Something has gone so completely askew in the world today. The art of busy is replacing the art of Art. Those who can catch a ball, throw a ball, punt a ball, putt a ball or merely chase a ball are paid millions, while those who simply have the balls to live their life authentically are paid pennies. We live in a world where truthfulness is being replaced with political, social and familial correctness, because it requires less time, less effort and is less simply trouble to be polite than it is to be truthful. It is a sad state of affairs when the busy-ness of life overcomes the juiciness of life.
I believe in living juicy. I love that you love your children, your grandchildren, your parents, your sisters, your brothers and your friends... But who or what do you crave? What fills your cup when it's empty? Who calls your name from the stars above or the darkness of the void? What lights your fire? Put your energy there and be willing and fearless enough to see if it satiates you or burns you alive. There are no guarantees, and there is no real plan.
No, life is not to be series of tasks to be done, of projects to complete, obligations to fill or rules to be followed. Life is a series of vignettes to be, not watched or read, but danced with the juiciest part of your soul. Go ahead, dip your toes in the water, howl at the moon, even growl at the moon, certainly dance with the moon. Let it go. Let it all go. There's plenty more where that came from.
Life is meant to be lived as if your life depended upon sucking every last bit of juice out of a peach while living in a orchard. There's always more. You can screw up, and you will. Your experience will show you how to screw up less next time. And you have plenty of time. And you will screw up again. Time is not a race. It is merely a measurement. We give it way too much importance.
The last few days I have felt the heaviness of the moon. I realized I was doing a lot of contemplating and not much howling. We should never forget the beauty and grounding that rests in our most primordial selves. I have always liked that bumper sticker that says, "Wag More, Bark Less." I think I want one that says, " Howl More, Think Less."
Have you ever really howled at the moon? Seriously, have you? Maybe there is just a certain way the planets align when the moon is full, the sky is clear, the stars shine and the moonbeams glisten on the ocean's shore or on the mountain's top, when the depth of her glow penetrates the thickness of your mortal body and a howl, maybe even a growl, bellows up from the deepest part of your earthiness and cries, YES! I know that, yes. And so does every other wild woman breathing on this planet. Prostrations to you, my beloveds. Howl on!
