Early morning. I am flowing on the street, in my little yellow Smart car, to the meetings of today. The line is moving slowly, at the speed of the slowest driver. Useless car corn sounds, people are in a rush, people are angry, people are. I refuse to get frustrated, because the chillout music is dripping from the speakers and last night’s continuous coughing drained me.

Then I wonder. What would Love do now? and the left hand raises above the steering wheel,  golden light springs from it, like small precious minuscule scales floating in the sunlight and diffusing into everything on the road.

It is noon. A sun so hot it makes you confused. On the street that gets me home, right across from the subway station, traffic is blocked. Orange police plastic pawns trace a boundary on the asphalt. A police car set like a barrier. Chalk marks on the grey road. The black and yellow plastic measuring tape. I freeze. A few white pearls quietly lay on the road. Next to a car wheel, a bottle of water fallen from a woman’s hand.

The, I get myself together and ask: is there something I can do at this moment, in this present reality? and the hot July afternoon, teaming with butterfiles, I send the good thought, golden and loving, straight from my heart, to that young woman who is already in the ER of a hospital. She will live. There will be a lot of hard recovery work after she ran across a busy street.

I get home.

In my bedroom, the spoiled lemon tree I got as a gift for my birthday gives me a present: a first ripe fruit that fell off a branch. Apparently, this lemon fruit stayed the same since I got the tree.

Actually it grew a lot since March. I am happy I did not pick it earlier, because this wonderful plant gave it to me when the time was right. When it got really ripe.

So I spent some time contemplating the wonder of the existence of this fruit. My relationship with this frail but strong little tree and the contrast between the tiny branch and the heavy, sensuous lemon. I sent a thank you thought to the tree and mentally hugged the authors of the present. My giant lemon, demonstrating that all you need to do is love. Unconditionally. I ask myself again: what would Love do now? I think it would share the lemon with as many friends as possible. It will get into the cups of tea that all my visitors get when they enter the door.

What I am trying to say is that Mastery is a path that flows, unseen, parallel with each second of Today.  Today only, now only, try for a second to do what a Master would do, not what a human would do. Try what Love would do. That turns life into a continous miracle.