This morning I stepped on the scale in the bathroom. Not because I really care what it reads, but because it’s there so I like to use it for fun sometimes. Never a dull moment around here.
Once I hopped on and the digital numbers started their frenzied calculating, I realized I had a banana in my hand. I quickly put it on the bathroom counter before my final weight was registered in flashing fashion.
I offer you a moment to contemplate that…
I put down the banana I was at that very time ingesting so I wouldn’t screw up my weight. And I have no issues with my weight, I just wanted the number to be right.
Like, for who? Seriously?
You might be asking yourself, why is this important? Or you might be asking yourself, why am I even reading this?
If you’re asking *me* those questions, I’ll tell you. To the former, it’s not. At all. And to the latter, because you find humans fascinating.
If the questions were rhetorical, I hope your head enjoyed the beckoning silence they invited. Hey, you just meditated! You’re welcome.
I have this genuine curiosity about humans, myself included. Actually, I always have. Well, only recently about myself, but others always.
We’re fascinating. We do weird things. Some we share. Some we don’t.
“The Godhead is never an object of its own knowledge. Just as a knife doesn’t cut itself, fire doesn’t burn itself, light doesn’t illuminate itself. It’s always an endless mystery to itself.Alan Watts
I truly enjoy what I’m doing with tarot and astrology. I’m able to be with people while they’re learning about themselves. There is something about objects, with provoking questions and images and insights, that creates an external canvas with which we’re able to observe, imagine, and explore ourselves and I just freaking love that.
I hold this truth that everyone I astrologize and tarotize with has all the wisdom they are seeking inside of them and I am only there to bear witness as they find it. I’ll even hold the lantern and shout ‘Woo-hoo!’ as we go. I set an intention with my spirit crew at the outset of each reading that I leave as faint a footprint as possible on their destined path. Free will and stuff. It is not my aim to influence or interfere.
I listen and that is something, in my experience, we humans struggle with. Authentic listening is tough. It requires deep breaths. Feeling the words. Opening our heart. Quieting our mind. Pausing to know how the words occupy silence. Sometimes that’s the bulk of what listening entails. The silence part. Sometimes another question will move the words another way.
More often than not, after a good listen, words will wander out with a bit more space in between and measurement and direction. And that’s really where the answers are. In between the words. After them, when there are no words left.
When I meditate I imagine a world with lots of listening hearts feeling all of the stories people have to share. And lots of silence soaking them in. There are so many stories! They don’t need judges or critics or editors! They’re silly and they’re sad and they’re joyous and they’re painful and they’re often left unpeeled and undigested.
Set aside on the counter, because somehow we feel that they’re not right. They don’t deserve a weigh-in. And I wish that weren’t the case.
Just like I’m gonna poop out that banana in a few hours, when we digest and ingest our stories, they can be eliminated in some sense. Absorbed for what they’re worth and passed through.
Something went a bit awry with my metaphor, but I’ve gotta go and I wrote something today and I think it best if I post something imperfect and let my ego mope about it for a while.
It’s just a silly story anyway. Thanks for listening.