Living With a Master

Living With a Master

Each night, I set an alarm for 4 am. Most mornings, I wake before that alarm sounds. The time spent meditating, learning, and dreaming while I am awake, helps to shape my day. Usually, I have to get my bearings when I wake up. I ask myself what day it is. I ask myself what I need to do. And the thing that makes a difference, the thing that gives me what I need (even before my first cup of coffee that I am convinced is among the things I need), is to find something to for which to be grateful. Whatever comes to mind. To be grateful.

I fancy myself a person that contemplates. I like to believe that I am a thinker. I would like to believe I am both an observer of, and one who lives, my life. Oh, yes, I would like to be all of those things. When it comes down to the heart of the matter, I am just some dude, trying to figure things out, and the time I spend doing that is really just time taken away from gratitude, love, and kindness, which is, really, all that I am trying to figure out. At best, what I do throughout each day, is sow seeds of gratitude, love, and kindness. And I do these things with an alarming rate of inaccuracy.

To be fair, I am not always good at those things. Sometimes I am grumpy. Sometimes I am stubborn. Sometimes my sowing of the seeds of gratitude, love, and kindness, are really efforts to ask someone else (family, friends, internet) to provide those things to me. Life is tricky sometimes. The only good thing about my motives, is that I tend to question my motives, hopefully in a positive and healthy way. And while it sounds great to say I sow seeds of gratitude, love, and kindness, my ego and expectations, often times get in the way.

This morning I woke before my alarm. Determined my position in time. I became thankful for the rest I had, and began to look towards the work of the day. As I reached to retrieve a document from what I loosely call a filing system, I pulled from a folder, a document I had not intended to read. But I read it anyway. And what it was could have been left by the Divine itself. It could have been written by any of the teachers religions are founded around. As it happens, it was written by my then eleven year old son, Carter. He just recently had a birthday.

Carter is my son. I do not have biological children. What I have is two red-headed step children, who I know as my son and daughter, nieces and a nephew, that I consider to be my children, as well. Carter “came to us” nearly seven years ago and we fell in love with him immediately. Long story, short. We are all mixed up. My guess is, that you and your family are mixed up, also. If we are all mixed up, perhaps we should quit worrying about being “normal” and just concern ourselves with the aforementioned gratitude, love, and kindness. Just a thought. In truth, everyone I meet is my brother or sister, in a big, fat, mixed up, wonderful family.

As for living with a master. As for Carter. As for what I read when I woke this morning. I will type it without his grammar errors. I will not include his misspellings. Notice at the top of this article that he did not even take the time to spell his name completely. This spirit. This child, who being only eleven years removed from a world we might have forgotten existed. This amazing mess, made up of wisdom, and who at the same time, cannot simply remember to make his bed in the morning, teaches every day to those that might listen. And then, like all “nearly teens”, he does something incredibly childish that is geared to drive my wife and I insane.

As I woke this morning. This is what I read.

“The Gift of Life

God, he said, god. God made earth, all the nonliving, and living things. Including us humans. We were sent down for a reason. No matter what the situation you’re in, he sent you there for a reason. He knew you would shine when others didn’t. He knew how you feel and knew where you belong. – Carter”

Sometimes I wonder if God uses things like this to speak to me. Then I thank God for using things like this to speak to me.

There was nothing in his note that spoke to my troubles. Nothing that eased my concerns. Nothing that was written mentioned how I am going to pay bills, launch a website, help run a district for a car wash, or build a great relationship with my wife. But it did help with all of that and more. Hopefully it will help you. Take time each day to dream the dreams that assume the possibility, of an eleven year old leaving a note, that speaks of, and for, the Creator.

To quote the master with which I live, “he sent you there for a reason, he knew you would shine when others didn’t”. Happy day to you, Miss. Happy day to you, Sir. Create a day with the understanding that you are already whole, and help others realize the same about themselves. Breath in gratitude. Bathe in love. Share a kindness. And for the love of all that you deem holy, afford yourself some grace. Life is hard sometimes, you do not need critics. This includes you.


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