out,

and my heart beats still,

with thoughtless, wordless joy.

And my spirit rises to that

which is unseen, but sensed;

that which is unheard, but felt;

that which is unbelievable, but is known.

Knowing and Known,

I find my sorrow comforted by my curious love.

And the child and woman within me,

are for a moment, sure,

that one day,

we will be One.

Look, Be, Beyond, Here, Now

By Jane Tawel

January 29, 2024

Look into the mirror that has no form.

Looking deeply, down within the depths

you will find who You were meant to be.

Walking amongst,

between, and in,

you will go beyond.

And the shadows will no longer scare you.

And the fears will no longer tear at you.

And you will find you are more —

More than mind,

More than body,

More than your desires,

More than your beliefs.

You will find you are soul.

You will find you are sometimes

Whole.

But when the parts of you

threaten to splinter or

rise up and rile —

You will return to the mirror

and there you will find

that all your parts are taking part

in your rebirth.

They only wait for your surrender.

Only when you see blessedness

and love in the Mirror,

can you find it in another.

Then you will be a mirror for others,

and your reflections of yourself,

will become the reflections

that others need,

and theirs are that which you desire;

and back and forth,

back and forth,

the world’s mirrors will merge,

to reflect only Faith,

Hope,

and Love,

for only these are real enough

to remain.

Today all you must do is —

Be;

but as you are being,

Be fully alive.

Be fully in love

with Life.

And when it hurts,

be the Father and Mother

to yourself and hold yourself

and cradle the child within your very own soul.

And when you are taking yourself

far too seriously,

then release your grasping,

and hold yourself lightly

in your own frail human hands.

Then you will be able to let go

of what is not meant for you to hold on to.

Then you will have hands open

to lift-up another,

to hold another,

to open to wonder and light.

Then you will let go

and let God and All,

Look.

Be.

Beyond.

Here.

Now.

My Blog’s Eight Years of Poems are Published

Hello Blogging Pals,

I have published eight years of poems taken from my blog. Yes, it is a hefty tome, haha. Yes, you will need to over look typos as editing / publishing was difficult this time due to technical difficulties in KDP. C’est la vie! It is a journey of some interesting years in the world, 2015-2023. Some of the poems are not so great, some are possibly pretty good. All are explorations in living and in the genre that speaks to Big Ideas and struggles with words — Poetry.

Thank you to all of you who have read my poems (and other stuff) over the years. If you are interested in a copy, there are two, one with some pictures which is more expensive and one with just the poems — on Amazon on Kindle and in paperback.

Here is the link to the one without pictures:

The other can be found on Amazon and is called just Musings and Meditation, A Pictorial Version…

Thank you dear bloggers for all your comments and likes over the years and most of all for all the great stuff you keep writing that I love reading. May today bring you joy in your journey, Jane

On a New Explore in Spaces

by Jane Tawel

“The Path To Introspection” by catmccray is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

On a New Explore in Spaces

By Jane Tawel

October 24, 2023

I used to follow dogma,

like a person on a short leash,

pulled by my dog-ma,

until I realized,

a person should not be leashed.

I was pulled along by men’s straining half-truths,

(And ideas are often skewed,

by patriarchal, masculine, power-needy views).

Of course, as I worshipped at stagnated troughs,

baptized in another savior’s used bathwater,

I became complacent,

but also confused as I marched a rigid path.

In the safe crowd trodding wide roads,

I was more and more alone.

I thought that I was the master,

leading the Dog,

but one day I said to myself,

“Self, it is supposed to be G.O.D. leading you,

not D.O.G.-ma leading you.”

I had it backwards for quite a long while.

So, I left all my old leashes in the pews,

and walked out the door.

And the light of a thousand new suns

was blinding.

So, I walked blindly,

and tried to tune my soul

to listening, instead.

What does one’s own heart sound like,

when the sounds of all others are stilled?

What do one’s blind eyes see,

when a thousand suns appear?

Now I stride along, and often trip.

My knees are so scabbed they look like

bloodied red Rorschach tests

glued tight on knobby knolls.

But I fall again and again,

and I am finally realizing,

what it really means to

Rise.

I pick myself up and look down many paths,

until I choose a path to follow.

And I know I only need to follow a path

for a while,

until a new way,

that is always also the Old Way,

appears.

I am an explorer,

exploring outer space

through my own inner space.

Radical!

I am finding new ways to understand,

but more importantly,

I am finding new ways to Not understand.

I am finding new ways to get lost.

Good explorers always get lost.

True seekers always get found.

Oh, I am questing

for a clean, well-lighted space.

And now and then,

while exploring my own inner space,

and letting the outer spaces of Mystery,

simply Be;

I am finding that

the spaces created between you and me

by the powers that be,

are smaller than the truth of We.

And in some small way,

I am trying to close the gaps,

narrowing each hard, empty space between us,

And bringing us closer to being

One.

Instead of Thinking, Create a New Heart

Non-Thoughts by Jane Tawel

“The Earth Delights to Feel Your Bare Feet” by Chiot’s Run is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.

Instead of Thinking, Create a New Heart

By Jane Tawel

June 25, 2023

I am an overthinker. Perhaps you can relate. Every moment of every day I find myself in a battle of wits, (or is it witlessness?). The battle is “to think or not to think, that is the question”.

I am also a seeker. And like many people, I have spent a life time, seeking answers to questions big and small. I have found many good and helpful teachers along a blessedly long life-line and I have used their teachings, I hope, to change and grow and better myself, because I believe at the heart of every true teacher, religion, spiritual-consciousness, philosophy, and science is the quest to be the best one can be in this life and perhaps even in some life-beyond. And so, some of us, like I, seek and we find. And then, we doubt. And the doubt for some, like I, takes the form of overthinking. Over thinking the past, which is no more; overthinking the future which is not yet; overthinking other people, both significant and rather insignificant to the reality of my reality right now; and beyond all overthinking, is the overthinking of self.

And I think, (although I may be overthinking this), that what I have realized today in a tiny little section of my overthoughtful brain, is that what I need to do, is go back to the very childlike idea that the happiest moments of thinking are when one is asking questions.

As adults, we sort of stop asking questions, maybe because we are still carrying the hurt of questions that have or had answers that hurt; questions that had answers that were rejections, or made us angry or fearful; questions that often lead to a feeling of powerlessness or depression or despair. And so, we begin to fear questions, of ourselves and questions of others, because we fear the answers or we fear we don’t know the answers, or we want to insist that everyone answer our questions in the same way we do (this last one is especially a problem of our supposed answers to questions in our religions and politics, both of which are temporal and always have been incredibly flawed in any one’s idea of logic.) And yet, being adult gets to be all about knowing answers to things. Rather sad, when you think about it, isn’t it? and there we go again — we think about the answer-less-ness of life so much and it pretty much makes us miserable or numb or facile.

But imagine for a moment, you are a child of about three or four. And imagine that instead of being surrounded by adults who get tired of your endless questions of “how?” or “why?” or “when?”; that you are surrounded by a host of imaginary playmates and other questioning children, all content and happy to live in the questions. And so, as this little child, you are living each moment with curiosity and exploration and awe and wonder. Imagine the freedom. Imagine the joy. Imagine you as someone who needs to know or think about very little at all right now, except what you are doing in this very moment.

And so, this morning, I began with a few little toddling steps. (I am after all not yet old and wise enough to be a three- or four-year-old. I am crawling.) I stopped what I was thinking about (that thing that might happen tomorrow, and that thing that she said yesterday, and that scary thing that might happen to me, and that hurt that I refuse to scab over…) and I stopped myself, and I asked myself:

1. What do you see? (Answer: the interesting pattern of my right sock.)

2. What do you hear? (Answer: a moth flying repeatedly into and bashing against the window, trying to go forward. (Stop overthinking the metaphor in that, Ms. Jane, you are three.)

3. What do you taste? (Answer: milky sweet coffee and a ceramic cup-lip against my lips)

4. What do you smell? (Answer: not much, my nose is a little allergy-stuffy)

5. What do you feel? (Answer: cold hands, rub them against each other, better.)

And life was very, very pleasant just to be. I was aware. And my awareness came from asking questions, and answering them. My mind became childlike and it was very, very good. I liked myself. I wasn’t worried. I liked my life. I enjoyed just being alive.

When thoughts force their way in to the sanctuary that should be my mind, heart, soul and will (I happen to believe they are all inter-related); and when I can’t stop thinking about immediately irrelevant things, or things I have already answered about what I need to do, or want to do, or why I did do; when any thoughts come crowding in like parasites, hoping to feed off of the only sustaining food I have right now (this moment); when they do, I have started saying this simple prayer, “Create in me a new (child-like) mind/heart, Oh, God.” Create. Inside me. New. Heart. God.

I have also written down a list of questions to ask my over-Thinking Brain:

1. Is there anything you can do about this right now, in this very minute? (If so, do it. If not, stop thinking about it. (Example: Are you so worried about that pain, you should google its possible cause? If not, breathe in and out and stop worrying.)

2. Is there any action you can take about this situation right now? (Example: Do you need to text someone to ask forgiveness? Something I have done. Or Do you need to call your manager right now on a Sunday and tell her your thoughts? Something I would not do, so I should stop thinking about what I am going to say to her tomorrow on Monday.)

3. Is there any one you need to communicate with right now about your feelings? (This involves understanding how I think about my feelings and my relationships. This is a llloooonnngggg discussion for the experts, but in short-hand, I must ask myself: Is this feeling anything any one, other than I, myself, can and should do something about? Is this feeling something that I should act on, or do I need to analyze it more, live with it more even if it is painful, and try to find out why I am feeling it? Is this feeling true-True? And if so, who needs to help me with it or share it with me?)

4. Are these feelings productive right now? (And I mean right now. If so, just feel them. Even something that hurts can be very productive. Just like in the body, in the emotions, a pain leads to an awareness leads to a diagnosis leads to a choice leads to an action or inaction leads to a resolution. Don’t think about anything, just feel. Hard in our Western, worshipping-of -one -kind -of -logic kind of world, but again — be a child. Feel and in feeling, find a new emotional intelligence and a wisdom that may be quite a surprise.)

5. What can I create with the feelings I have right now? (And negative feelings can create insight into new directions, while positive feelings can create a whole new way of knowing what it is to be, and to be content, and to be content with being content, and to know that I don’t have to think anything at all to be of value, and to be worthy, and to be enough. This moment, and myself, are enough.)

6. And finally, what would I prefer to be thinking about right now? What can I think about that is happening right now that will make me feel the way I want to feel, right now, and the way I deserve to feel about myself, and others, and the world. Right now.

We have relegated feelings to back burners of thinking, rather than letting them be the matches that light the flame of our creativity in living in this moment. We have given feelings a poor second-place to what we call “logic” and in doing so, our logic has become inflamed with the pus of our overthinking everything that should be excised with the precision of the soul’s surgeon-like release of all that would infect our joy in living.

We have excused our negativity by claiming we need to think about something in order to understand. And we refuse to accept, that most of everything that makes us uniquely human, is in some small or huge way, impossible for us to ever completely understand. Knowledge, to be true, is always flowing forward, and we can never step in the same part of Truth twice. We are, as the sage said, not nearly as afraid of death (absolutely unknowable), as we are afraid of living (over-rated as knowable, and not accepted as wondrously full of mystery and momentary awe).

“Create in me, Dear Self, Oh, God, this moment, a new heart.” This is the only progress, and it is a progression of what seems for a while like regression. As the wisest of the wise said, “you must become as a little child to enter the Kingdom of Heaven”. And the Kingdom of Heaven is nothing more that choosing to live fully, freely, joyfully in the here and now, as all heavenly creations choose to do.

To live fully and freely and faithfully and lovingly and joyfully, is to be “reborn” in each moment. I awake to true life, when I wake to a new moment –“Aha! I was just born. What a discovery! I am alive! How fun! Let me explore. Let me create.”

Sweep out the dust and trash and overflowing “stuff” in the house of your mind. Allow space for moments that are eternal only because they are completely new. New wine will not tolerate an old wineskin, as the wise sage also reminded us, and so, imbibe and drink deeply in this very new wine of this very new minute.

Look. Listen. Smell. Feel. Touch. Taste, eat; for it is all to nourish the very you that is uniquely you.

Stop thinking and question. Let go of all that has no purpose in moving you along the narrow path of this very and only guaranteed moment of time. Do not fear, for your very own holy spirit waits to play with you, as all children of God love play. You were created to create. So, all you need to ask yourself is this:

What do I feel like making and creating in myself and my little corner of this world, right now?

Oh, this feels good, and I created this; and it is very good.

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by Jane Tawel

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by Jane Tawel

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Non-Thoughts by Jane Tawel

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