Food For Thought

via Notes From The Universe (http://www.tut.com/)

Rushing or resisting.

Seems like everyone I know is always either rushing on to the next thing, or wholeheartedly resisting it--days, weeks, events, places, seasons. Sometimes we are racing for more pleasure; sometimes we are racing for less pain. Sometimes we are resisting both of these, whether consciously or not. It's great to have things to look forward to, but what happens to everything in between? It's great to have goals, dreams and plans, but what happens to the joy of here and now? My friend Jill calls this particular phenomenon "moving the goal post"--telling ourselves real satisfaction, happiness, contentment lies just ahead, if only we can make it to a certain point, and then changing this point (many a time) to a never ending, just out of reach, place of if only, when, then.  It's great to appreciate where you are, always, but what happens when you try to block the natural flow of always changing life? When you cling, refuse to let go, and persist to resist?

Seems like we are always either rushing for change, or resisting it entirely.

It's exhausting, no?

This weekend I'll be camping in beautiful, glorious, heavenly Big Sur with my cousin and her friends and am planning to bring my schmancy camera along to document the adventure. I'll be breathing deeply the fresh mountain-meets-the sea air. I'll be moving my body along winding trails, stretching my limbs from consecutive days spent hunched over at a computer. I'll be going with the flow of Meg and her crew, just happy to be along for the ride.

I'll be celebrating the season I'm in, because soon it will be over, anyway. No rush or resistance will change it one bit.

The time will pass on its own terms, anyway. Even if I want it to move faster; even if I wish it would slow down....it will continue to pass on its own terms, anyway.

Isn't that just a total well...shoot, truth?

Learn to let go. Learn to let it be. That's my assignment for this weekend in my wonderful life.

love and light,

Trish