I dreamed I was homeless, but not much bothered by it, and wandering the streets. I stumbled into a huge, old church that also happened to be a school. There were hundreds and hundreds of kids. I loved the vibe. One of the teachers, after questioning me, said I could stay until after the "assembly," which was like a church service. There were different groups of children singing all kinds of lovely hymns in various languages. So very beautiful. I remember the ornate ceiling and walls. I was awe-stricken. The childrens' voices echoed, like angels, the sounds reverberating throughout my entire being and leaving me breathless. Even now, as I recount this, I can feel it. Afterwards, I went outside and was waiting to cross the busy street when, in the midst of all the kids and parents and traffic and chaos, somehow the head guy - the bishop or priest or something like that, who seemed very old and wise and clearly highly regarded - found and approached me. As we walked together back toward the school, he explained that he had heard of me from the teachers I had talked to during my "stay." We walked - resounding footsteps - through the halls of the historic structure. We talked quietly, through winding corridors of stone, dusty nooks and crannies, and overhead chandeliers. Perhaps I'll never know the end. In fact, I think I missed the end...Because I was too busy trying to figure out why the guy offered ME, the homeless yoga teacher, a high-level position at this too-lovely-for-words place.
How about you? Are you ever too busy trying to figure this life shit out to just accept what is being offered to you?