Soul Divers Blog

“It’s a really special occasion, every day I’m alive.”

Our son, Gates, said this over dinner tonight.  He was making a joke about how his babysitter only gave him chocolate milk on really special occasions.  Apparently he wanted milk more often.  What astounded was the effortless way in which a simple, powerful truth tapped me on the shoulder and waved, bringing with it a tsunami of joy.  I’m still catching my breath.

To some it may sound like I’m exaggerating.  I am not.  Maybe it comes with age, maybe with experience.  I don’t know, but life is good.  More accurately, life dazzles.  Sure, there are challenges.  Yes, we are sometimes asked to grow in ways we’d rather not.  But HELLO have we noticed the geese soaring across the fields.  Have we been catching snowflakes on our tongues?  Did we sing in our car today - I mean really SING?

It’s a really special occasion every day you’re alive.

I’m going to toast that truth with a glass of chocolate milk.  Salute, Bonzai, and thank you, Gates.

In his book Letters to a Young Brother, actor/activist Hill Harper defines balance as being:

“…secure enough to be vulnerable, strong enough to be gentle, wise enough to be humble, and powerful enough to serve others.”

I first heard this more than a year ago on Oprah.  I was reminded of it again recently.  And I LOVE it.  I mean I really LOVE IT.  Not as an idea or a thought but as a deeper, fuller, richer way to experience the “sweet spot” of life.  When we are balanced, we are clear and, when we are clear, the eternal light (within all of us) shines through.

I was hooked on drama for a long time.  I believed I had to create things around me to complain about or attack or gossip over, in order to feel better about my imperfect self.  Now I realize that judging myself as flawed kept me from experiencing my divinity.  I know I’m not perfect, but I also know that I am love.  We all are.  And when we are balanced, our true self (love) is expressed.

Out my window, it’s snowing.  Inside Rob makes tea.  Balance is beautiful.

Our three year old daughter, Frances, sat on the potty enumerating her best friends.  Dashiell is my best friend, and Revell is my best friend. These are her teenage cousins.  I pointed out that she had a lot of best friends, each day bringing with it the revelation of another best friend.  Sometimes it’s Daddy, sometimes Mommy.  Often it’s her grandmothers.  The other day our potty was a great friend because it’s warm (unlike the downstairs loo which apparently is not).

As her legs swung about and we both waited patiently, suddenly Frances’ eyes widened and she inhaled her breath, You know who else is my best friend? Who? I asked. MYSELF! she beamed.  Seemingly effortlessly Frances landed on an essential truth: our ability to love one another is directly proportional with our ability to love ourselves. If we don’t love ourselves enough to be our own best friend, then chances are good our life is not.

We are all worth loving.  Even a three year old knows that.

here’s something i scribbled out August 16, 2009 while on vacation in the Long Island Sound.

Went to church this morning with Rob and Gates.  While they were getting dressed, I sat in the living room and looked out over the sea.  It was so calm, and like baby’s skin, beckoned to be touched.  A gossamer glaze, effortlessly embodying the stillness the Buddha touted.  To see our true reflection, he understood the mind must be still.

I notice that my mind can be quite “stormy”.  Lots of bluster blowing confused thoughts about, but the calm -the path home to the peace - begins with awareness and acceptance of the storm.  Denial of bad weather just creates heavier rains, gustier winds and rougher seas.  When we say YES to the storm and open to it, it opens us.  Suddenly our story that it’s too rough or too wild transforms to a deeper truth: it’s too beautiful.  And to love the storm from the peaceful center within is to love life, to love art, to love what is, and has been created.

It also, for me,  puts the  “ahhh” in Hallelujah.

I’m teaching “text” class to the freshmen drama students at the University of the North Carolina School of the Arts.  It occurs to me that some of the exercises we do might be of interest to some of you out there.  Here’s a current favorite: Start your morning by writing down on a piece paper “Today I am going to experience_____________.” You choose how you finish that sentence and then simply go about your day.  I’d love to hear how it goes.

This much I can tell you, some of my students have been blown away by what they’ve experienced.