I’m still in the mountains of Montana as I write this. Even back when I was planning this trip, people would ask me, “Won’t it be kind of lonely up there in the mountains all by yourself?” Being lonely is not something I’ve ever experienced so I would reassure my friends that I would be fine. Others came from a slightly different angle, “Are you running away from something?” Uh, well not that I know of! I like being in the mountains, in the summer anyway, and I still intended to keep up, as much as possible, with my regular commitments to myself, and others. I like group work and so I am an active member of several teams working on different projects. By installing a modem, bringing the Internet to the cabin, I reckoned everyone would hardly notice I was away from home.
What does ‘Letting Go’ mean to you? It’s a common phrase; you’ve no doubt heard it many times. It applies to animate and inanimate objects. It applies to family relationships, jobs, homes, friends, pets and food cravings. It even applies to beliefs and ideals. I suspect the longer you’ve been attached to something, the harder it is to let go.
Is it a matter of detaching, of no longer caring? Is it a physical action, a mental construct or an emotional state? Maybe it is a combination of all of this. It seems to me that the incentive to let go is the freedom that replaces the attachment. Trying to hang on can be hard work. Letting go opens up space for something new to come in.
Do you notice the Magic of God moments when they are happening? Or perhaps you have a measurement of how big something has to be before it qualifies as the Magic of God?
I used to feel that to call something the Magic of God, meant that it had to be BIG – like one of those stories you read about in the newspaper where a stranger finds superhuman strength and lifts a car off of an injured person following an accident.
The death of a loved one is always a marker. It marks the passage of time. It often marks the end of an era, usually a change in outer circumstances, and often a less obvious but powerful change in our inner landscape, especially if the death is one of our parents. It doesn’t matter how old they were or how old we are, when our parent passes on it gives us pause to reflect on our life, our relationship with them and how that relationship has affected us.
Time is a man-made convenience. Knowing the time, being on time, and having time gives us the illusion of being in control of the uncontrollable universe.
My main issue with time is that there is never enough of it – but that’s just me!
Recently I made an international trip, flying east from Australia. So I left Brisbane at 10am on Saturday and arrived in Los Angeles at 6am on that same Saturday so in effect, I arrived before I left. I really like flying east because it allows me to live the same day over again (and gives me the illusion of having more time!)
Like many of you, my days are full from early morning until night. There always seems to be more things on the To Do List than there are hours in the day. Since I can remember, I would always arrive 5 or 10 minutes early for appointments, lunches, and meetings with friends. Now I arrive just in the nick of time, right on the dot, with never a minute to spare. Time is a scarce commodity when you live by the clock. (I am trying to break free of this imprisonment by the way – a subject for my next blog perhaps!)
I’m getting ready to go overseas for an extended stay. In the lead up to my departure, I planned to attend a week-long ‘retreat’ - which might seem like the worst time to start a new jigsaw puzzle. I even went out and bought a brand new one so I would have no idea how the pieces were going to fit together.
Gayle Cue loves writing about life, reflecting on every day miracles and pondering on the big picture.
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