Grumbling

It takes faith to believe in tomorrow. But I think it takes more faith to believe that I am where I’m meant to be in my life right now

It’s easy to have hopes and dreams for our future, to have plans. We all need those. They help direct our path. And having things to look forward to, even the little things, makes life fun.

But having faith that on some far-off day our lives are going to be great and better – believing in tomorrow – doesn’t take nearly as much spiritual discipline as it does to believe in today.

Sometimes I really don’t like some of the things I have to do or that are going on in my life. I tend to weigh myself down with mumbling and grumbling, balking, digging my heels in, obsessing, dreading, ….and generally making things worse than they are. It’s not enough that I have to go through, endure, or do what I must. I make the job three times as hard with my attitude.

Melody Beattie, Faith

Both, and…

The first noble truth says simply that it’s part of being human to feel discomfort. We don’t even have to call it suffering anymore; we don’t even have to call it discomfort. It’s simply coming to know the fieriness of fire, the wildness of wind, the turbulence of water, the upheaval of earth, as well as the warmth of fire, the coolness and smoothness of water, the gentleness of the breezes, and the goodness, solidness, and dependability of the earth. Nothing in its essence is one way or the other. The first noble truth also recognizes that we change like the weather, we ebb and flow like the tides, we wax and wane like the moon. We do that and there’s no reason to resist it

Pema Chodron, Awakening Loving-Kindness

My work

Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

Mary Oliver, Messenger [extract]