The walkway shuttles like a river beneath my feet, in an effortless flow.
I stand, I rest – and it rolls me onward.
Sometimes writing is a bit like that, too.
A sentence begins, escorting me to its finish, with the elegant ease of a feather blowing in the wind.
I lose track of time and space and self.
Even an unbeliever might spot the fairy dust on a piece of prose that takes birth in this way.
Other times, I confess, my muse and I have a less agreeable rapport.
Our collaboration, more like the evening before a final term paper — pulling an all-nighter, on a caffeine bender.
Tedious, grinding, edge-of-your-seat.
Without rhythm, or any assurance that the project will grow into maturity.
Life, too, shows up like this.
A wild ride, often exhilarating. Chock full of high-speed chases and hairpin bends. Pivots and potholes.
When life is going our way, we imagine it’s because we’re doing it right.
Stepping over the cracks, putting down our best-laid plans.
Enacting roles without flaw.
But when life turns its face from our favor, we’re the first to take blame.
Trespassing, lead-footed, over our own bruised sensibilities.
With relentless second-guessing.
What did I do wrong?
How can I win my way back into the heart of life’s good graces?
“Life is simple. Everything happens for you, not to you. Nothing comes ahead of its time – and nothing has ever happened that didn’t need to happen”.Byron Katie
The real magic begins the moment we step aside.
And let life do what it does best.
Carry us along for the sheer delight of its exploratory impulse.
That very same unfolding of the Universe, that is happening within us, for us, as us.
“Faith does not need to push the river… The river is flowing. We are in it.”Richard Rohr