I’m reading poems from a book, called she: robed and wordless, that gives voice to the women of the Bible. I have to confess, I’m not much of a poetry person. I prefer mystery shows that present a problem and end with a solution. Not much depth in that. So when I read the poem miriam, the prophetess dances with her people at the red sea I was disturbed at first. The structure of the phrases was tossed about from line to line.  

                          the water parted we saw
              the chariots we dance we are the
              miracle

The words just were not lined up properly as I was taught. As I listened to my disturbance I wondered for Miriam’s people, what is next? The bad guys chasing them are awash in the Red Sea. But what lies ahead of them. Yes there is much to dance about. They witnessed a marvel. And now what? Miles of desert between them and the so called promised land. And, I see in my own life my struggles with the spiritual journey and the parallels with the people out of Egypt. Inroads made and yet what lies ahead sometimes seems like vast unknown territory.  May Miriam dance with me in this moment. What wisdom she has to enjoy the moment. What a relief to me to be reminded to enjoy this moment, each moment.
(Bible illustration is the copyright of Sweet Publishing and licensed by FreeBibleimages for free download under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Share-alike 3.0 unported licence. www.freebibleimages.org)

  There is so much noise is this world. I admit, I contribute to it, watching way too much TV or vegging out with the Sudoku app on my phone. It is mind numbing. An escape from the noise of my own mind. Like a low grade fever that drags you down, but is so imperceptible you don’t even know it is there, critical mind wants more of me - realized ‘me’. The peace beyond understanding ‘me’. Critical mind wants more, but thinks I am less. With every interesting Facebook post from a friend, critical mind thinks ‘I’ should be more interesting.
  This low grade fever of internal criticism burns until I tire and go meditate. Meditation connects my essence realized with All that I am. Wondrous. Period. Full stop.
  There is no room for the fever. There is only full and complete. There is no ‘other’, there only  is.