Tales from a Practical Mystic

I said something to my husband and immediately recognized it as sounding pompous. There was a time that I would have chewed on that for a long while. I would have turned it over in my mind, wondering why I said such a thing. Self-judgment would have set in. I would have wondered what he thought of me. A virtual rat's nest of thought would have been created in my mind, because it is not my intention to sound pompous and so why did I say that, gosh darn it?!

I have come to see, however,...

Just pondering why it is that I don’t feel compelled to do a thing that I’ve been telling myself I should do. I know that I will eventually do it. Will I later regret not having done the thing now?

So I just placed myself at mortality’s edge, and asked myself, if I was dying, if I knew I was going to die tomorrow, what would I be thinking? Would I be happy and croak with no regrets?

And a thought came forward: I wouldn’t wish that I had done that thing, I would...

Space to allow the unfolding.

Space to feel feelings.

Space to come to a decision on one’s own accord, in a space of neutrality.

Neutral space.

Nurturing, open, inviting.

Limitless potential. The offering of space.

Sometimes, I squash the space. Fill it with thoughts. Then, the thoughts influence, call forth, or magnetize, a response from the person with whom I am conversing, or from the situation I am experiencing. 

For example, when my daughter was applying to high...

I loved watching Game of Thrones. When the series ended, I felt sad. What affected me wasn’t as much that the show had ended as it was thoughts about a particular character’s fate. I got teary-eyed thinking about it!

Even when I reminded myself that the story and characters were not real, the emotion was still present. That’s what I found so interesting: my inner experience was affected by what I chose to focus on, whether the object of attention was “real”...

“Stop!”

I keep talking, despite my daughter’s plea.

“Would you stop?!” she begs. 

I persist, rationalizing to myself, I’m the parent, she will benefit by listening to me.

“You’re making me feel sad. You’re making me feel like an idiot!”

Ouch. But I’m on a run, “Well, that’s your doing,” implicitly reminding her that no one can “make” us feel anything.

While the admonishment leaves my lips,...