Waiting For a Holy Sign

The quote from the movie One that impacted me the most deeply was spoken by Robert Thurman. He said that we are all IN Nirvana… we’re just really bad at enjoying it. He didn’t even say, “we’re not very good at enjoying it,” he flat out said we’re really BAD at enjoying it. This almost knocked the wind out of me, because it rang SO TRUE.

If left to my own devices, I’d just spend the day in a wretched crumple of salty sobbery. Oh, fiddle, I guess I’m being dramatic, since left to my own devices, I AM doing what I love most~ blogging. I guess what I mean is that it is taking some self discipline not to crumple into a quivering puddle of fear. I may still be standing, but not without an indulgent helping of self pity. I know, I know, it’s such a waste of time, life, energy~ however you want to classify deluded concepts and false investments.

Mykael got the official letter yesterday that he failed his nursing exam …again. What does this mean? Intrinsically, nothing. But if I had to assign it meaning, I’d say that it means that I’m done paying our exorbitant rent and we must let go of our beloved home base and go god knows where and do god knows what. Probably separately. Not that we’re breaking up… I’m sorry. This is probably boring. My fearful mind on loud speaker. Zzzzzz. What I should really be doing right now is having a good cry and then stepping back onto the page cleansed and ready to face my God-given gift of using language to shape reality with a renewed sense of devotional responsibility. But here I am… Seated on a hard wooden bench in the heart of Nirvana, fingers eagerly outstretched on the bouncy, silver keys of my laptop, so I’m just gonna do the next best thing. Write and cry, cry and write, write and write and cry… Strictly as an ecstatic expression of Nirvana, of course…

God? Please send me an explicit sign that you got my back right now. I know, I know, that’s greedy… You give me nothing BUT blessings and signs. But I’d love to just have a nice racy one right now. One that I could share with all of my readers, and they’d be as superlatively stunned as I am, and unwaveringly certain of the humbling benevolence with which Life holds us all. Why is it so hard to believe that life is kind? WHY??? I refuse to buy into this unexamined pathetic strain of fear any more.

Mykael was snuggling me to sleep last night… I was in that sweet nether world infused with blissful oblivion, when THUD! He dropped his stone carving right on my face! My mouth, to be precise. Ouch. It hit my front tooth and my upper lip, which is still mildly swollen this morning. I was so stunned, I began to cry like a child, which felt embarrassing, but I was in such a vulnerable state, that I didn’t have a chance to edit my response. Somehow this incident feels symbolic. He is ultimately more enamored with his carvings than he is with me, (it seems…) and there he was, turning it over and over, stroking it with his adoring gaze in the flickering candle light, when his hands slipped. Woops! Oh well, it’s only Athena’s face.

(I’m still waiting for my sign of your incessant, loving embrace around my life… We’re ready any time, right ladies and gents?) Sometimes it blows to be partners with an artist. He reveres his creations with an obsessive infatuation, which can feel very exclusive to me. (the equivalent would be me reading and rereading my blogs all day long) It reminds me of this children’s book I used to own when I was a kid. It was called Narcissus, and it was about this gorgeous, chestnut horse who was so obsessed with his own beauty that he never made friends with any of the other horses in his pasture. He never learned to play or to love, because he was too busy fixating on the perfection of his physical appearance. Then one fateful day, he was gazing into a still pond at his enchanting reflection when two foals frolicked by and in a flurry of galloping and snorts, they accidentally bumped into Narcissus and knocked him into the pond. Narcissus was bereft when he realized he was soaking wet and covered in unsightly pond scum. But, low and behold, something did free up in him as a result and he learned to play and let go of his self-referential fixation.

No, I suppose Mykael is not Narcissus. If anyone, it is me… sitting here writing up a storm of perpetual self indulgence. In Nirvana, no less. My writing is boring me to tears this morning. Dare I publish this? Sure, why not. I will publish it to show you that even the most BRILLIANT writers have bad days. But you know what? We keep stepping up to the plate, regardless. Because writers write. And that’s all. And you know what else? I shall remain ever vigilant in my commitment to letting go. There is nothing to fear. And everything to let go of. I release yesterday and earlier this morning, and later this afternoon. I request ALL OF ME, here and now, front and center. Athena, listen, Sweetie, Life REALLY does ALWAYS have your best interest in mind. Always.

I still remember like ten years ago, when I was getting coaching from Jerry and he asked me, “What if your only job is to open your heart?” Hearing this tickled me, because at the time, I heard this like I was getting let of the hook from the rest of this real world junk. But now, ten years later, it sounds like Mission-Nearly-Impossible. Can I just open my heart, right here, right now, on cue? And if I COULD, would that be “enough”? Or would it just lead me to another hurdle, like in that children’s book, “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie”… If you give a mouse a cookie, then he’ll want a glass of milk, then he’ll get sleepy and ask for a nap in your comfy bed, but first he’ll challenge you to a pillow fight… etc. If Athena opens her heart… Then she’ll be called to volunteer at the homeless shelter and then someone will ask her to teach them some yoga and then she’ll start teaching yoga to the homeless and then she’ll be called to open an international yoga center for homeless folks… (Athena wishes that if she opened her heart, she’d be called to keep writing, and eventually become a minister…)

I’m yours, God. Use me as you see fit. Do I really mean that? I think so… I’m just afraid that God will make me do something really boring. But why would a God who loves me more than any limping human ever possibly could, condemn me like that? It just doesn’t make sense. Humans condemn, not that which is pure, perfect, universal love and unabashed auspiciousness…

I’m still waiting for my sign… How will I know when it arrives? Because I will feel a surge of awe that nourishes my mind and sweeps my heart with a fresh breeze of peace. Peace. I need not wait to feel peace. Peace has already arrived. But still, I wait for my beneficent sign…

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. contoveros
    May 19, 2010 @ 20:27:34

    A minister?

    I could dig it!

    I took a test, and one of the types of work they said I could be suited for was to be a minister.

    It would have to be one where I could curse and drink red wine, though. Call me a “holy fool,” if you like.

    Here’s the site:



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