Existence

I came across the following while doing a Tarot reading with my sister this weekend, and felt a strong tug to post it here.


“You are not accidental. Existence needs you. Without you something will be missing in existence and nobody can replace it. That’s what gives you dignity,
that the whole existence will miss you.”

--Osho Zen Tarot: The Transcendental Game of Zen, p.5



Someone here needs to digest this, I think. Is it you?

Wildly Interesting

There's a hole in my living room floor. My living room floor is an old pine subfloor, likely dating from 1904 when the house was built. Why, after over a hundred years, this house still has a soft-wood subfloor in the living room is beyond me. (And notice I’ve not done anything about it either.) One day several years ago when I was on Living Room Layout #12™ (I like to rearrange), I leaned back in my current computer chair and the leg of the chair went straight through a known weak spot in the floor. I won’t regale you with an account of my resulting awkward descent to the floor. This post is about the hole that resulted.



Periodically, Bubba, a formerly feral one-eyed cat, will escape out the back door and immediately go under the house. He'll bat his paw up through the floor to play with the other cats or get our attention, and even the kids can pet his cheek with a single finger through the hole in the floor, while ordinarily he won't let them anywhere near him. And when I’m not looking, they will drop stinky pieces of tuna or other meat in the hole. This does not please me, although Bubba appreciates the efforts.

There may or may not be another unknown cat living under the house. Just because I’ve seen the same cat running in and out from under my house for months does not necessarily mean anything and I refuse to add him to the list of cats who already live with me. (Yes, I’ve finally been approached by a stranger in a store saying, “You’re the cat lady, right?”) The under-the-house cat is unofficial.

It’s not just the cats under the house who are drawn to the hole. Here is a view from above:









Before I shoved my camera at the hole with the flash, I lived in blissful ignorance. For in addition to the above, there are also some unidentifiable lumps, old chewing gum, a pencil stub, too much hair, a KEY (no, no, please no), and a full-sized towel. This is not a large hole. The towel mystifies me.

But this picture takes the cake. Does anyone else see the evil demon alien baby in there or is it just me?



I’ve named it Fluffy.


Yes, the wildly interesting thing in my life is a hole. There is something profound in that somewhere.

A Good Day's Work

“The Master gives himself up
To whatever the moment brings.
…
He holds nothing back from life;
Therefore he is ready for death,
As a man is ready for sleep
After a good day’s work.”

--excerpt, Tao Te Ching 50, Mitchell translation


Do you fear death? Will you have any regrets at the end? Do you spend too much time at work, too much energy worrying about money, too much attention on what others have that you do not? Or do you live for today, milking each moment, tasting the stars, smelling the laughter, relishing the contrast?




I'm not perfect. I worry about money, I wonder how my kids will be affected by their father's absence, I cry about hurts. But more of my time and energy go to enjoying my kids, basking on my Tempurpedic bed, vibrating in pleasure with a cat's purr, savoring a gluten-free lemon wafer cookie on my tongue, feeling the joy from pleasures I know will arrive. I want even more of this.

How about you?