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I used to be a bit of a snob. Much more than I knew. It’s amazing how many meanings we attach to silly things. But this last move (that being more a prayer than a prediction) from one temporary space into a hopefully slightly more permanent one, reminded me how prejudice I can be.

Over the weekend someone asked me how many times I moved last year. My answer surprised even me… 11. I have had 11 different relocation-destinations this year. No seriously. Last year they began with a move as far as Los Angeles to Berlin. And this year, they end with a move as close as a small city block.

I carried my lady liberty and handmade poster from friends about 150 meters down the street to my new, fantastic, garden, studio apartment. My friend Marc had been gracious enough to serve as my permanent address and with that generously came the added load of hosting both me on several “in between lodging” occasions as well all the lovely things I had acquired over a year of living here.

While Berlin is quite diverse and in that way is very forgiving, there are still things that come up in my mind sometimes, things you just don’t do.

But last week I moved one city block without a car, truck or van. My friends came to my aid for the bazillionth time, and together we did it by hand, on foot and with the help of a single previously prejudiced item. Although I wasn’t really aware of it, I had previously designated that the only appropriate use for this item was in the supermarket. But beyond the boundaries of the parking lot of a market or other commercial shopping location, this item was subconsciously reserved for the sole use of homeless people and the like. And so, ironically, in this last push for me to have a home, I was totally saved by this thing used almost exclusively by people without them. All hail the shopping cart.

I think I am more humble now. I am certainly more convinced than ever that I have no business thinking I ever know “how things really are.” And thanks to that shiny thing and some ass-busting work on the part of myself and my dearest ones here, I road that thing proudly… all the way home.

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Peace Problems

So Im having this little problem with enlightenment.

As I type these words I know that my confusion no doubt lies in my lack thereof. Any enlightened person would probably tell me that. Or tell you that about me. "She is just struggling because she is not yet very evolved." But right now Im ok with that. I am where I am. THIS is my road. And THIS is my place on the road. I can not be anywhere else.

So I asked a guru the other day for guidance. I told him I was looking for peace. I realize that its not as though its lost or I will find it hiding somewhere, under a rock or perhaps behind some gorgeous mountain covered in lush landscaping and happy dancing hippie folks. I realize that peace is not the problem, its me. But Im still searching, working, trying to find a way to be able to rest inside for more than just these fleeting moments I find. I asked him and this is what he said:

"There is no road to peace. Peace IS the road"

At first I let it in. I took the words and let them swim around. Marinate a bit in my highly seasoned mind. Then I tried to let my heart have its turn. Spend some time with the concept, just feeling my way through it. What does it mean and what is the deeper truth...

Beat.

It eats itself!

It reminds me of school. When I was a kid and I didnt know how to spell a word, I would ask and they would tell me to look it up in the dictionary. How in the world can I do that when I dont know how to spell it?

Chicken or Egg?

I understand that Jesus spoke in parables so that everyone could get what they needed out of it, but this is rediculous! I hate cannibalistic concepts!

I wonder if past this frustration there is a way on the other side to understand this and explain it to normal people? I mean, seriously. I want to be free!

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