Soup. I used to think there were rules about making soup. My brain would direct me to each ingredient; so much of this so much of that. I was a tentative cook. Recipes were important, and I'd get nervous about changing anything or trying a new recipe. I'm still not as comfortable in the kitchen as my mother and sisters are. But soup now has no rules. A little of this, a lot of that, and oh my I enjoy my soup more. I have broth cooling in the fridge now, just waiting for me to throw caution to the winds and everything but the sink into my soup pot. It smells delicious.
My life had so many edges and angles previously. And I used so much energy getting from here to there. I realized only recently that I was sometimes still on task for the phone or the doorbell to ring. Managing this building was still an internal memory that kept me a bit on alert, just enough to satisfy some old pattern, but now gratefully gone.
When I choose now to stay in my robe I can relax to my internal clock, meditating spontaneously, napping when I need it. Yet, on a day when I am expecting no one but I am moved to meticulously make my bed, I soon find that the rhythm of my day brings me guests - voila! And Wednesday those guests included a photographer of all things! Doing a favor for our building manager was not a stretch because I was moved by my internal voice to take care of tasks as I see them, rather than structure my life within a schedule of shoulds. What a relief!
We're perfect. System/Wisdom/God lives in each of us. We can hold to structures and rules and use our energy to manage meticulously the edges of our lives. No harm, no foul. We all get to decide. Games do need some rules or there would be no game, but what rules do I still need and which might be released in favor of ease. I still need a calendar and notations for a schedule that involves other people. But I need breath more. And not checking the rulebook instinctively as I used to means unclenching and ease.
Living this way may appear a little nuts. But whose rules are more important than yours for your life and mine for mine? Breathing and allowing, not even asking, but allowing my System to lead me, proves perfect. Trusting myself has always been the goal, whether making soup or exchanging with a client, deciding what gift to buy or whether this is a good day to post to this blog.
Here, today, the sky pink with the rising sun, laundry in the dryer and making a pot of soup I am content. I'm spending the weekend with Anita and celebrating my daughter-in-love's birthday tomorrow (mmmm grandgirl hugs), then flying Sunday night with The Dream Team.
What a lovely recipe. I am grateful.
Until next time,
I am Phyllis, still Becoming
No comments:
Post a Comment