An alternate title for this post could be: Fleas Have Not Yet Flown.

Checking in with our small group on the Dharma Path (a two-year course with Barbara Brodsky, Aaron, and John Orr) on Tuesday evening, I shared feeling very sad about the removal of a beautiful, big, old (about 60 years), tree that was cut down that day. It might have been easier if the tree had been obviously weak. It might have been easier if I had made the decision instead of having it be made by the owner/manager of the property where we live in our tiny house now. And it might have been easier if it had not been our ONLY tree in our yard, leaving us at the mercy of the blazing summer sun.

I told Barbara how unskillful I felt, not being able to feel the everlasting peace as well as the sadness. She said kindly, “Who dies? What dies? Does the tree still live in your heart?”

I choked back tears, no longer just for the beautiful old tree, but now for the human who was having difficulty keeping my heart open.

Yesterday morning when I arrived at Joel’s, it was obvious the fleas had not yet flown. (See Fleas!)

When I pulled the chair out to have lunch, I saw a live flea on it, and twice during lunch a flea crawled on to my ankle and bit me as I ate my salad. Instead of my normal nap on the massage table, I placed a light-colored bed sheet on my lap, sat on the futon downstairs, and inspected McGee. She is the one with very light-colored fur, so easiest to see fleas. She innocently welcomed my search, experiencing it simply as loving attention. I found several live fleas still on her sweet body, and lots of dried blood and flea-body parts. When I went downstairs for bed, McGee came to bed with me (her usual delight at having an overnight companion on the lower level). While reading, I chased down one live flea on her forehead. She obviously was not loving me any less because of the fleas. I was doing my best to stay open to her precious presence.

This morning as I entered the kitchen, I saw two fleas jumping on the tile floor. I found half dozen or so on the slippers I was wearing. Joel sprayed the herbal product he has been using on the kitchen floor, and I stood at the counter to eat my fruit bowl.

Let me be perfectly clear—this is not about fleas. This is about my heart. More importantly, it is about the truth that as the day progressed, it became more and more difficult for me to keep my heart open.

I can see clearly how the difficulties with the fleas is helping me see, accept, and love my human self.

Barbara continued, “On the mundane level (relative reality), the open heart is where we remember that on the supramundane level (ultimate reality), there has never been anything to heal. Able to just say, ‘Fleas, fear, sadness…. ahhhhh…. I no longer have need to manifest this. I do not choose to embrace this as a reality.’”

It might have been helpful to have read today’s Daily Word early this morning rather than when I got home.

The key word is “Centered.” I am being pulled off-center by my belief Joel should be doing something else (taking the cats out of the house and having the house treated), and by my aversion to the flea experience. Fear of bringing fleas home to my house enters in also. Feeling hopeless, helpless (it is hard enough to get myself to do what I want, much less Joel), and totally not centered.

I do prefer feeling centered, and in those times when it is difficult to do so, I can choose to remember my highest purpose is to love.

Debra, in Egyptian, means she who brings the sublime light of the creator.

And when the light is bright, you can see the fleas!