A thousand feet

Fourth day on the job. Every day people feign surprise and say "you came back!" Actually, I am really pleased with the job, really. Because I am so pleased with it, a part of me feels that I must not really be working. Or, it's too easy, it can't be real. But it's been the busiest week so they say, and to me it seems like the pace I had at Meals On Wheels, all of the time.

I am still reading Stephen Levine's book, Meetings At The Edge, and loving it all the way.

The combination of reading Levine's phone conversations with people dying or having a loved one die, and being with the families of folks who've recently died, is so enriching. I feel so lucky. I feel lucky that I am allowed to share moments with people who in one way or another have had their hearts broken. How vulnerable we can be. I feel protective of them in a way, yet I also am aware that this is a part of life, and that truly, there are important gestalts we each have in our relationship with death and life.

I watch the dynamics of friends and family. Some are like me, one woman so far, who was helping her deceased aged christian scientist friend get the business aspect of dying taken care of. No skin off her nose, this is just a formality, and she knows her friend is traveling the cosmos happily.

I walk around now looking at people and feeling a tenderness for them. I imagine what they would look like dead, and as Seth (of Jane Roberts' fame) has said, and as the Bhagiva Gita says, we're as dead now as we'll ever be...well, I can literally feel that truth.

How precious life is. How much of it we simply don't live by floating by on assumptive identification with a rote personality, and habits.

Give up habits. Give up your habit of waking up and "knowing" what you'll see when you open your eyes. Really see, and you'll notice there is difference. Every person is different than the moment before, every trail, every tree. Moments shift from one foot to the other and a moment has a thousand feet.