Heart as path and destination

Am I the author of my existence? no.
Am I the driver of my life's journey? yes.
Did I create the path I am driving on? (still no answer to that one)

I am wondering about where thought can lead us - is it true that we create our reality by our thoughts, that I can visualize what I want, and focusing on that draw it to me?

I guess it depends which reality we are talking about.

The house I live in, the job I do, the family I interact with, are one level of my reality. But there is a space inside my heart that is already enjoying serenity and tranquility, is anchored in deep waters. On the surface, the waves may be choppy, the storm may be howling. But in this deep protected place of the heart, another weather system predominates. And this, too, is real.

In that deep contentment where the heart is full, my desires seem to pale. I still want to get paid a good salary, have recognition for work well done, interact with my children without too much angst, rest when I am tired. But there is not the driving need to get all my fulfillment from my surroundings, because inside my cup is full. It helps me relax into life and appreciate what comes.

This river of full-heartedness exists inside of me, you.

So I guess my previous post about The Secret and its hype, in response to Bella's blog about the Secret and its hype, is about acceptance and not-knowing.

Bella used childbirth as an exampe (the field in which she works). I saw it in my own experience of two very different births. The first one, I was letting the doctor and hospital schedules run things, and not trusting my body very much. I imagined that if I wanted a natural childbirth without drugs or intervention, it would pretty much happen. The I Ching that day said "reality never coincides with its ideal". Well, after a day of being induced with oxytocin didn't help bring a child down, a week later I danced myself into labour, then spent a fruitless night with contractions and no dilation.

The next day, after hours of intense back labour (and more drugs to speed things up), I was begging for an epidural. They put it off as long as they could so as not to delay things any more. It was a relief when they gave it to me, and after pushing a short while, finally, beautiful blue-eyed Julien slid out of me. I was so tired, but too excited to sleep, transformed by his passage through me. Of course, the journey had just begun.

I was determined the next birth I would listen to my body, but after two weeks of waiting past a 'due' date, Caitie's arrival was helped along by an old grandmother's recipe of castor oil, sex and sit-ups; she blasted out of me on the back seat of the car on the way to the hospital after 1 1/2 hours of labour. While I was relieved that she was pink and breathing, and laughed all night with relief, there really was no way of picturing that in advance. We considered our prayers had been answered, in a way, because no doctors or midwives were in attendance, just my husband catching her slippery body and covering her with his shirt.

We also lost two babies to miscarriage previously; and grieved those little fish thrown back into the sea. Was it ambivalence about having children? or nature's way? We had to surrender to those realities.

So I guess I see it this way: I am driving the car, but I do not create the path in front of me. I may take side trips over rocky terrain, then come back to the smooth highway. I may exit for coffee and gas or find shelter from the rain or snow on the side of the highway. I may extend my trip or have it shortened. But I can enjoy the ride, no matter the weather, trust that the highway will bring me to my destination. The ride, with the heart as guide, is more pleasant. A compass to help me find my way home.

knowing only one thing for sure,
I carry home with me, whither I wander,
musemother