Every day, I find some reason to disconnect from the divine.

Every day, I find some reason to disconnect from the divine.I wake from sleep, centered in myself and full of light - and somewhere between my shower and my cup of tea, I find some reason to separate: some twinge of pain that reminds me "You're getting older," some Post-it note affixed to the mirror that reminds me, "You're running late."From that moment on, I feel separate - awkward and ill-fitting. My mind spirals away from me, in search of a way to fix this: some magic skin cream I could rub into my body to turn back time; some perfect food or supplement I could ingest to change me into the kind of person who shows up on time.When I try to work from this separated place, I'm unable to settle. I am seated at my desk but my mind is dreaming of other, better work. I am answering the phone but my mind is dreaming of another, better conversation.I am eating my lunch but instead of enjoying this gift of food, I am obsessing over some problem or circumstance: my mind scheming what to say, how to handle things - a million miles away from this tomato, this potato.And then, at some point in each day, there is an opening - a momentary spaciousness that invites me to notice: I am not meant to feel this way.I blink, look around. I notice who I am, where I am. In this moment of illuminated clarity between moments, I realize: I have a choice.I really don't have to feel this way - and if I stay awake, and stay inside this spaciousness, I won't. If I stay awake, I can re-connect to the same centered, light-filled space out of which I awoke this morning.It is always available. And this situation that I'm obsessing over is only an invitation to meet something new - as it is, as I am.Nothing is missing from me. I am not too old or too late. I am not too inexperienced. I am not any of the labels I keep slapping onto (and then, carefully, mindfully, peeling off of myself.)There is no secret prayer, magic pill or potion that I need. It's all invitation. All relationship, inviting me to do the one simple thing there is to do: Open to what is here.But like I said, it's a choice. I don't have to open. I can go back to sleep. And sometimes, that's the choice that i make. Sometimes, It's easier to slice the chocolate cake, click on the television, pour myself a glass of wine.Sometimes, though, it's easier - and feels more genuine - not to do these things. Sometimes, the choice that I make is to stay awake. Even when it sucks.And it has sucked lately. Still, I am finding that when I climb back to the center of  myself, I am filled with my own light. And I stay filled - no matter what comes.