Seat 2B.

On the plane and late after a long good-bye.

“Alice!” The flight attendant exclaimed as I approached. The whole plane had been waiting for “Alice,” and here I apparently was. 

“An extra long good-bye,” I explained. 

As I took to my assigned seat, the ego-mind entertained the possibility that there were people on the plane thinking, “Well, if that’s Alice it was well worth the wait.”
“She was worth waiting for.”

Mind catches itself, “No,” it shadowboxes, defending its ungraceful blurt of arrogance,* “Not because I’m beautiful but maybe I was so lovely, pleasant- GLOWing, even, upon entering.” I might have cracked more of a joke. “What if I had?” It says. I could have thanked everyone for waiting like a big announcement. My little Extra-Long-Good-bye comment was sweet, though not a big laugh. And probably even made Someone angry- “You have love so we wait?”

Hmmm. Not beauty, or wise glow, or humor. The mind searches like a scanning computer for worth. What made me worth waiting for. What makes me worth waiting for? Not that they should have left, but how have I made up for the delay? 

Then something dawns on me.

I am Alice. 

"Who cares? Who's that?" The mind can say.

The one assigned to 18F. Alice is the One Who They Were Waiting For.  I am Alice and I am simply here to take a seat. To fill the emptiness assigned that name. 
I am Alice. And here I am. No song and dance. I have arrived, and the fact of my being here is all there is or ever was. I needn’t say a thing, do a thing, think a thing, or be a thing. I am Alice, and no one else will do. 

There is a space for your being. If not filled by you it will go empty and a whole collection of Being will be kept waiting, not knowing just what for. 

Arrive in gratitude that you’ve made it, and take a seat. 


You are you, and NO ONE ELSE will do.

*what is called "arrogance" by the mind which takes itself far too seriously, is really just a thought with the selfsame root as the one that says "I'm not good enough." All to be held so softly. Thoughts are not for sorting, but parting - like a window curtain - to see through.