Tickling the universe...

"If you are in joy, the universe is in joy."
                                                            ~ Eckhart Tolle

My friend was telling me this morning she had what one could call an enlightenment. She understood in a totally new way that she is here for a purpose. Of course, I assume everyone is and so does she. Yet when thinking of my life's purpose my mind imagines achievements and projects slightly tinged with grandiose design. Continuing she stated, "My purpose is to expand the universe." I laughed. Having never been sure of what my purpose was in the "big scheme of things," I knew mine never could be that.

The idea itself feels self-defeating. However, I do refer to myself as becoming larger, increasing my experiences, raising my vibrations and expanding inner/outer space to where I love more, laugh more with that quiet knowing of being One, in and with this universe.

The question is, does the universe expand, experience a simple joy when I do? Scientists are beginning to understand that the cosmos works on the "tiniest of scales." When one particle is "tickled," then the other particle, separated by miles, responds instantly -- "even from the opposite sides of the universe."

We are all made up of particles and so is the universe.  Thus, every piece of joy I experience, every insight, every glimpse of the bird on the branch that I pause to acknowledge, that tickles me, affects it all. As Tolle reminds us, "If you are in joy, the universe is in joy." I think of last night's sky, of holding a "small" gratitude up to a star, feeling its expanding power, its beaded love. Presence in whatever mysterious form, expands. How do I know? I can feel it -- no matter what the Putins and Trumps are doing.

Last night, my daughter, son and myself visited my brave ex who has had Alzheimer's for a decade and within the last month has survived several strokes. On arriving, the Senior's common room was full of wheel chairs. They were having a music night and only one musician had shown up. We pitched in with fiddle, piano and guitar. Although my ex is numbish on his left side, he still plays the bones with his right hand.

It was a slow start not only for the audience but for us, too. We didn't know most songs the harmonic guy played but in spite of missing notes and muffing chords those bones kept the beat. I'd look over and catch his eye. Merriment and caring zipped between us. We stumbled on.  Requests started coming from the audience. Someone, not in a wheel chair, got up to dance. Before long we were rocking, laughing with a little foot stomping.  The audience seemed to come to life. It was like, how could I miss so many chords, make so many mistakes and still have such fun? But it was happening.

Life was expanding with every note. Feeble and shaky hands were clapping, faces once somber were
smiling. Memories were awakened, old songs requested. Bill Bailey rocked, Johnny Cash wanted to get out of that Folsom Prison and, of course, those Old Saints came rolling in. Amazing Grace certainly arrived. I played it with my eyes closed -- hearing voices that hadn't sung for a while.

No, we were not good, far from it, in fact sometimes we were pretty bad but who cared or who bothered to notice. We were alive with memories, music and the sheer joy of it. Even the universe may have felt a little tickle.  Later, a staffer came up with smiles telling us it was the best singsong they have had there in sixteen years. And I smiled, thinking, "Probably the least perfect, too."

I think my purpose will be to tickle the universe on "the smallest of scales." Go for that expansion -- in the little things, the little hearts, where we come alive rather than merely exist. And, as my friend concluded, "You see, if I meet you and we share an insight or our souls meet in a kindness or an understanding, the universe does expand."