The mind is swirling, whirling with lots of wondering. Most of all, I'd like to know where to find clarity. I have only speculation, and lots of it.
My last post told of my friend Jim's death from cancer. Many attended his well-planned funeral, and afterwards his wife invited the entire gathering to their house. Finally I got to see what Jim had described to me as "a Harley-Davidson in the living room". The house appeared to feature 3 different living rooms, one of which really did harbor a large motorcycle missing some parts, such as handlebars. And I saw the side-by-side Lazy Boys from which he and his wife reportedly shouted together at CNN over political matters. The house was filled with people, chatter, laughter, food, beverages, and even a keg of beer.
It was great, but why couldn't we have done that with Jim living? Why wait until a person is dead before having people over? Personally, I was bothered and was happy to flee early to get to the sitter's house on time.
Then I started wondering what my late buddy would say to me if I could now ask him for advice on my house dilemma. From his new perspective in some other plane, he would surely say,"Betty, enjoy your life. If you want to live downtown, sell your house and move there. Now that I'm dead, if wish I'd finished putting together that Harley that's sitting in my living room back home on earth... I never rode it. We don't regret the things we did. We regret the things we didn't do."
Then a friend who also knew Jim told me that Jim had left his family with an enormous financial debt. Enormous, as in hundreds of thousands of dollars. This friend suggested that Jim's imagined message to me from the grave might have more to do with thrift and responsibility. Hmmmm....
Clarity, why do you insist upon eluding me? Why do your messengers continually contradict one another? Why does Bill tell me to go, and Jill to stay? How is a whirling dervish supposed to know what to do? I want to do the right thing, the best thing. Why should the identity of the right, the best, remain concealed? Why is my sincerity apparently unrewarded?
I teach my child indecision. On Monday he wants to move. On Tuesday, of course, he wants to stay, having re-discover the wonders of the finished basement. He is his mother's son, much more than we'd prefer. Wednesday, though, he'll be ready to move again. If I do ever move, I'll have to time it carefully to fit his switching schedule.
One time, riding a great wave of truth, I emphatically instructed my son on how to seek the answers from inside himself. It was a day when I had been transported from my self temporarily. With enthusiasm, I assured him that the answer was always there, right inside of himself, free for the asking.