Whispered Touch

The journey still incomplete. Ten minutes from landing, the plane had to return to where we boarded. The weather would not permit us to land. Perhaps it is fitting that instead of being home tomorrow, when I celebrate six decades upon this earth, I shall be in airports, planes, and a two hour drive home...if we land. I confess my shoulders fell and a few tears ran down my cheeks when the pilot informed us.

Standing in awe at the tree in front of an unexpected hotel layover, I noticed the leaves. Even more amazing the wispy white roots of the tree. Life. Signs of winter, fall, and even spring. Wispy roots reaching out to touch the sun while others are buried deep within the earth. Arrivals can be departures. Departures can be arrivals. Turn arounds can be a wide open roadway. Layovers can be a bountiful buffet of stillness and new sights. To seek the path of a life alive and open heart is not to expect all detours to vanish all obstacles to disappear. It is simply to see the colors and rhythm, and even the roots of a might oak peaking out and whisper, "All is well. All is well." And so it is. Sweet mercy it is.

Feathered Migration Home...Again

The journey is complete. I return back to my mountains and little hobbit house tomorrow. Nature had been sweet and gifted me ten feathers. Having met the amazing hearts of my peers I returned nature's gifts by gifting each one, all ten to my peers. Each feather was received with such a gentle soft heart and eyes.

Saying goodbye to the river front and city lights I turned to walk back to the room as the sun bid good night to the day and the journey. The sea gull's cry made my heart dance. I knew the whisper. Looking down, was a feather of my own. In giving we truly do receive so much more, I would not have returned empty handed. But nature had one more feather that would travel with me. A gentle whisper, though the dream has been realized, the flight has just begun. A new path awaits. Like the migrating geese, I am going Home.

Mirror Hearts- No Story Required

Sometimes an image gifts so many whispers to my little heart. I confess this is one. Each rotation of the image created a different whisper, affirmation, and heart thread. At last I settled upon this view. Neither image or reflection tops the other. They are, in truth, parallel bridges of time and life.

The panhandler walked away $20 richer. A stranger approached me and said "You know his story was a scam." Smiling I turned toward the stranger, with this image firmly fixed in my heart. With gentle eyes I met his own and with a soft voice replied "Oh I don't care about the story, just the man."

Affirmed Affirming Healing

In that one moment all paths merged into one. No past. No future. No journey getting here. No journey remaining to get somewhere else. Quietly, with such simple ease, my heart sighed.  I knew I had not returned home. I had become home. All that had come before and all that awaits will find an open door and the welcome mat of Now.

I will not change the name, it is indeed precious. But in that one moment when the heart sighed, the whisper was heard, "Affirmed Affirming Healing."

More AND enough

Wondering how I would gather it all in. How to gather the random threads and see the tapestry that awaited. It seemed overwhelming and somewhat daunting. I paused and looked down to see the small acorns gathered round the oak tree. How small they looked. Indeed, how fragile. And yet, like a mother, the oak tree seemed to have gathered them together. "Look little ones, look and see. Tis more than what you are, and yet that is enough. You must see with the eyes of the seed, the eyes of the roots, and the eyes of the sun. Look little ones, tis more than what you are now, and yet, that is exactly what is necessary to become."

Completion

I stood with the buffeting wind pondering the long day. Away from nature's sanctuary, a strange city. Dazzling lights, though beautiful, hid the natural glimmering of the stars. "Breathe. Breathe." I missed my mountains. I missed the stillness and quiet. Closing my eyes I listened to the whisper to simply breathe. Lifting my head towards the sky I opened my eyes. Greeting me softly was the image you see. I am sure those walking passed me wondered what was so funny as I laughed out loud. There, beside one longing for nature's soft cradle, was the very thing I sought but did not see. A simple tree singing with the wind.

Was it the trees I longed for? The chorus of leaves? Or perhaps simply to breathe and know the end of desire and longing, was both birthed and completed within me.

Neither Up Nor Down-Simply There

Sometimes I do smile at Life's sense of gentle humor. How often to think a change of perspective is needed. Yesterday, as the plane flew so many thousands of feet in the air, I looked out and there were my precious mountains waving above the clouds. So many days, looking up, I stood in awe at how they pierced the clouds. That moment, looking down, not up, the vision was the same. 

Sometimes we try to over analyze, sometimes to think a change is needed, sometimes to ask "Oh please life grant more clarity!" And there stood the mountains, the same whether looking up or looking down. A gifted smile, to know strength, awe, beauty, and courage are so constant. No digging, no clinging or discarding, no effort required. To trust the instinct within the heart.... it is there my child, right now, where and as you are.

True Art

I did not know what to say when her tears fell and then my own to see the pain. I only knew each tear was a thread uniting all in the tapestry of Life. The fear was but Love's palette spilled of its richness upon the canvas of the heart. And both were framed in silence sung.

Dark's Light

Sometimes the dark, even when looking at a dream, makes us long for just a bit more light. We think more light would give clarity. What you cannot see in the image, is how once the artificial car lights were turned off, the brilliance of the sunset upon the lake and mountains exploded. In truth, I wasn't in the dark at all.

Exposure Nailed

Life always nails us. The big nails somehow seem to wake us up. The little nails either go unnoticed because we've become numb to the pain or we fail to notice the gift. Either way, when we're nailed we bleed.

What is interesting is that our blood is not red until it is exposed to air, to the outside world. The essence and flow of our life changes when exposed.

Removing the rock from my shoe and rubbing the bloody blister made, the dance of the sun caught my eye. The rock, though little, was as much a part of the mountain as the big boulders. In fact, the boulders, even the mountains would fall were it not for all the little rocks that hold them in place. I placed the rock bearing a dab of red not blue blood back upon the trail side. Life always nails us. Bowing to the dance of sun and tree, I whispered the welcome for all nails and rocks to expose and transform what is inside of me. To see not nails or rocks, but the ladders, support, and mountains they create and sustain.

Gift of Within

The truth is, no one will ever truly know the beauty of our heart. No one will ever know the strength, the courage, the love, and wisdom. Nor can we truly know theirs. But the beauty and joy in that truth is that when we look and see, the world, life and love itself is made alive. We look within so that the without is blessed.

Union's Garden

Doubt is but the resistance of the soil to the seed. Life is their union.

Done.

When I think of the litany of items about my body I would change I have but to look and realize there is only one. That I might have the eyes of my sweet companion or those of a child. Eyes that say "I am totally present with you, accept you, love you.....come let's play!" With eyes like that nothing else really matters. It is how I would see the world and the gift of beauty I would give.  Perhaps the true beauty of such eyes, is there whisper and mirror...the eyes are indeed mine. Giggle mark the desire and prayer done.

The Certainty of a Limp

When osteoporosis fractured both knees I was confined to a wheel chair for three months. Me, a hobbit who walks and walks like a sandpiper scurrying along the beach. But I knew I would walk and accepted the distraction of walking with my hands and wheels. I walk with a limp, the mountain rocks, inclines, and descent make the knees quiver trying to hold, but they have learned to laugh. Belief is something you were told. Faith, ahhhhh faith, is something you just know.

Passing Through

I am a snob! Oh the realization was horrific and my little heart sunk. I who treasure my tender open little heart stood face to face with the realization. It was not kind.

The morning shower was too hot. A brisk recognition and then I simply turned the knob. My shirt was turned wrong side out. I giggled to notice and turned it right side out. My little dog had run off with my socks. I laughed to play tag and saw her eyes sparkle with joy.  I came into the den and thought it dark. The power was out. My longed for coffee had not brewed nor was the internet available. I muttered and harumpf’d to think this the start of my day. The power returned with an email that sucked the remaining non-harumpf’d breath out. That was when I realized I am a snob.

I had placed life’s challenges in a hierarchy – worthy and unworthy of mindfulness, worthy and unworthy of my open precious little heart. Was not each one worthy of my heart’s greeting? Was not each challenge worthy of my attention and desire to learn? Does not each one create trust and openness for all challenges to come? I pondered my cringe when I see others negate the worth of other people. Do not the challenges, lessons, and speed bumps of life deserve to be welcomed with equanimity and grace? For if I cannot embrace and welcome them, could my heart truly open and embrace the lives of others who in truth, are but lessons of the same? Are not both just passing through?

Brevity's Sustenance

How could I ever doubt that this day is a gift? That even the brevity of this joy would not be the sustenance of the day?

Warrior Child

Sometimes I feel like such a restless child, held down, sssshhhhh'd and told to sit still. I want to run without a care, laughing, arms flinging and legs tangling til I fall. There is a time for polite and attentive listening. There is a time for silence and learning. But there is a time for play. Band-Aids are available. Grass and mud stains will be bleached. They are the scars of a warrior child released.

Beginning and Been

I ponder the many changes. I confess like the monkey, with his hand stuck in the jar clinging to the treat, there is the urge to hold on and not release, keeping my hand stuck in the jar. And then the whisper of "beginning again...but all has been."

Is not the sun at noon, unnoticed, perhaps uninteresting, the same sun that rises and sets with such magnificence and grandeur? And yet, it is not. The same for millions of years and in the time the words were typed it has changed. The tides of my emotions, growth, and understanding have all been felt by others since life began. And yet they are uniquely mine.

Perhaps that is the thread and whisper. Like the breath I begin again yet all has been. To greet the familiar of today like an old old friend and leave the door open for the friend yet to meet. 

Blessing Placed

A dusting of snow upon the drought hardened earth. The sweet earth, her creatures, plants, trees, and thin lakes and rivers will be given a drink. I pray for more, the thirst and hunger is great. Trusting nature and Life I listen for the rhythm.

With a giggle I place the shell upon the snow. That which knew life as nothing but water rests upon that which  craves each drop. And then the whisper that when I too may feel out of place, perhaps my experience is simply Life's own blessing placed, saying "I too believe in you."

Six Inches of Awakening

It is such a simple thing to wake up in the morning. I know well dark nights where perhaps a thought maybe the morning will not come. I know well the mornings where my eyes open and the world is a fresh mystery, untouched, an absolute purity, clean and open armed.

 I know well the work days where I would toddle off to a corporate meeting breathing the amazing energy of life. I would enter the room and WHAM the energy within would singe me like the open flamed hearth I imagine at steel mills. I would step back outside the door and feel the cool peace. Step back through and feel the fiery negativity. I would ponder those tiny six or so inches separating awareness into two diverse and tangible experiences. I confess, giggle, there were times I thought to do an about face, turn the other way and beg forgiveness later.

The first people the Buddha met after his enlightenment asked if he was a god or what. Buddha replied he was neither. He simply said “I am awake.”  Perhaps that is the thread of waking up in the morning - those tiny six inches or so separating my chosen experience. I can turn on my heels and not enter the portal of life as it is. I can enter as I am awake and open. To see the morning and everyone I meet, the must do, would like to do, breath and emotion as those tiny six inches. To breathe and whisper quietly, sweet mercy yes, thank you, I am and will be awake.

Frozen Dancer Dancing

I sat on the canyon's bank and listened to the thin river dancing below. I knew the river had to be fed, but after all this time did not know from where. Giving my thanks I stood to leave. The sun whispered and drew my eyes. There, never seen before, after all these many many walks was the source. Hidden in the shrubs and swells of earth I had never seen til now. It took the dance of sun, ice, and snow for me to see.

A frozen source, stilled in time. And yet the river danced and sang. Frozen in appearance. Choreographed by the drought hardened earth.  A dancing singer to observe and hear. I giggled. A most most perfect way to see this day, this new glorious year and life.

Being's Beauty and Strength

New calendars have replaced the old. I smile to think each month, day, minute, and breath are in fact the beginning of a new year. No need to wait.

A whisper gave me pause as I walked in nature. The stillness and quietness rumbled like a rolling tympani. I did not realize how much sound my footsteps made. In the quiet I turned to see the image. And the whisper of the beauty and strength of being.

Blessings to all, this sweet earth and life.