Good Morning!
In our society, it is not easy to be present with things as they come along.
We see them as annoying diversions, and treat them that way too...
Seeing the opportunities that are presented to us; to be present, or of service, because we are mentally ahead of where we are now, planning the next "thing to do" or task to be completed.
The taskmaster in our head does not allow for synchronicity, or divine timing it is selfish and demanding.
.
This causes us to be unapproachable and it sends a message that we are too busy to care.
Busy with what?
We may miss a special encounter with someone, or perhaps a messenger, bringing us some insight. Maybe an important opportunity for dialog with our children..
In order to do this we must truly weigh the things we do with actual importance, and not get caught in our agenda, or the agenda of others.
Some days, other opportunities come along seemingly to divert us; but are they a diversion, or a purposeful encounter, that we would miss by not listening, and rushing by?
Allowing ourselves to not take our duties so serious, allowing for spontaneity, shows us how we can also be forcing our needs in the path of others, derailing them, just to meet our deadline.
It can be selfish and careless.
Being preset and allowing for the divine order creates Peace.
It silences the inner judge, and allows for the Joys of purposeful encounters into our life...
Make someone feel of value, give them yourattention...fully....
Here is the thought for the day
When you are exasperated by interruptions,
try to remember that their very frequency
may indicate the valuableness of your life.
Only the people who are full of help and strength
are burdened by other people's needs.
The interruptions which we chafe at
are the credentials of our indispensability.
The greatest condemnation that anybody could incur--
and it is a danger to guard against --
is to be so independent, so unhelpful,
that nobody ever interrupts us
and we are left comfortably alone.
Author Unknown,
(But Greatly Appreciated!)
Namaste,
Marianne Goldweber