Living in My Host Human

"So how are you?"

Such a simple question. But I'm having a hard time with the answer. Does the person want a real answer or a simple one? Does she want to know the status of my survival? The facts of my life? Or does the person want a picture of my soul?

I've been stunt-jumping on a tricky course. I've been slogging through personal growth and healing. I may feel peaceful, jubilant, sad, confused, ambivalent, or all of these things at once.

It's really kind of amazing to step back and watch the weather of the heart.  

Yesterday I met a friend for lunch. "How are you?"

"I'm doing great," I said. "My host human is having some issues, but I'm doing great."

My friend smiled. "Your host - wait." He smiled. He got it.

So I'm seeing all that is going on with me - relationship questions, creative energy, perimenopausal mood swings, adventures, dreams, and heartbreak - all of this is temporary. It's the stuff that comes with living in a human body.

I have this deep-rooted sense of well-being below all of it, in the center of all of it. And as I identify with who I really am, this spirit connected to the Presence, this eternal being living in an earth moment, well - I can experience the ride without judgment. At the same time, I don't have to gloss over the feelings.


Oh, my host human. She's pretty great. But I'm glad she won't be like this forever.

Image Credit: Rocky Mountain Laboratories, NIAID, NIH

Going Public: Being Online and Hating It

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you—Nobody—Too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! They'd advertise—you know!

How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!

--Emily Dickinson

There are days I hate social networking. I catch myself trying too hard to be Somebody.

Marketers and publicists talk about how important it is for a business owner and author to be visible. But as a sensitive person, I become stretched and thin.

I'm waving tentacles, trying to get some random, invisible crowd to notice.

Then I realize, this whole online thing doesn't have to be a great fit.

I notice others - ordinary people, saints, and poets, who have chosen to put their energy elsewhere.

My true life isn't in what people are noticing or not noticing. My true life is in that secret chamber of the spirit, connecting to something far greater than "famousness."

The trick then, is participating, but not immersing myself in blogging and networking. Not letting myself feel worthy or unworthy according to the outcome or readership.

Understanding the value is a temporary thing. It's a fleeting but useable tool for my work.

It's living in a paradox.

Really, I could desert the whole outfit, become a recluse like Emily Dickinson, and be perfectly happy, but what good would that do the universe?

Fleeing the other frogs is just as self-centered as getting into croaking competitions with them.

Croak on, frogs. I know who I am.

And what about you? Who are you . . . really?