I get home from work, and go into the backyard to look around, and I see a toy that we bought yesterday lying on the grass, partly chewed up.
I picked it up, looked at the damage, picked up some arms and legs, and took it to Trev.
No lecture, no anger or frustration.
I showed you a picture the other day of Trev's room (oh - that was olm). Chaos. Little tiny pieces of chaos, too.
No screams, no hollerin', no anger, really, though being in there made me sort of tense and overwhelmed after a while. I did tell him to take off his tired legs and keep cleaning when he complained, but I was sort of teasing, and that was only because we decided that we would do it together - because neither one of us was really excited about it, but we both didn't like the mess.
It's sort of strange for me, because it appears that change happens, but that it just takes a while.
As much as I believe in manifesting, and changing, and creating my own reality, and as much as I long for and believe that you can change your mind in an instant - it seems that there must be a process to mastery.
That's not something that I understand yet. The why of the process, I mean.
Perhaps it has something to do with the peace I've been talking of lately - if it comes in a sudden flash, it can just as easily be lost.
If it comes slowly thought by thought, it is more able to be counted upon and sustaining.
Maybe the entire process - the erring being as equally valuable as the successes - is what makes up the path of Becoming.