I’m buying a ticket to see myself on Thursday

How do you react when you believe you can’t go?

“There are NO TICKETS LEFT????”


I have been planning on driving the 90 minutes north on the freeway for several months to see and hear this man speak!!

It’s already planned! We’re leaving at 3 in the afternoon! I have the whole afternoon/evening blocked off! I’m getting my car oil changed just to drive the 80 miles north!

There’s a picture in my head.

I get in the car with my daughter. We have a smooth drive north, greeting my son at his apartment, going to get some yummy dinner somewhere, and then going to the university campus to hear the inspiring and curious man talk.

I just finished his book on the airplane a month ago, reading, reading, reading…..(Die Wise by Stephen Jenkinson).

The whole flight from London to Vancouver I was loving that book.

Pausing to put the book down, eyes tearing up, considering the awesome topic: Death.

I didn’t know he would sell out an entire auditorium!

Where was this announced? Why wasn’t I informed?

Who’s organizing things around here?

(They did it wrong since I am not on the list for entry–chuckle).

Here comes the little voice within. A high-pitched protest, and honestly I can’t even hardly muster more than a split second of arguing with what is, but it is there.

Yes, it is there.

This news.

It all happens in literally about 3 seconds.

Reading the words SOLD OUT.

A flare goes up.

The next thoughts of solving the “problem”.

Who is selling the tickets? Is there a box office? What if I try to buy a ticket from someone who can’t use theirs, on my way in…..like for rock concerts or the Seahawks?

But I have two young adult children I want to go WITH me and THEY want to go, too. Three tickets is harder than one. But I could go alone if its that frickin’ important.

Think, think, think. (Blah, blah, blah).

Outcomes of future image possibilities flashing behind my eyes.

I research a moment, send one email.

She replies back…..yep…..SOLD OUT. Sorry ‘bout that.

But here’s the wonderful thing about inquiry.

No trying to make anything happen, or trying to make the outcome different….

….the thought simply arises like a balloon over the whole flurry of “this is not good”….

….maybe I’m meant to stay home Thursday next week.

Or, maybe I still drive to visit my son, with my daughter, and we have dinner and wander on over to the venue just to see, no expectations. And we get home at a reasonable hour if there’s no chance to hear the lecture.

Who knows?

I relax.

Let’s see where this goes.

Maybe I’ve been spared, for all I know.

Who would you be without the belief that what you want is the best for you, next Thursday?

I mean, seriously?

I notice this same author is coming back to my area in the northwest US next spring. I notice I am not teaching a retreat or workshop that day.

I notice the event is the same topic, but six hours instead of two.

Maybe I’ll go.

But it’s not required, I also notice.

Why do I think being in this author’s presence sounds so thrilling?

(You can do this work if you have a crush on someone, or want to go to a workshop with someone you admire, or feel left out at work, or want to be praised by your boss….anything).

Why do I want to go?

Well. I love contemplating existence, and non-existence, and caring for others who are in pain or dying. I love contemplating my own departure from this form.

I love opening to life, and death, and temporary, and permanent.

I think he knows a lot about these things. He’s hung out with a lot of people who are “dying”. I got to do that, too, for five years.

So my energy gravitated naturally towards spending time in a contemplation with someone else, and a whole room full of people, all of whom want to lean all the way in to this inquiry about life and death, and wise-ness.

It sounds wonderful.

So why do you want to hang out with the person you’ve got an eye on?

Turn the thought around: I need to buy a ticket to an event with myself next Thursday. I do not neeeeeeeeeed to buy a ticket to see the author next Thursday. I need to buy a ticket to whatever Thursday is, wherever I am, and whoever I’m actually with.

These are just as true, or truer.

I need to contemplate death, and life, and laughter, and tears.
I do not need to go, unless I do (and so far, it’s not at all necessary, obviously).
Do you notice, when you turn something around like this, that your mind might say “but, it’s not as fun or good or enlightening or sexy or pleasurable when it’s me, myself and I”?
Are you sure?
“Skip the middle man!” ~ Byron Katie
Next Thursday, since the afternoon is already blocked off on my calendar (for like, two months, may I remind you)….
….since my calendar is blocked off….how could I enter an evening of open contemplation and curiosity about death, hospice, declining body, exiting, and my own deepest knowing that I will die wise?
Hmmmm, this could be really good, no matter what.
“The master stays behind; that is why she is ahead. She is detached from all things; that is why she is one with them. Because she has let go of herself, she is perfectly fulfilled.” ~ Tao Te Ching #7
Much Love, Grace

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