Recently a mosquito netting tent came into my life, providing an island that only a few mosquitoes have managed to penetrate. Come with me out into the dawning day, to the tent and promise of communion with loving mystery.
This wonderful environment allows me to sit unmolested with my friend the morning which brings gradually brightening form, bird sounds, movement and welcomed awe of the beauty. I love being outside, alone in the dark, away from the walls of society. The morning is my body, blood, senses. So I chose to put this tent out in the yard for sitting, singing and writing to the world I love. …rich and wonderful. I stop and the beauty expands and contracts with me in it.
In the tent (with no mosquitoes) surrounded by I quiet to watch and listen. No need to make anything happen. Walking meditatively, breathing harmony, approaching In the dark with my headlamp lighting the way, I bent to unzip the door, joyful with a feel of the day and what it was becoming.
But there was something wrong. The unzipping was much more difficult than it should have been and I spilled my coffee, feeling hurried and irritated. Pulling the zipper from the bottom up was complicated because the little metal stake holding the bottom of the tent— so I could unzip one-handed— wasn’t there.
I felt my stomach tighten and sense of hurry beginning. Breathing acceptance and releasing I slowed, closed my eyes and opening them looked more carefully. What could have happened to that little metal stake?
It took some effort to drive it six inches into the ground, so it had to be right there at the zipper, but no, it was not there. Reaching down to feel if it was pushed under the dirt, there was no metal stake.
Taking a step back to get a different perspective, still focused on my breath, accepting that this entire morning was an unfolding of love, it was apparent the tent had moved. It had moved at least two feet judging by the space between the tent and the bushes. There had been a generous path between the tent and the bushes. Now there was very little walking space. What had happened? Someone had to do this intentionally.
Understanding that the tent had moved, I shone my light two feet back, along the side of the tent, and there was the metal stake that should have been holding the tent wall.
Here in the unfolding beauty of the morning, looking at the physical world coming alive in the dawn, I was no longer hearing the birds or in love with the emerging light. I was violated. Someone had moved the tent!!!
Immediately my thinking and feeling and heartbeat sped up. I was swept up into past experiences of inconvenience and disrespect. THAT’s why I spilled my coffee!! Someone….it had to Clare my wife, had moved the damn tent. WTF?!
My reaction was telling: I blamed Clare, the only person who could have moved the tent. I felt resentment, anger now. I didn’t hear the birds, feel the breeze, anticipate beauty. The sweet Clare became the enemy.
In anger I began interrogating her in my mind, really more complaining about not being loved by her and being overworked and taken advantage of and how could she!!!?
I stalked around the tent searching for other things that were screwed up, shining my headlamp around the sides of the tent, looking for bent poles or torn fabric and realized I was very angry over something I didn’t understand, and that I was violating my own intention to be in love, especially with Clare.
At that moment Life jumped up and sprang into my eyes and hating heart. There, on the ground near the tent, was piled up a cut up oak limb. I was startled at first beginning to wonder how in the world she had cut up such a large—-ten-inch diameter—limb. And then in morning dawn I understood.
This dead limb had been hanging directly over the tent, threatening to fall onto the tent. She and I had spoken of it, and now it was clear. She had orchestrated getting the limb down off the tree safely, meaning I didn’t climb a ladder with a chainsaw.
The tree trimmer had moved the tent. Clare had taken care of me and this tent. Smiling into my disappointment at my anger, I returned to my breath for a few cycles of recognizing the infinite ability of life to keep making love out of itself. In two minutes I had manifested peace, appreciation, confusion, irritation, blaming, anger, resentment, and then the opportunity to recognize it was all made up. The meaning was mine alone.
The sound of the birds returned and was increasing. Stopping to accept, I laughed and told my younger, angered self “She loves us, and nothing is wrong. We can let go of the blame and hurt. It’s all love taking form.”
This expanding Life includes all of us, and increasingly my chosen role is to not choose but to simply observe through eyes and ears.
Seven decades of using choice and awareness have become a basis for experiencing in a way that requires courage and responds with adventure and rewarding love. By responding with trust and confidence in Life’s wisdom as it is appearing is the task.
In one unfolding experience, I learned more deeply that all this world is love becoming me in this moment, and every thought matters. Every feeling is guidance.
This post was previously published on www.thefatherconnection.com and is republished here with permission from the author.