Moving Day

Moving day.  I have watched the squirrels gather twigs and scamper off to the nests they must be building. I have watched the quilted clouds pull back the covers and play peek-a-boo with the blue sky.  I have sat and given thanks for this sacred space where my scriches have posted. I have given thanks to you who have stopped to read. You have been the rhythm of nature for my little heart and I am graced.

 As I move my little musings to their new home I leave a poem by Mary Oliver. May it be my little blessing for each of you.  If you ever should pause and wonder what difference you make in life, be assured your question has been profoundly answered by the grace and kindness you have gifted me. With a deep bow, my hands to my heart thank you.

A new Facebook page has been created: https://www.facebook.com/whispered.grace. My hope is that you will share your own simple joys and whispers. Yes, please.

My simple little musings will now post to http://www.whisperedgracebook.com/. If you have subscribed by email, you can do so there as well.

Moving day….. the journey continues.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Mary Oliver, Dream Work, Grove Atlantic Inc., 1986 & New and Selected Poems, Beacon Press, 1992.

Heart Transformer

I was reading Thich Nhat Hahn’s words this morning of transforming the past. But are we not told we cannot undo the past? The past is transformed by how we respond to it in this moment, the present, now.  That thread led me to ponder how a baby learns to walk. They do not see the thuds and plops back to the earth their shaky legs create. Oh, there may be tears, bruises and owies, but sometimes they even laugh. Either way, they begin again. Something inside calls them to walk and they do. Today, I walk here and there without even giving it a thought. I am here and suddenly I am there and never do I recall the bumps, bruises, thuds, and plops of learning to walk. The past transformed in the present, this moment, now. Tis a whisper easily dismissed as the challenges today seem far greater than simply learning to walk. But if we truly knew and appreciated the intricacy of the muscles, brains, and total restructuring of how we see, move, and think that occurs when we learn to walk, is the difference that great?

The whisper made me sigh and then suddenly I thought of the orchid bud and wondered if it had opened. Had the bud learned to walk? Had the bud transformed the past of simply a seed and a bump into a gorgeous flower? And there she was. Oh yes, more opened than yesterday but today a gift I did not expect. My dog thought an intruder had come into the house; such was my squeal of delight. And then I simply sat and stared. Transforming the past in this moment now, is imprinted with and within the heart.

A Dream Goes to Sleep

What do you do when a dream dies? Can a dream die? Does waking up put a dream to sleep? Today, officially when I press “post,” a dream will have died or gone to sleep. Sometimes metaphors escape me. Winter’s trees are starting to bud.  For now, they stand naked, vulnerable; some would even call them stark. You can see their broken, bent, and misshaped branches.  One could even say, against the blue sky they stand with a dignity spring and the glory of autumn will never know.

My journey has been like winter’s trees. Unlike the dignity with which they stand, I preferred to hide in the canopy of spring. I have written of nature’s whispers, the simple joy of being alive, and the wonder of this gift called life. I am, very much, a simple child at heart.  It has been a journey of affirming healing long sought. The losses have been great both personally and collateral damage. And still, with childlike trust I keep walking the path and gathering the tapestry’s threads.

One whisper, one thread I could not hide from or ignore. And so, today, like winter’s naked trees, in one fell swoop the canopy of spring is disrobed.  The disrobing is swift as I tell any who may pause to read, that my little heart has put her whispers in a small wee book called Whispered Grace. Simple scriches. Some you have read here. A website/blog has been created and launched today:  http://www.whisperedgracebook.com/

I do not know how to or if I will continue to use the two blogs or migrate to one. How does one leave a home like this that has been my sanctuary and mantra…affirming healing. My hope would be somehow a Facebook or page where others can record the whispers they hear during the day, to describe their own winter and spring tree dance. I began this space so that others would know they were not alone. The path, is in truth, well worn. Logistics are logistics. I only know today a dream has died or gone to sleep. For though I wrote so that others would know they were not alone, I dreamed I could remain alone and hidden, not even using my name to identify the one who posted.

And so….. Hello. My name is Beth Chapman. I like to walk in nature. Sometimes nature whispers gifts of hope. Sometimes nature makes me laugh. I am so far from perfect you’d probably shudder but I try. Sweet mercy I do try. I have been on a long long journey dreaming I could stay hidden and out of sight. And so I step out and offer my heart like nature’s winter trees. I know my writings seem childlike and sometimes see joy and possibility in a world that would say naught. But still I believe. Still I trust. Still I laugh in awe and delight. And still I know none of us are alone. Now, to live awake with healing affirmed in whispered graces. Hello… my name is Beth Chapman and I've written a wee tiny book that I dreamed could not, would not ever happen. Another dream put to sleep. And my heart is laughing.

With hands to my heart and bowing deeply, Namaste.

Trail of Joy

And let it be known, that yes, I join the trees in their dance of life. May all others join who travel upon the trail of my life.

Present Presence

Nature has never failed to delight my heart when I go and seek her sanctuary. Sometimes, though, when I just go to go without asking or needing, those are the times I notice...she has a seat waiting for me. May I always have eyes to see Life's welcome.

Life in Totality

I was pondering the preciousness of the moment as it was, the simple abundant moment of now. There is nothing I can do to change the past. The future cannot be held. All I have is this one moment. To meet it fully alive and aware. Looking up, there she was. The grace of the moon mid afternoon beautifully haunting against the blue sky. The illumination of dark sharing the illumination of day. With a smile and chuckle, what better image of meeting life in its totality, this moment, now.

Future Attraction

I wonder if my reliance on my GPS has spoiled me. Sometimes the path plays tricks on our eyes when we try so hard to see. We seek clarity, a road map, points of interests and warnings of construction ahead, a voice saying our exit is 300 feet ahead. Though I admit, I have no idea what 300 feet looks like when driving.

Sometimes what you see just doesn't make sense, or perhaps it is only a peak of what is. The photo is untouched, it is what I saw. And like the path, I have to laugh and trust what I saw is a future attraction waiting to reveal.

Diamonds

For those who have endured such a winter, a meager and already melting half inch of snow is not exactly breaking news. But here where the mountains have been shrouded in dust, last night gifted rare and precious diamonds. Even the droplet contained a lake. Abundance.

I can see so many metaphors of life. I can see so many ways to take this droplet and weave it into my moving through life. But this morning, this drop, this diamond waiting to fall upon the waiting earth is simply that. To appreciate and give thanks for a droplet as it is.

Setting Day

Setting days. That's what my grandmother called them. Can't say you've done much and yet the day was full. Like noticing how the shadow of a tree resting upon the side of a house bends as it lays down on the roof. Or watching a raven call out to others that the seed has been served. Is it the same raven each day? A different raven? I cannot tell them apart. Would that I were gifted to notice this raven as distinct from others. I cannot and yet he or she is. I need to practice. Maybe that's what setting days are all about. Noticing what you can and noticing what you can't. But setting equals noticing. I guess that, in the end, is what makes the day full. Yes grandma, it is sweet.

Clarity to See

I, who am never far, if ever, from my camera, passionately avoid all photos of self. But the email inquired as to how my failing eyes were doing and after giggling I could not resist. I know as long as they gift the sight of compassion I shall have clarity. For what is 20/20 if I cannot see the heart, pain, joy, and potential in either myself or another? And so I attached the picture with a little happy face icon and replied... Boo! I see you.

A Smile Alive

Have you ever felt your face smile?

I fed the birds and came inside hoping the promised light snow would come and coat the drought hardened earth that had known only the shroud of blowing dust. I don't remember walking to the window, but there I was. I saw the birds hopping and fluttering around the feeder. And suddenly I felt my face smile. I could feel every muscle move, the eyes change and the body melt. Visceral and sensual as if another had touched my body, I felt the smile. No explanation needed. And the snow began to fall.

May I so Push

The morning greeting to the plants in the sun room and to turn on their gentle music for the day. As the curtains were pulled I explained had lots to do would not be able to sit and chat right now. Deadlines were awaiting. A gentle whisper to pause and look. An orchid's bud pressed against the stem. Sitting down, I did not rise until an hour later. To do what I must, push where required, but always to do so with the gentle strength of an unopened bud.