Would I Change if I knew?

Had an Artist's Date the day after Chris Feinstein died. Went to Guitar Center and played electric guitars. Here's the one I loved:

Right now I'm sitting down to organize my checkbook and pay some bills. And I'm hearing Tracy Chapman wondering "would you change" if you knew . . .

and I am mystified by that question. Would I? Is The Artist's Way helping me get clearer on that? It seems multi-layered.

The primary level being that of being-ness. Of softening into the Divine within and all around. "That permeates, penetrates and fills the interspaces of the Universe," as Wallace Wattles says. That being that is everything and nothing. The space inside of the spinning atoms that make us up and everything around us. Emptiness. And what is more primary than to rest in that and to know that? For me, nothing.

The secondary level being doing-ness. So, yes, I'll balance my checkbook and pay some bills because that's part of the secondary world, the world of form, that we live in. I don't have to, nobody's forcing me, but it seems like a good thing to do. Keep things on this level more comfortable.

And then what? Will I go take care of my passport photos and go to the gym? I love working out and enjoy being at the gym. I'm glad I distinguished that just then because I have been wondering where things like going to the gym fit in with our unknown lifespan. I see that loving exercise makes it a worthwhile thing to do. Don't we want to be doing things we love if we don't know how long we'll live? And we don't.

See, I'm hopeful AW is helping me clarify that conversation. The one for what to do in the world of form.

I just want to live 100% on guidance. And my mind's been talking to me a lot. Pushing me a little bit and I go the other direction when it does.

This week we're told that when we're blocked a great thing to do is just one thing. Just one thing. Julia says we don't want to hear it (and I didn't) but then I did a little something, and I liked it.

We've been looking, also and again, at what we're not allowed to do.

I have much to reconcile in that department. (Wow, I just saw the judgment in that word, reconcile. Whew!) And it's right here for me to look at. (How about, I have much to surrender to in that department?)

So.

Would I change if I knew?

Nope. Here's Joni Mitchell singing one of my favorite of her songs. I'm in.

One of my favorite and least performed things to do: visual arts

I'm finally making my poster from Week 7. I'm grateful for the tasks to give me something creative to do when otherwise I'd be sitting around lamenting what isn't instead of being here with what is. Tearing up magazines, Joni Mitchell Pandora station, chamomile tea, heater, pajamas, and Scotch tape.

Across the Universe

Seems I keep coming back to the music.

Long Black Veil

This week (Week 7) we're looking at what we would try if it didn't have to be perfect. Well, here's something:

in your arms, in your kitchen, in your heart if you’ll take her

I'm hearing Ryan Adams right now sing "You Will Always Be the Same" and he sounds great. Sounds familiar. Like home. Like some kind of love.

Tonight I took a risk and wrote about my warning label. The details are here on one of my other blogs.

The short of it is that sometimes, when recovering from heart break, I see my patterns and I think, I should come with a warning label:

Warning: I’m going to fall in love with you. Get close to me, get close enough to kiss me, and you’re just about guaranteed to have a love bug on your hands (in your arms, in your kitchen, in your heart if you’ll take her). Not for the faint of heart.

I credit the work in The Artist's Way for helping me distinguish that I DO want such a love in my life and for being unapologetic about it. I credit this week with encouraging me to take risks like declaring such a thing to the Universe (I suppose I also credit Wallace Wattles for that, too, with gratitude).

I'm really sleepy right now, having stayed up a little late to get this bit written. I'll come back here again soon.

Grateful.

cc