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Christmas Eve Tonight of all nights I appreciate silence. Though I suspect much of the Christmas story and message is mythical, there seems to be a tiny kernel of truth in it. What it is I'm not sure. If we could explain it, then the universe is in a lot of trouble, I suspect, if its wisdom can be comprehended by the bipeds currently scurrying around a minor planet on the edge of a nondescript galaxy. No, I'm not putting us down. We're just not finished yet, it seems. Nothing wrong with acknowledging that. Christmas. What is it, really? A dear friend implies it's all about gift. Gift is all about relationships. I give to you, you give to me. Maybe more than that. We receive from the universe. Do we give to the universe? What is the universe other than a bunch of us all connected? Us, meaning you, me, rocks, mountains, planets, crickets, elderberry bushes, the whole nine yards. I look closely at gift. What does that mean? It gets fuzzy the closer I get to it. Gift is…acknowledgement of the basic goodness of life? Maybe? I can't generalize that at a superficial level. I don't live in Iraq. Or Darfur. I dare not speak of the inherent goodness of life to my brothers and sisters who are stuck in a hell not of their choosing. So coming back then to silence. Mystery. Gift. Love. Acceptance. What is this thing that tugs at my heart and yearns for audience? I don't know. A child. A Child. Every child. Those who are young, and those who live in old and worn out bodies. Those who wait for their first appearance, those who have traveled the human path and have returned to the spirit world. The I AM that we ascribe to God? Perhaps that's what I hear in the silence. The voice of "God", spoken from the heart of every child, human and otherwise, throughout the universe, singing the song of "I AM." Dancing the dance. Trying to make eye contact with each of us. I'm very grateful for the gift of presence that some dear friends have given. You know who you are. I ... [View Full Comment] Christmas Eve Tonight of all nights I appreciate silence. Though I suspect much of the Christmas story and message is mythical, there seems to be a tiny kernel of truth in it. What it is I'm not sure. If we could explain it, then the universe is in a lot of trouble, I suspect, if its wisdom can be comprehended by the bipeds currently scurrying around a minor planet on the edge of a nondescript galaxy. No, I'm not putting us down. We're just not finished yet, it seems. Nothing wrong with acknowledging that. Christmas. What is it, really? A dear friend implies it's all about gift. Gift is all about relationships. I give to you, you give to me. Maybe more than that. We receive from the universe. Do we give to the universe? What is the universe other than a bunch of us all connected? Us, meaning you, me, rocks, mountains, planets, crickets, elderberry bushes, the whole nine yards. I look closely at gift. What does that mean? It gets fuzzy the closer I get to it. Gift is…acknowledgement of the basic goodness of life? Maybe? I can't generalize that at a superficial level. I don't live in Iraq. Or Darfur. I dare not speak of the inherent goodness of life to my brothers and sisters who are stuck in a hell not of their choosing. So coming back then to silence. Mystery. Gift. Love. Acceptance. What is this thing that tugs at my heart and yearns for audience? I don't know. A child. A Child. Every child. Those who are young, and those who live in old and worn out bodies. Those who wait for their first appearance, those who have traveled the human path and have returned to the spirit world. The I AM that we ascribe to God? Perhaps that's what I hear in the silence. The voice of "God", spoken from the heart of every child, human and otherwise, throughout the universe, singing the song of "I AM." Dancing the dance. Trying to make eye contact with each of us. I'm very grateful for the gift of presence that some dear friends have given. You know who you are. I look forward to that gift of presence from those of you I haven't met yet. You know who you are, too, even if I don't. I love the mirror dance of I AM/YOU ARE. Goodnight, now. May silence find you and embrace you. May mystery's song lure you onto strange and wonderful paths and dance with you.[Hide Full Comment]

This observation resonates with my life journey. As I become more able to identify with the "oneness", so to speak, I find that my physical life becomes more satisfying, even in its difficulties. Interestingly enough, it was the physical life that I was trying to bypass, when, as it turns out, the more "I" identify with "oneness", the more rewarding is my own physical life, in addition to the incredible journey into that which cannot be described with words (though I certainly try...)

Thank you for your words. It always warms my heart to hear from another who is aware of "secret gardens."

Few people know me because I'm a happy hermit. I do my best work, my art and my writing, in solitude. And yet...I know we are communal creatures, and that is where our health and joy are ultimately nurtured. Over time, as my desire for solitude grew, I imagined being given a piece of land to work in the middle of a forest. I call it my secret garden, where I am free to build, to grow, to write, to follow the urgings of my soul. If someone happens by, I'll welcome them and offer them whatever they need for sustenance. My secret garden sustains me, but is not mine alone; it belongs to the universe itself, and we all belong to each other. In this place I have learned to care, first of all, for myself, in the freedom to sing whatever song I choose to create with neither judgment nor applause to deal with. As I have grown in that knowledge, I have learned to recognize that spirit in others if they happened to find their own path meandering over to my garden. I'm guessing we all have a secret garden somewhere in our souls. Perhaps we can harvest and share the seeds from the plants we grow.