INSTANT TREASURE

   I’ve known for a long time that I can’t immediately have all the things I want, but I also know that I, and all of us, can instantly have, almost at the snap of our fingers, the really important things. Take kindness, for instance. All we have to do is truly want to be kind, and presto, kindness is there inside us like a breeze filling us full of its helpful spirit. Of course, we have to accept it and be willing to work with its powers, but kindness is always there for us, ready, right now, to show its invincible spirit to the world. And patience -- it, too, has all its gentle forces stored inside us, ready to be released to do its soft work on our behalf. We can have patience immediately, instantaneously, as much as we need, always, without end. Of course, we can deny this. We can say other people might have patience and kindness, but not me – and then we’re simply shutting the door on a fortune. It’s like standing beside bags of gold and refusing to see them.       

A REALLY OLD YOUNG GUY

     I am legally 73 years old, but according to an astrophysicist friend of mine, I’ve been around for billions of years. In fact, I’m not just a senior citizen, but a truly ancient guy, as old as the stars. Scientific studies say that my body is composed of approximately 7,000,000,000, 000,000, 000,000,000 atoms, most of which, my friend tells me, came into being when giant stars exploded several billion years ago. Apparently these atoms browsed around the universe for eons before they somehow assembled and settled together in 1941 to produce an arrangement named “Hamilton Salsich”. Who knows -- some of my atoms might have made up parts of prehistoric mountains, or the kidney of king, or a wee shrew’s eyes, before they luckily linked up to bring a baby to life in St. Louis 73 years ago. What’s equally amazing is that some studies suggest that the 37 trillion cells in my body are replaced with brand new ones about every ten years, which means, unless I’m missing something, that my body is now only about 10 years old. If I understand this correctly, I’ve been around for billions of years, but I’m still just a kid. I’m ancient, but still – literally – in the springtime of life. (Does this mean I don’t deserve senior rates at the movies??)         

EVERYDAY MAJESTY

     The BBC television series “Wolf Hall”, though well-acted, portrays a meager kind of majesty compared to what I’m presented with each day. Delycia and I live in a fairly average New England village, but the splendor we see hour by hour puts King Henry’s majesty to shame. His is a false majesty, made of fabrication and pretentiousness, whereas the majesty of Mystic is made of legitimate miracles. Just now a slight rain is falling with more real dignity than the king and his stooges could ever summon up, and birds are floating around our feeders with the kind of authentic magnificence that makes flashy courtly formalities seem frivolous and pointless. Even this afternoon’s damp, gray sky has a brilliance that, for me, totally trivializes the regal robes of Henry’s suave society. And just now a bird somewhere out in the soggy weather sang a song that seemed way more majestic than the pompous sentences I heard spoken on the episodes of “Wolf Hall”. I’ll take a backyard in simple, stately Mystic over an ostentatious king and his court any day.      

YEAH, NO

     It’s strangely inspiring to me to hear people say “yeah, no” so often these days, as in “Yeah, no, I think it’s a great idea.” I guess it reminds me, in a funny way, of the fundamental truth that life is made  of opposites. Yeah, it’s superb, but no, it can also be dismal. Yeah, it’s a blessing, but no, it’s sometimes a catastrophe. Yeah, there’s May’s brightness, but no, there’s December’s blizzards. To me, it speaks of the overall fairness of life, its evenhandedness, its insistence on a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Life’s like a dance: yeah, a sway to the left, and then no, a swing to the right; yeah, a twirl, then no, a swirl. It’s this secret, ever-present balance in all things that lets the universe surge up and down, right and left, with perfect poise. My task is to see and appreciate this poise, this overall constancy, this gift of the general evenness of all of life. Yeah, no, there’s darkness, but also lots of light.      

NO PROBLEM

      I sometimes think I could make good use of the currently popular phrase “no problem”. I’ve had countless problems in my life, problems that seemed to involve all sorts of material difficulties, but whenever I carefully look back at them, it’s clear that the “problem” part of them actually existed only in my thoughts. Yes, I’ve experienced many unforeseen situations that I didn’t understand and hoped could be altered, but this, in itself, does not mean they were problems. A problem, by definition, is a situation that a person believes needs to be fought and overcome, and that belief, of course, comes solely from the person’s thoughts. If I decide that a situation is my enemy and needs to be defeated, my decision creates the “problem”. So, in a sense, I could always say “no problem”, because there never are problems “out there” – just situations that need to be accepted, examined, and somehow worked with. By waging war against situations in my life, I create problems; by welcoming all situations, including so-called “bad” ones, I create open space for myself, and a chance to settle down and let the situations teach me their valuable lessons.           

GETTING OUT OF PRISON

      I got to thinking today about how refreshing it is to free oneself from the prison of resentment. I’m not sure why, but I was remembering an incident from many years ago when, having felt injured by someone’s remarks and having enclosed myself in bitter resentment for awhile, I was suddenly able to free myself from it. I’m not sure why or how, but I unexpectedly broke down the walls of my own anger and, in my heart, completely forgave the person. I remember it so well, the feeling of unqualified freedom that came over me. I was released from the prison of my own resentment. I was free to accept and even be at ease with the remarks that had so hurt me. I saw the remarks as if from a great distance, and they seemed as harmless as birds flying far away.  

     And now it has me wondering: Could I perhaps forgive other so-called harmful things, even things like serious illness, or tragedy? If these happen, could I forgive them, in a sense, and thus rise up out of the prison of anger and bitterness? Would this help me to see illness and tragedy as simply events in my life, events with which I can be comfortable instead of angry, events that could release me into the wisdom of acceptance instead of imprisoning me in the foolishness of acrimony?   

SITTING ON THE PATIO IN EARLY SPRING

He sat outside in sunshine and a breeze

that seemed to blow from far-off southern shores.

He felt the kind of feeling that can ease

you into peace and through the open doors

of paradise. Some birds began a song

that said serenity was here and now,

and he believed it. His life felt strong

but also soft. He said a quiet “Wow!”

THIS GRATUITOUS LIFE

On a golden day like this, a day given to me free-of-charge, I wonder if I will ever be grateful enough for this seemingly gratuitous gift of life. What did I do to earn or deserve a day like this? How did I come to merit so many hours of daffodils and smiles and sunshine and white clouds like ships sailing above? The gifts this day gave me seemed almost indiscriminate, and surely excessive, as if some silent power placed rewards all around me for no obvious reason. I’m a little bewildered by it, as I have been on most of the days of my life.