Tales from a Practical Mystic

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Freedom

When our county issued a mandate requiring residents to do something with which I did not agree, I was triggered. A rebellious voice inside retorted, "Don't tell me what to do!"

Right away, I could see that the voice was coming from a place inside that felt unheard and unacknowledged. What about me? it asked. Don't I get a say in this?

As I sat longer with the feelings, it became clear that I was playing victim. "Don't tell me what to do," sounds like something I would say to my sister when...

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Truth or Drama?

In the absence of information, the mind's inclination is to fill in the blanks, to create a story. Have you ever found it challenging to accept not knowing?

One afternoon, I casually opened my son's report card, expecting nothing unusual. To my surprise, a teacher's comment threw me for a loop.

I immediately sent a note to the teacher requesting a conversation to understand what the comment meant and then let the matter go... until I got into conversation about it with my husband. Talking...

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The Gift of Grayness

In the grayness, there is a richness. Colors deepen. 

A magnolia tree reached out to me this morning. Though, not only the tree. It was as if Grace was reaching through the tree and offering me an embrace. I accepted. 

The embrace was warm and inviting. Whole and nurturing. Its purity stopped me in my tracks. How could it be so gentle and yet so overwhelming? Tears welled in my eyes and an unnamable emotion surfaced as I melted into the otherworldliness of the...

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The Gift in Grief

I realized that I was using my son.
I was using him to feel good about myself.

As he became a teenager, a feeling crept in. I ignored it until I could no longer.  What was this feeling?

In a word, grief. I was grieving the loss of my little boy. Where did he go, that bundle of sunshine that lit me up with a level of loving energy so huge that it could hardly be contained in his little body?

Over the years, when I returned home after being out of town, my son would often greet me with an...

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You've been spared

grace perspective Jan 20, 2020

From the annals of not getting what I want…

I was ready to make a left-hand turn into the school driveway. Upon initiating the turn, however, I stopped quickly when I saw a school administrator and another person standing smack in the middle of the entrance, blocking my path. “Way to block the driveway,” I muttered. (There’s something about being behind the wheel of a car that brings forth a sense of entitlement.)

By the time the two men cleared...

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There is what we do and what we think about what we do

choice freedom perspective Sep 12, 2019

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,...

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Love more

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...

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Keeping it real

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”...

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You go first

I asked my son to “tell me about class today,” and he immediately discerned that his teacher must have called me. 

“What did she say?”
 “Just tell me about class,” I responded.
“What did she say?” he repeated.
“I just want you to tell me about class.”
“Tell me what she said, first.”
“I’m asking YOU to tell me about class,” I reasserted. 

And on we went, in this circular pattern, each of us...

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