There are teachers all around us

Another rainy day in San Francisco, and I take refuge in my house.  Colored lights in the front windows, the tree sparkling, and it is hard to talk myself into doing anything other than just being ... here ....
My oldest friend in the world gave me a painting of my cat Jackson done on a cigar box, and as I look at this whimsical sweet piece I am reminded of what it takes to produce beauty.  It takes work (with heart, of course).  She works doggedly at her painting, producing countless small jewels that she offers the world -- in her studio, on her website, and now her blog.  She just does the work day after day.  But that is in her nature, really... So earnest, steadfast, purposeful is she.  It inspires me no end.  Do I have that work ethic?  (And is this Sunday's question?)  The answer is :  sometimes yes, sometimes no.  I work when I feel a passionate drive or yearning, but not when I am just moving from moment to moment, in my head, sometimes in my body..... It seems as though I am just traveling through, and Sue is literally rooted in her vision.  Turns out she dislikes travel about as much as I LOVE it.  It's a marvel how different we are, and yet our 62 year history has stitched us together and made our connection rich, seamless.
My children teach me that letting go is the key.  In the midst of confusion and apparent chaos, you let go and breathe, and all is eventually revealed.  There is so little to control, really.  "We live in illusion and the appearance of things,"  some Buddhist or Hindu sage wrote.  When I was young I felt bound to create and orchestrate my family's life, and now they all have their own, and there is no need.  I can simply rest in the middle and feel the feelings and thoughts as they stream past.  My brain tells me I must plan, make things orderly, make things beautiful, make everyone happy, and my heart tells me life is already all these things, and there is nothing to do about it.  Christmas will come and go, with its amped up energy and high expectations, and I will feed the family "duck a l'orange," with a great rich red wine and bountiful array of food around it, and hopefully each of us will know during some part of this ritual what it feels like to love, and to be deeply connected as we travel our very own paths.  And that is all that matters, really.  It's not about the structure, it's about the heart beating underneath it all...