Joblessness has its advantages. When I can set aside for a time the alarming lack of income, there is (or was) the spaciousness of a summer morning in the backyard gazebo meditating, reading, journaling and talking quietly on the phone to soul siblings. But then there are the days, and nights, of bleakness and desolation. Will I ever be restored to what I consider my proper place in contribution/income flow? Are the random connections and creations I make here and there sufficient? Is it really true that the universe will provide, that abundance is mine to claim?

It’s been a long, hard day. My only comfort, frankly, has been certainty that discomfort and groundlessness must be accepted for sanity’s sake. And so I bumble along, counting my blessings, including all those people who, in so many ways, make it known that they wish me well. And I remind myself that the antidote to self-pity is helping another. The tricky part is to do that without abandoning myself.

I miss my friend Karen, who died in June 2011, desperately. When that soreness comes on strong, I invoke the feeling of warmth, joy and acceptance I had when I was in her presence, and try to open up my cells to receive that love as real this very moment. I often do this at night, then  go to sleep intent on dreaming my way into a new day where I can begin anew. As long as I stay present to the downs as well as the ups, as long as I stay real, parts of my life may not make much sense to me. But it will be the best it can be. And who knows? I may wake up tomorrow in a blessed state of grace.