My mother said to me:
“I remember how you have stressed the importance of having spiritual practice in your life. It has become my lifeline.”
All it takes is a couple of days of neglecting “my spiritual practice,” and I become subtly & progressively nuttier, until I say, “What the hell is wrong with me?”
Then I realize that I haven’t stopped to acknowledge the grace and blessings of my Higher-Power, and my gratitude for it. If I catch myself in time, all I have to do is go back to the basics & keep it simple. The cool thing is, the more I keep working at making “my spiritual practice” a daily habit, I am able to recognize the symptoms of spiritual famine more quickly & easily. Wait too long though, and I become like my good ol’ dog Fido (Basset Hound*):
Nose to the ground, locked on to a scent, going and going, consumed in the scent. When the scent trail ends, I stop and look around, as if waking from a dream. But alas, it is too late. I don’t know where I am or how I got there. I am lost. My only hope is my Dog Tag (…Holy Spirit?), and that someone will Stop to read it (…reconnect me to The Source? …be The Good Samaritan? …e.g. something someone says. something I read), and help me find my way back home.
Yes. Somehow, someway, sooner or later, I always do.
The following is a true story: Adrian’s father, Pedro, was dog-sitting our Fido while we went to visit my family in PA. Maybe Fido, bewildered in this new and unfamiliar surrounding was trying to find his way home, or maybe he just picked up the scent of something interesting. Either way, he somehow managed to slip out through the fence surrounding Pedro’s property.
When we returned from our trip and learned of Fido’s disappearance, I was heart broken. They say the last thing we let go of is hope (I like to call it FAITH). So with that last bit that I was hanging on to, I posted Fido’s picture and an offer of a small $100 reward all around the neighborhood. (Though no amount of dollars could ever measure the value of the gentle joyful heart of Fido, it was the very most we had at that time.) Days turned into weeks, and then the phone rang. Fido was returned to us, and all was right in the world again.
Unbelievably, surrounding this true story lies anther, larger one, perhaps even more amazing, of which I am now reminded: “Daphne.” I’ll think I’ll save it to post another day.