the most beautiful question: what?
What is my overall wish for life? she asked me so many days ago. The question twists and turns around my head, through my heart, in the sense of me reflected in your eyes (all of them). And the list of possibles and responding questions and seemingly inadequate answers spirals from my throat out into so many possible futures, surely none of which will reveal itself as I could ever imagine; this is a spontaneous miracle of a world afterall.
…what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? she asked ages ago. That, too, is a challenge to my assumed needs, my bruised knee neediness, my love of all things beautiful and comforting and touchable. Are those things enough? Is anything enough? When so many in this world are left suffering and without so much, is anything enough that does not end their pain? And what of ours? Of mine? Does anything ever end pain and suffering. The Buddha thought not. Asserted not. Demostrated not.
And so, if ending suffering and pain is not what I may do with this one stint on the planet, what is it that is worthy enough of my time, my heart, my thought, my talents?
Follow your inspiration. he said to me so many years ago. And so, what if this is the answer to these questions of what and wish and how and when and where… trust in the wisdom and insight of my inspiration.
They ask, they tell. It comes in, inquiry or direction, inquiry as direction, direction as inquiry… and still, it is my one precious life, my wish, my inspiration to be followed. What ask I? What say I?
And so I ask… Can I trust myself enough to trust that the things I wish most to have and do in this life are enough for me and the world?
I answer this way: If my view is balanced, my mind open, my heart full with the love that is all around me and within me… then the things that move me to action will be enough, be right, be beneficial… for me, my family, my community, ad infinitum.
It will be enough. And so the question is the most beautiful, the answer the same. Even if I have a sneaking suspicion I will question myself many more times, and be questioned as many…
Photo: That’s me at four-years-old next to our lilac bush in that big house in St. Ignace, Michigan… probably taken by my mom.