I am in charge of inviting people to a New Years party. As the party is about to start, I see a homeless man there, apparently inviting himself. Even for a homeless man, he seems to be at the bottom of the heap. I ignore him, hoping he will go away on his own, and mentally prepare to do what is needed to have him leave. A woman welcomes him wholeheartedly and without reservation. I am surprised by how she is so unreserved in welcoming him, and even more surprised when I realize that he is fully awakened and lives it with a great deal of life experience and wisdom. Far more than just about anyone else I am aware of. Other homeless people show up, and are now welcomed wholeheartedly as well, by me and others there.

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I am enjoying a simple exploration these days…

Notice a sense of a doer - in whatever form it takes here now. (Observer, thinker, chooser, explorer.)

Where is it in the body? What are the sensations?

Quietly meet the sensations. Welcome them as they are. Stay with it. Explore with a gentle curiosity. Friendly interest. An appreciation for these dynamics as they are, and the mystery behind it. The beauty of it.

Notice if it shifts. Then stay with that.

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But you, son of man, listen to what I say to you. Do not rebel like that rebellious house; open your mouth and eat what I give you.”

Then I looked, and I saw a hand stretched out to me. In it was a scroll, which he unrolled before me. On both sides of it were written words of lament and mourning and woe.

And he said to me, “Son of man, eat what is before you, eat this scroll; then go and speak to the house of Israel.” So I opened my mouth, and he gave me the scroll to eat.

Then he said to me, “Son of man, eat this scroll I am giving you and fill your stomach with it.” So I ate it, and it tasted as sweet as honey in my mouth.

Ezekiel 2:8 - 3:2

Bible verses can of course be interpreted to (appear to) support just about any point. For me, reading these verses in isolation, I see a beautiful description of what happens when we “eat” our lament and mourning and woe.

I start out rebellious. I argue against reality. I resist experience. I want things to be different from what they are. (According to my story of it.)

I am invited to eat my lament and mourning and woe. (Meet it. Be with it. Feel it. Welcome it.)

And when I do, I find - to my surprise - that it tastes as sweet as honey in my mouth.

I find that it is not what it appeared to be when I resisted it. It appeared horrifying as long as I resisted meeting, feeling and welcoming it. But when I do, there is a sweetness, comfort, receptivity and nurturing fullness there.