Only One Thread

I awoke with one resolution upon the whisper of my heart. That this day, this day would be the sole purpose and meaning of my life. Tis the only day I have. Should tomorrow come, I will again whisper this day, this day is the sole purpose and meaning of my life.

If when my spirit leaves this physical form, I am to look back upon the chalice that carried my light and smile, then this day I must greet the day with open hands and eyes, full faced, unshielded and vulnerable. And as it is the only day I have, to be bold enough to say

I am beautiful. 

I am strong.

I am lovable.

I am worthy.

I know how to love.

I have and do love.

I know joy.

I know despair.

I know both without judgment.

I am not perfect.

I know my imperfections exist within Perfection.

I am a writer.

I have a poet's yearning.

I have the heart of a child.

I have but this day to say, "I love you."

Namaste.

Parsed and Released

You can feel the calendar quivering. You can feel the months passed, heavy upon the nail holding them to the wall and the last page, weighted with such a busy month. It is a quivering of knowing, not only will the page be lift but the entire calendar will be released. All that was, all that was to be and all that was not known have had their dance... time for take off.

Do I dare hope to be so free?

Do I dare hope to be?

Do I dare hope?

Do I dare?

Do I?

Do.

Overall'd Angels

Disclaimer: Nothing profound. Perhaps only a thread for me.

The wind and snow damaged the unused chimney. A random roofer called who came right away.  He assured me he could fix.  I wondered why his adamant affirmation and he brought his arm to my attention. Only an arm to where the elbow should be. He said I can do it, not to worry and not too much. I pulled my stutter hand, hidden in my pocket out and told him, I had no doubt he could. He did.

As life would have it, later after the chimney was repaired, the furnace quit. It was not even 30 degrees and the temp was dropping. It was also 4pm on Friday before the New Year's weekend.  Another random number called with a heart beating a plea for help. Half an hour later, a very tired older man showed up wearing weariness inside his coat. He apologized for the delay and interrupting my evening. He also said the coffee smelled good. I asked him about his day, his Christmas and thanked him for I could see he was tired. With a cup of coffee in one hand and tool box in the other off he went to the basement.  The furnace went on and he asked for a broom. He wanted to sweep where he had worked. With broom in hand and another cup of coffee he cleaned where I would never ever have seen. Thanking him again, and for a bill ever so small, he left having showered some of the weariness and thanked me for the coffee.

I sat in a warm house, with a warm cup of oatmeal warming my stomach.  Sweet tears streamed down my face. Thank you was all I could whisper. Thank you for the oatmeal and angels who pass our way. 

No, nothing profound save profound gratitude.  Gratitude harvest. Angels in overalls. Simply simple whispers that dance tonight with the last full moon of 2012 and the first full moon of a New Age. May it be an illumination of thanks.

Giggled Debate

Sometimes a good debate with yourself is healthy.


You can close your eyes, snap your fingers and/or click your heels. You STILL won't get to Kansas.
     But if that makes you pause and take a time out, then by all means go for it! You may find yourself in a better place than Kansas (no offense Kansas).

You can say "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can" over and over and sometimes, well, you can't.
     Better to be honest and know what you can do than to keep beating your head against a wall. Remember Einstein's definition of insanity.

It will rain on your parade.
     So....are you worried the float will melt?

Sometimes the best laid plans are best laid aside.
     That's ok, just don't become a hoarder. Recycle them, it's good for the soul and the earth.

Just because you "build it" doesn't mean they will come.
     Did you remember to send the invitations? Sometimes you just can't sit and wait for opportunity to knock but open the door and yell "Hey you! Over here!"

Only in the old western movies can you tell the good guys from the bad buys by the color of their hats.
     Maybe that's a good thing. We have to get to know people and not rely on first impressions.

Wisdom's Eyes and Hands

She has grown up. She doesn't think herself small. She can walk now. She is starting to talk. She is letting the world know what she wants and does not want. She laughs. She runs for hugs. She stands in front of strangers until they smile. She loves without fear. She never doubts that life will, with tender love, fill in the holes. She still looks out the window. She takes time to see.  

On the first day of 2011, I prayed to be so wise.

A year later, even more grown up and has found her voice, she looks with wonder into the Light determined to hold the Candle in her own hands.

On this day, may I too be as strong.

Absolution Walking Visible

There is a path I walk among the mountains and the lake that takes me to two different bends and two different trees. I call the trees my Orb Trees.  Like a little dog that hears the car of their owner pulling into the drive, my heart beats faster as I approach each tree.  I greet them with love and joy. I lean my body into their trunks and lay my face against their bark. With my eyes closed I can see colors of light. Sometimes the light takes a shape other times just brilliant light beaming through the dark of my eye lids.

                When I walked on the Eve of Eve, having been absent for a bit, I could not wait to melt into the Oneness and serenity of my precious Orb Trees. In nature I dissolve. Everything quiets, and I simply melt and feel only Nature. Yet, I knew from the first step I took upon the path, something was different this day. Having heard the yearning to simply re-member and BE who and what I Am I could sense that today would be different.  I leaned into each Orb Tree and felt my body against the trunk. It was a physical body, a human body leaning against a precious tree. Oh yes, I could feel the life of Nature, but for the first time, I felt my physical body and my bodymindspirit leaning against a tree.  There were not lights dancing. The absence of lights created a bridge of I and Thou. One with Nature but a gentle reminder that I, my Self, remains unique, an individual expression of All That Is. And as I breathed into each tree, I whispered, “Absolution.”

Continuing upon the path, faces returned with each step. Where the bruises and scars had spoken of endings, of should be’s becoming not to be’s the touch of the bark caressed my face, each bruise and each scar. Nothing, no thing had ended…All was, is as should be. There was no separation. There was nothing to forgive and move on from, either stronger or perhaps weaker from the lessons learned. There were no lessons. No need to melt into the Orb Trees where I felt safe from harm, accepted and One. The Orb Trees and I are surely One, but our Oneness is joined within All That Is. They remain trees and I remain human. Our expressions, our divine and innate creation, within All That Is, is our Oneness. And so it was with each face that returned bearing the mantle of forgiveness I had laid upon their shoulders.  Slowly I removed each mantle. Each unwrapping revealing his or her own light, their expression.  Their bark caressed my face as I leaned into him or her. Absolution.

Walking the path back to the car, I turned 360 and stood tall enough to see the mountain tops from the perspective of the clouds.  I could feel my presence becoming a bridge. I giggled, smiled, and whispered, "Let's go. It's time" and walked back visible.

This Day Christmas Eve

I believe in the grace of the baby lying in a manger. I believe in the power of the menorah to quench the darkness and radiate hope. I believe in the vision of a man named Buddha. I believe in the jolly red suited Santa. I believe in the Grinch whose heart grew three sizes. I believe in scrooge who kept Christmas in his heart every day. I believe in this sacred holiday we’ve carved into time. I believe in the hope, love and gathering of this time. I believe in the weariness this time casts as our hearts and energy disperse to loved ones, friends and strangers in need. I believe in those who work this holiday to service, protect and care for our needs.

 I believe that belief is seeing. I believe that belief is faith unseen. I believe that belief is a sense of knowing. I believe that belief is the voice in my head that says “On this day” and goes no further for I have but now. I believe that belief is the voice in my heart that says “On this day a child” and goes no further. For a child I will be, full of wonder and innocence and arms outstretched. I will have no prejudices, no judgments and no past. I will trust all who reach out, especially those in need. On this day. On this day a child. I believe in my soul it will remain, forever, Christmas Eve.

Landscape

To the boulders, mountains, pine and fir trees, I'm sure the leaf appeared small. But when it caught my attention, suddenly it became the entire landscape.

Today is the eve of an event, a day, a symbol that holds our attention.  But tis only a representation of the intention of Love and Hope, birth and becoming that begs to be free from a single calendar day. Perhaps that is why the symbol is a newborn....Life. Each day, each moment, each heartbeat.

No matter how small, if only a blink, what we place our attention upon becomes our landscape.  May the Sweet Hands of Life guide our eyes .....  Love.

Eve of Eve

About 3 am, my little dog demanded to go out NOW  and with only a t-shirt, sweat pants and no socks, the cold pre-dawn 19 degree wind whipped against my body and I bellowed a  'sweet mercy!' that made the stars and moon dance, causing me to squeal in joy and giggles.  I giggled to think of Christmas magic for a child. That one moment standing before the tree when the eyes and heart exploded in the squeal of joy.  I shall abide in that breathless moment....for the magic, the gifts, the joy and excitement are mine now, wrapped in my BEing.  The Essence of Love never makes us wait, tis ours now, this moment, every breath.  Oh sweet mercy, the gifts of breath, life, a beating heart, and joy are so precious... but tis the moment of awareness of their presence, the Present...that creates the magic squealing with joy. In that space I shall abide. Sweet mercy....rampant giggles.

Let the magic out! Release the joy of the Present wrapped in ribbons weaving throughout time and all dimensions. Let your squeal be heard and vibrate infinity!

 "Inside of everyone is a great shout of joy waiting to be born" ~ David Whyte

Essenceperience

It is perhaps something my mind does not want to ponder long, for then I would truly see the shadows of illusion. But my perception creates my reality. What I choose to focus (or not) upon becomes what is real, reality to me.  Yet if I look through the eyes of the All That Is, the Source of All, there is only one reality that is real...Love. Unconditional. Without judgment. Without differentiation. Without fear.

Timeless folds of Love without beginning, yet present today and without end. Today there is no thing to perceive save one... the experience of the Essence of All That Is..... Today, sweet Life may I Essenperience Love.

Tsp Revisited Bearing a Gift

I related my inability to cook in a July entry called Seesaw Wisdom .  I repost it here so you can follow the update.

My mother was obsessed with cleaning and her kitchen. No one could help her wash dishes or clean. Only she could make sure it was done correctly. And she most definitely did NOT teach her daughter how to cook.  I am 58 and I still do not know how to cook. The language of cooking is as foreign as the language of Martians. To get my Brownie badge, the one exception was made and I entered her sacred kitchen to make brownies from a boxed mix. The directions were quite clear- "50 strokes by hand." Hmmmm. Must be a reason you cannot use a spoon, it clearly says by hand. So...... squish...one..squish...two... My mother entered the kitchen and to her horror her daughter was mixing the batter, by hand.  Lesson over.  Later, regretting her lack of wisdom, she gave me a Barbie Easy Cook Book for children hoping I would learn to cook...I was in my 20's and living away from home.  I tried.  Finally in frustration I called her. She could tell I was mad.  I had been to every store, asked every clerk and no one, no ONE had tisp flour! How were you supposed to make the recipe if you could not get tisp flour! A long silence. Then in her ever so slow southern drawl, she asked me to read exactly what the recipe said (perhaps remembering the 50 strokes by hand).  I did.  Another looooonnng pause.  Quietly she informed me that "tisp" was an abbreviation for teaspoon - tsp. Not a brand or type. TSP mean teaspoon. Sigh...and giggle.

Tonight, Friday 12/21/12 - Perhaps the season, but my mama's presence would not leave me and created a desire for toast made in the "thing" (aka oven) with butter and cheese. Do not know why, but felt I needed to make.  Four phone calls later, finally found someone at home who told me what kind of pan to buy at the store and to call them back when ready. With phone on speaker, and yes, much laughter, they told me how to put the butter and cheese on the bread, and using the photo of the thing's (aka oven) knobs told me what to press and turn.  And then, quite exhausted from their laughter, told me to call later to make sure the house did not burn down.

And so there I sat, on the floor, with the light on so I could see. Have you ever watched bread turn into toast?  Folded cross legs holding my hands I squiggled and sat and watched it all happen.  No, there is nothing in the picture, the thing is empty...and yes I remembered to turn off the light.  I sat there looking into the empty cave of the thing, drinking my coffee and eating my mama's cheese toast and heard the thread.... perhaps that is Christmas .... daring to look beyond what has never been done, into the light with the eyes of a child.  Magic. Wonder. Giggles and sweet tears.

Merry Christmas mama.... thank you for the present.

Absorbing Absorption and Reflection

As I stood and gazed upon the street light beaming down upon the fresh snow fall, I was struck by the difference of the earth. Were not the snow there, only the stream of light would be seen and the earth would be shadowed in contours of black.  But with the snow, the earth reflected back the light and shadows now were hues of blue not black.  Absorption and reflection and yet one light, one earth.

And from such reverie I thought of my breath. The inhale as the earth, drawing in, absorbing, growing inward with the nourishment like the roots of trees.  The exhale, reflecting the light drawn in, extending outward and upward like the trees that are visible to our eyes.  My exhale moves upward through the earth, reaching outward, creating and changing space and time. It is presence. 

Absorption and reflection.  Sweet mercy, may the trees I exhale, the reflection I gift, be wide spanned branches of love.

Wish List

I watched a piece of Christmas wrapping paper dance with the wind down the street. The present, wherever, had been unwrapped.  I laughed to think of the colorful paper's dance as one seeking another gift to adorn.

And as I pondered the season and recent events, Christmas wish lists and letters to Santa, the dancing wrapping paper left thread.  But one gift, perhaps is all I need to ponder.  To gift to Life, Love, Source, God, Yahweh, Allah, the Expression and Life sought when the Divine spark was lit within me.  

I AM, all ARE, the wish list of Life, Love, Source, God, Yahweh, Allah, the Sacred.  Perhaps the wrapping paper flew off the gift of my heart.

Crescent Fullness

A pre-dawn reminder....perfect for the season and the season's season.

Tis only our position's perception that would make us think the moon is not full or that the Light is not always and All Ways complete and present.

Crescent Fullness