Accept The Gift [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Years ago Tom gave me a bit of career-advice that I’m still trying to take: “Unlike most people,” he ominously said, “your path will never be about plugging into life. Rather, you must find how life can best plug into you.”

Joyce, a healer and mystic, got that look in her eyes, and told me that I was never going to pursue a single profession. Mine-to-do was to see into hearts; mine was to guide people to their truths.

These days, their words ring loudly in my ears. In the past 24 weeks, since the start-up collapsed, I’ve applied to over 100 positions. Each morning I open my email and find the latest thanks-but-no-thanks. And, each morning I ask myself the same question: How do I – this time – once again – at this stage in my life – find how life might plug into me? I’ve received plenty of ideas-for-jobs and more than a heaping spoonful of advice. “Seeing into hearts” and “Guiding people to their truths” is not stellar resume fodder, even when it includes owning businesses and fixing businesses and coaching people all over the world and painting paintings and directing plays and repairing broken theatre companies. Those “ways” feel finished.

I’m working very hard to find ways to plug into life.

It was a great relief to unplug from the fruitless pursuit for a few days. To gather with my family, to say good-bye to my dad, to eat and drink and play at a farmhouse that will forever represent the time and place an era ended and a new age began. Sitting on the porch in the morning sun I felt spacious for the first time in many months. Standing in the yard watching the sunset, I was quiet inside. Rooted. Easy.

I hadn’t realized how compressed I’d become. How air-less. The farmhouse served as a gift from my father: take a deep breath. Nothing more. Nothing less. This life is quickly passing. Relax. It will find you.

I stepped into the morning sun and practiced my tai-chi. These words from the Buddha came to mind: “Joyful participation with the sorrows of the world,” The accent is on the word “joyful.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about FARM SUNSET

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Sit On The Fence [on KS Friday]

We have a small compost pile behind the garage that we call The Golden Corral. The squirrels line up like seniors at the buffet and scurry away with the good bits before they turn into soil.

When John texted a photo of the opossum on the fence, we ran outside to take a look. He – we named him Peter – was in no hurry to run away and hide. He was perfectly content to sit on the fence and gladly participated in our photo shoot. I suspect the word is out about The Golden Corral.

Our neighborhood has always been a lively haven for critters. Red fox and raccoons, skunks and rabbits, squirrels and hawks and chipmunks. In the summer months we sit out back and watch the animal escapades. We feel honored when the owl appears. We laugh when the turkey lands on our roof. The crows alert us to the comings-and-goings of predators.

Peter is a new addition. We’ve seen him or his kin down the street at Pam’s place. She scatters birdseed at the base of her tree and the furry nocturnal fraternity gathers there after the bars shut down. They stare us down when we come home late at night, their eyes red in our headlights.

Possums symbolize peaceful transitions, conflict avoidance, and cooperative effort. “We could use more of that in the world,” Kerri said. They also represent the development of insight and uncovering hidden truths. After the events of the past few years, surfacing a few hidden truths would be welcome. I could use an insight or two.

Peter posed. He definitely wanted us to photograph his good side. “He’s really beautiful,” Kerri said, snapping pictures.

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read Kerri’s blog post about PETER POSSUM

nurture me/released from the heart © 1995 kerri sherwood