Early in life, maybe more than 35 years ago, I saw \”Cats\” in London. I can still sing some of the songs. This afternoon, I found myself singing \”Memories\” ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gd_ohoPzYc ).
It is a mournful song, appropriate for and old lady; but not a dead lady. \”I was beautiful then…and a new day has begun.\”
Yet here I am. This morning, I was at Starbucks opening the store at 4:30 am. Then, a decent noon meal,and then book reading while laying on my bed something inside me called me to get up and be present, work on my writing. Now, my brain and body are awake, ready for writing and exercise. It is a moment of feeling great, purposeful, connected to something greater than myself. The song from Cats only added power to my physical being. But the energy came originally from Source. Source called me to get off my bed and come be creative.
Isn\’t that wonderful? An old lady feels energy and gets busy creating. Some would say this means I\’m connected to my Inner Being. I appreciate that knowledge. But I can\’t prove I have an Inner Being. But I am able to ride the positive, ride the creation energy. I know for sure, for sure, that the creation energy came from inside somewhere. A human amount of energy would have stayed on the bed.
Wait! I\’m an old lady? How did that happen? Maybe I am not an old lady. What is an old lady? What is old? What does old mean? I bring this up because I want to go deeper into the meaning of a person who has been alive a long time. I won\’t go into long discussions of living in Berkeley CA during the Vietnam war. I won\’t talk about how television arrived when I was a small child and I used a slide rule my freshman year at college.
What is the depth of long years on this planet? It is more than wrinkled skin or grey hear. I don\’t have any health issues. I ran 15 mile just yesterday.
The only time I ever snuck out of the house as a teenager was to go to midnight Mass. My family had a ski cabin and we were there for Christmas. I went out the window of my bed room and walked half a block down a hill to the church. It was a cold but clear night with many stars. My mother had talked forever about midnight Mass, but we weren\’t Catholic. We were unchurched. Yet that one time, it was important to me to go to church. Who was God?
That girl who wondered about God. That is the true core of my being.
A new day, has begun.