Meditation journey

Cherished reader,
I want to share with you a bit about my brief experiences meditating (10 mins a day, probably 6 days/week for the past few weeks). See, I do mean brief! Short in time, and short in experience of practice. I wish to meditate every day, but some are so hectic that it's late in the evening when I realize I didn't have that quiet time. I don't force this time on myself when I am too tired, but leave it for the next day. This is something my soul has been yearning for, like a homing device that connects me to an essential self like a tether.

I may have mentioned that my little meditation ritual is to ask to come into God's presence, and then I try to wait. And be calm. And not think. However, every time there are many things to think of, and they course through my head in a rapid, jumbled succession. That's the "monkey mind" for you. Tonight, I caught myself several times thinking of what I would write about here! Though it may be quite worthwhile, planning a blog post is not the same as meditation!

My friend Karen has been urging me strongly to meditate for a long time now, and she's of course very happy I finally started. (Did I ever tell you she is an Enneagram Type 8, the leader/boss?) She usually does have good ideas for me, though I refused her latest book suggestion. Her word of advice on meditating was not to constantly judge my experiences or think, "I'm not making progress" or "I'm not doing it right"; rather, just to have these experiences. But how can I not judge? It's the most human thing to do. How else do we know where we are, and where we've been?

What is amazing is when the meditation goes to a deeper place than I usually inhabit. One early time, I was visited by our most wonderful dog, Sandy. She came right up by my right leg, just exactly her old self, wagging her tail with her trademark grin, and that doggy smell, with the scars of the spider bites on her back still, and I could sense her there very strongly. Her presence was so loving that I started crying, and that is how that meditation concluded. This is not something I consciously invoked, because I have remembered it several times since, and recalling it is not the same as her actual presence there with me in my meditative state. (Sandy died a few summers ago, of old age.) Austin says she was the best dog ever, and she is.

Tonight, I wondered what it would be like to be in God's presence. Then I began sensing a reunion of sorts. I was in someone's arms, crying inconsolably. However, my meditative self was observing from a distance and was not caught up in the raw emotion. Thank God! I saw that God was hugging and rocking me with a full-bodied, matronly form that was large and soft, and smelled of cigarette smoke. Yes, it was Mom! She was comforting me, or some iteration of me. Mom may have died, but she has never left. She would never abandon her children.

I am reading a little book that is collected from lectures and writings of Alan Watts called "Myth and Religion." He's one of my podcast "favorites," a British philosopher, Episcopalian priest, and scholar of Eastern religions who died in 1973 or so at around the age of 57. He had moved to the USA and taught at Harvard before moving to California. Reading him is making me still less fettered to any particular belief system. It feels strange, to be so unmoored. "What do I believe?" you ask. I know less and less any answer to that question. I do know I am tired of demagogues, those who "know" what they believe, and those who would label. I shake myself free of any such associations. Watts, by the way, is relentlessly critical of the church and how it seems to have led the opposite way of Christ's example. It's all about what you believe (are you in the Christian "club" or out of it?), and moral judgment, rather than caring for your fellow human being as an equal. Did Christ exact a creed from his own apostles before letting them follow him?

Some people find the greatest comfort in thinking that they know exactly what is true. They stand on the authority of the Bible, or some other thing, and proclaim it infallible and above human questioning. I find that avenue to be a trap that prevents me from seeking and growing. In the end, there is so much more that I do not know than what I do know. As Watts proclaims, he is no guru, and his most fervent wish is for all his "followers" to find their own ways and have no further need of his advice! Every authority we have here on earth is a fellow human being, just like you and me. Therefore (again Watts), no one has any authority that we have not given to them. You choose your own authority figures, who you will trust or obey or believe.

I also wanted to tell you that Andrew and I ran a 5K at Sea World on Saturday and both took first in our division, woo-hoo! Now, Andrew came in 6th in the race overall, whereas I was about 101 of 212 participants, but still won my division of women ages 41-50 (of whom there were a total of 10). This was a fabulous opportunity; the entry fee went entirely to their conservation fund, with free parking and admission to the park all day long. We stayed for the fright-fest which got rolling at 6 pm -- my legs were so tired after walking the whole park all day long! Andrew was the trouper and wanted to stay for the Frightful freaky forest (Frightmare? It used to be the Haunted Forest), which would have been a whole lot more scary if it had been dark.

Now for the cheater on the 5K: this was designed to be quite the recreational (vs. competitive) race. Why? Sea World had a variety of animals on display throughout the race route. Most sensible people pulled over to watch and enjoy all these creatures! Two boa constrictors, owls, penguins, Beluga whales vocalizing, even a sea lion on the back of a cart! However, Andrew and I raced right on past it all, with our eyes on the prize.

The last 5K I did was in April and I have not run since (I went out about 3 times before this race just to make sure I still knew how). I have been doing the elliptical and bike and weights at Anytime Fitness regularly, which is what pulled me through. So I was totally pumped about that success. I think my time was nearly the same as in April, when I came in 7th in my division at a SAWS run!

Subtle is the Lord

Part of the homework my spiritual guide assigned me this past month was to reflect on my image of God. (The other part was to start thinking about spending 10 minutes a day in meditation.)
Aack! Maybe this is how spiritual guides separate the wheat from the chaff, or something -- weed out the faint-hearted and hold on to the true believers, or criminally insane (a fine line there). Not sure which category I'm in!

Describing God has proven incredibly difficult for me to do. Perhaps it is because "my" image of God (not to be confused with the actual Lord, as such) has been changing, evolving, becoming something yet to be defined. Maybe, never to be defined with any precision. I think I prefer God to be truly mystical and beyond the reach of human comprehension, or perhaps I just realize my limitations here.

After contemplating the state of my confusion for the past several weeks, I think I am ready to write about it.

First, I have a bone to pick with God. (Where did that expression come from?) I shared with Karen how hurt and angry I feel at God for my Dad's situation. Dad's situation is symbolic of the suffering everyone encounters in life. If God were all-powerful, S/He would not want his creation to suffer the way we do, every day. The suffering of my Dad, and my family by extension, is minimal compared to the daily brutalities endured by people in other parts of the world, who are starving to death alongside their children, dying of preventable diseases, homeless and traumatized by violence, illiterate, poor ... That is the real story. My Dad's struggle with cancer is a microcosm of the enormous suffering and groaning of this world. Perhaps in the pangs of birth; more on that later.

So my God is not all-powerful. That does not compute, because then God would not be loving or compassionate.

I also thought about trying to paint God instead, a swirl of all colors, brilliant and mystical. I'm no artist, but that is how desperate I am. Words fail me in this instance.

Einstein said, "Subtle is the Lord." I think he was thinking of quantum physics at the time, but don't quote me. I am taking more of the scientist's tack on this Lord business, lately. Sort of a skeptical view, like Carl Sagan. He seemed to recognize, reluctantly, an intelligence in every aspect of the cosmos that defied the usual secular explanations of random events. But where is the creator now? Certainly this is not the same being as God, our personal savior, God the father/mother.

That is, this Creator set us all in motion, the entire universe, and is letting us spin merrily (or not) away, without any more tinkering. God is not involved in shaping history, neither global nor personal. There is no personal intervention in our lives. Therefore, it would seem by logical extension that there is no power in prayer, which I know from experience is a false statement. Here is another contradictory feeling I have often, that certain events in my life have been planned, for me to discover or learn from. And yet it seems that God is impossibly remote and unconcerned when I see all this suffering.

Today, it occurred to me that I should try to find Biblical references to people who are in the presence of God. What does this mean to them? How does it feel? Being with God has been very much on my mind, as I begin to find 10 minutes a day to consciously spend "in the presence" of God. At the very beginning, I asked God to be present with me. But this sounded out of tune, and I realized what I was asking already was; it was I who had strayed away and needed to come into the presence of God, not the other way around. "Come into his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise," says Psalm 100.

Another Biblical passage that speaks to me while in meditation is God's exhortation to Moses at the burning bush: "Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is hallowed ground." I meditate in sock-feet or barefeet, and it bothers me that my feet may get dirty as a result. But wasn't that the point? Moses had been in hiding long enough. Time to get his feet dirty. This is one passage I had to re-enact, in part, to understand better.

Anyhow, I looked in the concordance to find other instances where people are in God's presence. This led to the delightful insight that God is often referred to as the Presence in the Bible, especially the Hebrew scriptures. I like that. The Presence.

My own inadequate attempts to meld the influences of physics and Buddhism, together with Judeo-Christianity, all together in my spiritual journey (think "Kumbaya" here), lead me to think that God, as a separate being, is not all-powerful. The power is invested in, embedded into, all of the creation. The creator apparently gave away this energy in quite a profligate way. We are all energy, and how we use the energy is what directs the universe. I mean every thing in the universe. We all share the same building blocks of energy, however poorly we may understand them. How can we as humans make effective use of our energy? By being present, fully present, in each moment. This is how we become God's agents, little pieces of God. You see how difficult this is to describe.

I think as we become more present, we also lose our boundaries and merge into a higher consciousness. Time for some new-age music here! An imaginary bell rings once -- to start meditation time -- and let's see, I am imagining some cacophony of exotic, Indian-sounding instruments playing quietly, in the background. Or perhaps we should be listening to "Kumbaya." Chant with me now: OOOOOHM, OOOOOHM, with slow, deep breaths, all together. Aaah! I feel so energized! Don't you?

The suffering of the world is the sign that the grand potential of this collective energy, consciousness, has not been fully born into the world yet. Many people, most everyone actually, are still trapped in their ego boundaries. (Me, too.) This idea of God is also consistent with Buddhism, which always makes me happy. There is suffering; there is an end to suffering. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." Two human attempts to describe something that is wonderfully hard to describe in human terms, and harder to understand.

I need to put some pictures here sometime. First someone needs to take them! Austin's senior pics are the most current we have on hand.

Moodiness

If you are highly susceptible to emotional states (a characteristic of Enneagram Type 4's), you will be at risk of being moody on a regular basis. This is an issue I have struggled with my whole life.

Today, I found myself crying (quietly) on the way home after a long morning in Floresville. My hubby and I had worked out together, then gone shopping to HEB. Yeah, my life is pretty dull! But I haven't gotten to the really sad part yet, in case you were wondering. Somewhere in there, we had also gone to see if our 17-year-old spent the night where he said he did. We were there around 9:30 am, way too early for teenagers to be up and about yet. But no truck (Austin's latest set of wheels) was anywhere to be seen. I hate when I've lost track of one of my children, which is happening with greater frequency with my high school senior lately. I don't know what in the world I will do when he goes off to college! I'll have to write him off as permanently lost, I guess. He eventually turned up, on his own schedule, which was about 2 hours later than my nerves would prefer, driving home from a different friend's house, where he had gone sometime in the wee hours of the morning. He will be gone all day today with band, get home late after the football game in SA, and have to open at Sonic in the morning. Somehow, he will get through it all. Ah, youth!

But let me not imply that Austin's presence is not still felt back at home, even when he's rarely here. He still leaves behind a mountain of laundry and a room in permanent disarray, just to remind us that he's really not gone yet. Only when all his dirty socks, clothes, stray shoes and laptop and plugs and game controls and discs and dirty dishes and snack wrappers, no longer grace various places throughout the house, will we know for sure that he's no longer living at home. Or maybe those things will linger behind forever. Maybe the house will never be clear of the messy, smelly clutter that only a teenage boy can create. We walk by his room and notice, always, a distinct odor. Sort of like the musky animal smells at the zoo, or of a male cat spraying his territory. Yup! Must be a teenage boy sleeping somewhere in the depths of that den. Lately, it's been overlaid with a heavy, lingering smell of grease, courtesy of Sonic.

So back to my hopeless downward spiral into despair, earlier today. The alleged reason for my tears and feeling of being in a bottomless void was this recurring theme in my life lately: losing my son. (I will lose both of my kids in the next few years, but I'm focusing on one at a time here.) I cried because a cruel, uncaring God had cursed me with two sons, no daughters. The problem with sons is they can't wait to flee the nest. I know this is somewhat irrational, as my younger son has much less inclination to leave home, and in fact, we may have to pry him loose from his nest here sometime because he is so comfortable here! But as we were coming home, I was reflecting on a larger theme: the emptiness and futility of my life to date. The misery was easy to expand upon -- I had one parent in the grave and the other seemingly well on his way; children getting ready to grow up and leave me far behind; precious few friends; and a husband who wasn't even aware how upset I was. (Actually, this is a good thing, as what I hate most is for someone to be nagging at me when I'm upset -- "What's wrong?" Makes it so much worse, because I can rarely explain in a way that anyone else would understand.)

After lunch, I realized that there was another reason for my bottoming out, and it had to do with low blood sugar. No kidding! Yeah, my body got me, yet again. It's amazing how much a physical issue -- like low blood sugar -- can feel just like the world coming to an end, things falling apart, the shadow side of everything becoming dominant. It always takes me by surprise when it happens.

So, my child is still gone for the day, and still on his way out the door. I have the right to be sad about it. But I guess my world isn't coming to an end just yet. Not today, anyhow.

The Saddest Story Ever

I have a small story to share from a novel I have checked out from the library with the intention of reading, which was recently featured in the SA Express News as a book that would come to life brilliantly on screen-- "A Confederacy of Dunces" by John Kennedy Toole. There's a reason that in all probability, you have never heard of him.

Here is what the book jacket says: "Turned down by countless publishers and submitted by the author's mother years after his suicide, the book won the 1981 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. Today, there are over 1,500,000 copies in print worldwide in 18 languages."

It just broke my heart to read this. And it encouraged me to inspire other authors. Particularly if your mother is not still alive to earn you your rightful place in history. She should have won an award, too! Poor woman. What a tragedy. Anyway, finish writing that book (Carol!) and never despair of getting it published and finally earning the global accolades you so richly deserve. Or not. But don't give up!

I may have to make "The Saddest Story Ever" a regular on my blog. You know, the story or picture that grabs you and doesn't let go, that no amount of tears could ever fix, that haunts you for days. There are so many, and they add meaning and pathos to life.

By the way, this is a very funny, quirky story. That's why I wanted to read it, something to laugh and guffaw about! His character sketches are brilliant, wacky as all get out, and completely genuine. Mr. Toole, why didn't laughter save you from despair?

Enneagram type 4; and college choices

I have mentioned my discovery of the Enneagram, a personality profiler, if you will ... similar to a zodiac or horoscope. Back in January, I went with my friend Karen to an Enneagram workshop. At the time, I thought hmmm ... not for me! But I continued to pursue it, thinking that I might be missing something important otherwise. The work paid off. A few months ago, I discovered that I was a type 4 (of 9 possibilities), and this was something of a revelation to me.

Type four personalities are "the need to be unique" or "special." Thus, the first surprise was for me to discover that there were other people out there who saw the world in a similar way to me! I still hold to the view that every human being is unique. But apparently, we are not so distinct that we can't be grouped together into common types that do describe certain qualities amazingly well.

One of the hallmarks of a type four is disavowing labels, insisting on not belonging to any stereotypical group at all. I have always approached life from the perspective of the outsider. I was the outsider throughout school, and I remain an independent outsider from religion and politics, among other things. I thought this was somewhat unique to me, because I changed schools and moved so often, so it was only natural that I would never be part of the "inside" group.

Being on the outside shaped my whole personality, so that I strongly identify with minority groups, the oppressed, underdogs everywhere. If I am a member of any group, I am one of these. It is strange to look at me, a white upper-class American, and imagine that I could support the rights of the people who are the most despised by others. It's because they are my brothers and sisters, so much more than people who are in positions of power.

I also strongly advocate diversity, starting in my own family. This has been quite difficult to practice, because I do have the human tendency to want to influence others, especially those I love. I certainly do give my share of nudges, but I insist on the right of every person to have their own (well thought out) opinion and viewpoint, even when I heartily disagree with it.

I feel a lot of conflicting emotions at the thought of Austin wanting to attend A&M University and join the Corps and the Aggie band. Gee, maybe it would be good if A&M is no longer part of the Big 12, because it would be awkward to have a big Longhorn fan (my hubby) and big Aggie fan at a UT-A&M game! Which side of the stands would we sit in, for instance? Aack!

I am glad Austin is thinking of going somewhere that is not a big party place -- or shall I say, not the biggest party place in Texas, which would have to be located in the city of his namesake? Because he certainly could get hooked on partying! But will A&M be a diverse place where he can meet all kinds of people? Do people in the Corps have a sense of humor, and do they ever question authority, or just blindly obey it? Double aack!

On the other hand (like Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof) ... I think Austin will thrive in an atmosphere of discipline, and maybe he recognizes that he needs that. He says he wants to get into shape! You know I would support that wholeheartedly.

The hardest thing for a parent to do is to get on board with qualities of their child that are totally alien to them, and figure out how to love all that anyhow. I think the best thing Dwaine and I can do for our children is to give them our blessing. This is a way of saying that we may not have chosen all the same things our children will for themselves, but it's been a great pleasure and honor having them as part of our family, and we love and support them as they make their way inexorably to adulthood.

Ooops, I wonder if it is a quality of type fours to digress. One thing I certainly embrace is that we type fours know how to feel emotions. Deeply! And we are often wonderfully creative as a result. Yeah, sometimes amazingly depressed and suicidal as well. But let me tell you about how exercise can save your life in that regard!

Tapping into the well of human emotion is deep and powerful, and an amazing gift. To me, it makes life worth living. And I guess worth dying for, too.

Speaking of emotion, I am pumped at having the chance to help out kids at Floresville High School polish up their college application essays (by email). I recently emailed one of the English teachers there, who graciously allowed me to come volunteer a couple of days in May to get juniors started drafting their essays, with this offer -- and she said all the senior English teachers were interested! I actually love writing and editing and don't get to do much of either one these days, and I've really enjoyed helping Austin make his essays better (even if he hasn't). If it helps someone get into college or get a scholarship, that would be amazing.

Good news!

I have good news: my husband found a new job! He actually had another solid job interview last week, too, but couldn't pursue it because they want him to start so quickly. Isn't that a miracle, that he had two good job prospects in this economy?

I am so happy for him and hope that this job will be fulfilling and interesting for him. Since this is a public forum, I can't go into the reasons he decided to leave his old job, interesting as that might have been.

Dwaine had actually never written a letter to resign from a job position. Ever. He was a lifelong employee of Southwest Research Institute until they had a mass layoff in 2009. The letter he wrote to his current company was exceedingly gracious and carefully thought out, and a credit to his character.

This new job involves on-the-job training for something that Dwaine has never done before. I think the position is Computer Architecture? Some fancy, technical-sounding name like that. Apparently, not too many people do this kind of thing, whatever the heck it is. The person who was in the position before knew Dwaine from SwRI and felt he had all the right skills for the job, and apparently, everyone else agreed.

We also celebrated Dwaine's birthday recently! He picked out a restaurant and delighted in being all secretive about where we were going. He printed out something (a gift certificate, I later found) and quickly grabbed it off the printer with a great flourish before prying eyes could see. Austin got increasingly anxious as the hour to eat approached. A large part of his joy in life is in eating, you see. Quantity, not quality, is what he seeks. I think he actually got both when we finally discovered our secret destination.

It turned out the mystery restaurant was an all-you-can-eat Brazilian steakhouse downtown. Austin was so concerned that we were going to a high-end restaurant with paltry portions that he actually packed a mini-box of Corn Flakes in the car, which gave me quite a laugh at the end of the meal! In fact, I was ready to dare him to try to eat ]the Corn Flakes except that I was worried his stomach might explode.

Out of all of us, Austin got the most meat for his money. I am sure that he ate not ounces, but pounds of meat. Chicken, sausage, ribs, and lots and lots of beef, prepared many ways, with different marinades, wrapped in bacon, or crusted. He rolled out of the restaurant, occasionally moaning in discomfort and making other noises that caused us to give him a wide berth. 

I chose to eat from the "salad bar" because I knew I couldn't possibly do justice to all the meat selections, nor did I have any desire to try. I put the "salad bar" in quotes because it was another huge selection of foods, heavy on protein, to include smoked salmon, shrimp, mozzarrella balls, lobster bisque, and black beans. The salad bar was a part of everyone's meal, though only Dwaine tried a substantial portion. Austin was going for the meat all the way. I worry about that boy! He is capable of overstuffing himself, from the Bud Jones full-plate chicken fried steak to last night's meat bonanza. He's putting on the pounds, too. Not overweight, yet, but nearly there. Not a good place to start off college next year.

We then walked off at least 75 calories (i.e., 10% or less of the dinner tally, in some of our cases much less) by going down the River Walk near the Pearl Brewery to see the tail end of the bat exodus from under the bridge. I love that part of the River Walk, with its native plants and joggers and bikers. It is uncommercialized and has a completely different feel from the River Walk that usually swarms with tourists and locals, closer to the mall. We actually saw a crane catch and devour a crawdad out of a swampy bypass of river, on a recent outing there. (Did I blog about that? Just got a feeling of de ja vu.)

Dwaine's new adventure starts Aug. 29. My new adventure (career) started Sept. 28, 2010. It certainly feels weird to both be working new jobs! But that is the modern economy, it seems. There isn't any reward for working many years at the same company any more, and it seems like every job is much more precarious than it used to be.

It's me!!!

I actually have a day off from work where I'm not planning to go see Dad, or go with him to a doctor's visit (though I do need to call and check that all is, in fact, well with him at the moment). He has actually been home for about a couple of weeks now, trying to rebuild his strength and get enough food in him!

I took the most lovely walk this morning, up and down the driveway. The place has been transformed by the 6/10-inch of rain we got Saturday evening. It's like a whole different world out there, with hope literally growing up anew. The trees and plants have all revived somewhat, the dirt looks moist rather than bone-dry, and the greenery is vibrant, especially in the morning when it's not ungodly hot out yet. This walk was such a treasure to me, too, because I haven't had much extra space in my life recently. I know there are many other people who know exactly what I am talking about, probably few of whom would ever read this, but anyhow -- what a blessing! To be able to walk ... to have the day off work ... to not be at the side of a critically ill parent, because he's doing better! I pray that continues.

I am reading a wonderful book by one of the great spiritual mentors of my life, Scott Peck, called "In Heaven as on Earth." The book is about his vision of what heaven is like. So this is a theme in books I've read recently, I guess! I like to go into the library at times and just browse the shelves. It seems that whenever I do, a book sort of leaps out at me and it is just the book I need to read. That's how I found this one.

Of course, I love Peck, and he thinks so much the way I do (that's a major reason I love him). He has also influenced the way I think. Nonetheless, it is interesting how unique each person's vision of heaven is -- based on the books I have read -- and how mine differs from those of others. I am struck by how important the "place" aspect is. As in Jesus's statement, "I go to prepare a place for you." Everyone's idea of the construct of this place is quite different, to the point that heaven perhaps would need to be custom-tailored to fit each individual personality. Isn't it so amazing, the endless abundant diversity of creation?

As for me, I would require a verdant and lush place, much like Earth, I think. I'm not talking Hawaii here or any exotic locale ... something like my own yard in the early morning would be beautiful. Seeing, feeling, smelling the splendor of all that life makes me feel very close to God. (Oops, sounds like I would need my senses still to function to be able to appreciate it all.) I don't think this is a clinging need. It feels more like the essential need to be as near to God as possible. By God, I mean so much more ... please don't misunderstand and insert the Christian God here, limited by people's narrow views. I mean, I mean -- the universal creative potential that binds us all together. Something that is really beyond words and thoughts, that is inexpressible at its core. It is something I long for, very deeply, and I think we all do.

I mention "place" because my friend Karen is fond of saying that heaven is not a place, but a state of mind. Well, yes and no. I don't know about you, but I can't imagine existing without being somewhere! Perhaps that is just because I (like most other humans) am so locked into these mental constructs formed from my surroundings, ideas that are fixed and temporal, and probably not very accurate in describing reality. But I have to believe the evidence of my senses while I am living here in this body.

Here are some other ideas Peck's book gives me to think about. Try this one: what we see as our own greatest flaw, could be the very thing God is using to achieve His/Her purposes. That's what the apostle Paul said in 2 Corinth. 12:9 that the risen Christ told him: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." It's striking how often this message is repeated, I noticed while looking up this verse.

The character in heaven sees himself as quite impatient, and views that as a sin. But he is told that perhaps that is exactly how God wanted him to be, and behave, and it could be his greatest strength.

Another idea is that God's wish for our service is for us to do what we absolutely love to do. I've never been good at this. In fact, it seems like I have to feel like I am suffering in order to truly be serving God. The more, the better! In fact, I can't really be serving God unless it is quite painful. Anything that is not painful can't be serving God -- it has to be selfish and unimportant. This is one of my greatest life struggles, and I think it is because I have always assumed I know what God wants me to do -- it has to feel like work, and be time-consuming, and a great obstacle for me.

But yet God apparently led me to this new career, where everything just fell into place and feels (relatively) effortless, full of ease even.* (*It's still work -- note my delight at beginning of post about having a day off!) Could that be how it is supposed to feel to really be serving? And if this job really is the result of divine intervention, I have to admit I have no idea what God's plans are for me, after all. Why in the world would it serve God best for me to be a CPA and do tax work? Just because I enjoy it and seem to be good at it? I don't get it!

I am going to continue posting if I have time. I have a backlog of unexpressed thoughts that desperately need to be written down. However, so I don't bore you with one (just one) endlessly long and rambling post, I will draft additional posts with different subjects (still possibly endlessly long and rambling!) and try to come back and post one each day. How's that for an effort to be readable?