***The soul always knows what to do to heal itself

We live in a science-driven world of charts and statistics, we listen to the hum of experts telling us the data from their fields of expertise. I grew up in the last half of the last century when those in the "know" were convinced we would be eating pills of compressed food balanced nutritionally with all our needs by now. We would be flying around in individual tubes controlled by power sources soon to be discovered. It was a heady time. We thought we could "cure" everything. We thought we could think and know and that would help us "be." We were going to be the apogee of cumulative thought since Descartes wrote his Cogito.

As luck would have it – that didn't happen. Not even a little of it. We are still mired in earthly life, delights and all. We have often – actually, always – been ahead of ourselves in thinking of the future and how easy it will be. How much more we will know, how fast we will do what we need to do, how we won't have to be fussing around with all the stuff we do now; whenever "now" is. I am reminded of Mark Twain's Letters From The Earth. He noted many discrepancies with our cherished beliefs and what actually needs to happen.

We tend to leave out the magic of life. Each time we move forward there are things we leave behind. Yes, we communicate faster, we no longer wait for horses or even trucks and cars and boats to deliver anything. And delivering goods has become an obsession. In our merchandise-driven age companies vie for the fastest way to get your "order" to you. No one notices that "order" is not restored by our purchase. No one speaks of the consequence of this drive to acquire, but next to the ads for quickest delivery are ads for debt consolidation and interest rate management. It's easy to ask what's wrong with this picture.

There is no "soul" in any of these equations. No magic and possibility. As I write I am being covered by snow – not actually, but everything outside is changing by the minute, which leads me to change inside as well. I get more reflective if I can take the break and more agitated if I feel I cannot. For some it is a welcome break and for others a pile up of present and future unhappiness.

What will my soul make of this? Where is my soul in all of this? Will it be able to forestall the machinations of my mind? Will I accept where I am and go from there, or will I choose to get online, call and text my anguish at what is happening, post on social media my woes? Will I remember that "this too shall pass?" Will I embrace this moment as I do all the ones I want or that suit me? Always a question!

If my soul knows what to do, how can I access that doing? Do I even know my soul exists? Where is it? Can it be quantified, parsed, imaged? As an artist I am hard-pressed to "capture the soul." It happens to be what I think I do, rather a subjective inclination and mostly, but not always, shared. This planet has been described by some as "the garbage" planet, the place where we find our ego and get to take a ride with it. Without ego we might not be bothered, after all, what attachment can air or a color have? Where can I take my dilution if I'm a chemical? Can I say "no" to anything? Can I say "yes?" Is there a universal supreme court for grievances where our water can take us to court. Can the earth divulge its true feeling about fracking?

No, we are here. We are embodied and muddy with what's around us and we have to be ever so still, on tiptoes and hold gently our Over-Soul, to listen with great attention for its declaration of self, which talks in great sweeping arcs of love. The language we use to decant magic, love, and harmony into our minds can be so vague as to seem foggy – nebulous. That god might exist in us can seem like a distortion, an unknown, undefined and therefore indefensible notion of superiority instead of one of inclusion. We are so good at separation we don't even remember what the gods of science have told us; that without mystery there is no science. Einstein's greatness lies not only in his science but in the marriage he saw of science and mystery. He said, "The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science."

For the mind to be stilled the body does not have to follow suit. There need be no cave, no hours of unrelenting nothingness to achieve the mind's release from the extenuating circumstances of life. No excuses need pile up, no calls need to be made, nothing special need be done or bought, no orders filled or papers filed. "Just this," and "this," and "now," "here" is all that needs be noticed or said. This can be done while riding a bicycle, running, painting or playing football. It is done by all the starlings we see and fish who make instant adjustment to their flight/course. Simply paying attention can win the game, seal the deal, carry the load.

Why is it so hard to still the mind? Why is it so easy to worry, feel pressure and notice what's wrong? Who knows. Who cares. Take a breath, stand to and let go. And when you think you need some help, well, give a call.