Straw Dogs Howl

Before going to sleep last night, I decided to take my 'kids' out for an adventure today. I planned on actively paying attention to their experiences, letting them take the lead and provide the feedback. All night long I kept awakening, sensing an inner excitement, like they couldn't wait to go on their field trip.

Amidst this reveling, I couldn't help also feeling some sadness: how much of life have I missed by living it mostly through only one porthole? How much has been lost and never will be recovered? Tons, tons, endless tons; immeasurable, I think. That which has not been caught, held, seen (and so often judged), has sailed by unnoticed, undiscovered, and unappreciated. What heavy sorrow this brings to my heart. In the morning I awaken to both the happiness of anticipation and the heaviness of regret.

At dawn the 'kids' start jumping on the bed. 'Go back to sleep!' I say. But they either don't hear or don't choose to respond. After almost a lifetime of sleeping, they are ready to go. I promise that I won't forget them, but that I need a bit more sleep so that we can have the energy to go do whatever they want to do. Upon this promise, they let me fall back asleep.

I awaken, a couple of hours later, with my body wildly aglow. My skin: undulating rippling on my bones; my muscles: interconnecting with the arteries the nerves the molecules the oxygen the blood the Life Force. My tongue: feeling my tongue, sensing how it fills my mouth. Who knew that our tongues were so huge? How could I not know that?

I stretch my entire body, feeling the movement of one body part flowing into and expanding upon the next, a cat turning itself almost inside out in luxuriousness. My voice calls out a yowl into the wild.

I bask, and bask.

It's 10 a.m., time to get up and continue this glorious day. But first, I need to read my verse.
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Verse 5

Heaven and Earth are impartial;
they treat all of creation as straw dogs.
The Master doesn't take sides;
she treats everyone like a straw dog.

The space between Heaven and Earth is like a bellows;
it is empty, yet has not lost its power.
The more it is used, the more it produces;
the more you talk of it, the less you comprehend.
It is better not to speak of things you do not understand.
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Huh. I don't know what a straw dog is. What is it? I hear a small voice; it sounds like it's coming from a pinky finger: "oh, don't worry about that; it just all about taking nothing personally, that we're treated all the same. We don't care; let's just go play!"

Next on the agenda is taking a shower. When I stepped out afterwards, I remembered to again check in with my body. The response: 'You were asleep all during the shower!' A little stunned, I realized that during my entire time under the water I hadn't for one second been aware of its silky lusciousness upon my skin. I was thinking thinking thinking. How soon I revert to my comfortable patterns.

I have my list of things to do today, in preparation for a trip to Southern California that we are taking tomorrow. I remember the promise to play, but I set it aside to just bask in the continued tingly warmth of my body. The tasks get done. There is satisfaction in that completion; I am smiling, feeling good. I don't want to have to do any more work today. I don't want to have to play. I hate playing. Playing is boring. I don't know how to do it. I don't want to learn how to do it. The giggling laughing children are now starting to annoy me.

I want to go away from my body. I want to reside back in my head. I have a stomach ache. I want to go back to reading my verses and writing more pointed responses to what they have to say, and get away from this body-stuff. I don't know why this shift is happening. I'm getting into a stinking rotten mood. I just want to get away from all of this. I want to scream.

The verse says: the more you talk of it, the less you comprehend. It is better not to speak of things you do not understand.

Fine! I'll stop talking.