Mirror Eyes

Our eyes seem magnetically drawn to mirrors and windows to see ourselves as the world would see. In their absence we even ask others, "Does this look ok?" The morning walk to awaken and see my eyes the mirrors and windows of Life and others. And to ponder, the reflection my eyes gifted to nature and the reflection gifted back to others. "Look sweet earth! Look stranger and friend! This is the beauty you behold!" Sweet mercy, yes, my eyes the mirror of nature's and another's precious soul.

Child to Child

We cherish the moments we walk with a child. Hands holding soft but firm. We adjust our stride to meet theirs. We look for danger. We give them strength but encourage their own. Time passes so slowly and life fills abundant and gentle. We change our voice so it is soft, gentle and encouraging. We remember how to laugh. We remember how to see. We notice. We listen. All because we walk with a child. Would that in all our walks, whatever the age of the one we are with, we would see the child. And with a soft whisper, reach out our hand, and say, “Come walk with me.”

Grace of Soft

It seems sometimes that so much of what we see, reactions, conversations, beliefs, media, whatever, challenges even the most determined heart too remain soft. So much easier, it would seem, to just go with the "flow." But... still....

This morning a whisper to go and walk and take my little bag of corn meal. To walk, not in nature, but along the busy streets as commuters frantically rushed to work. You could see their eyes and faces, even the way they held the steering wheel. As they passed a whisper of 'soft.'   

After a bit I came to a large cemetery with patches of trees untouched, and little winding paths. Wandering through their maze, I came upon a pile of tree trunks, branches, and trees that had been cut and tossed out of sight. Standing and thinking of all the clearing to create such an area, I noticed a cloth flower from the cemetery had somehow found its way through the trees and rested upon the pile of weathered limbs and trunks.  A gentle branch held it in place. The ritual of leaving corn meal is a Native American tradition - when something from the earth is taken, corn meal is left as a gift of thanks. Kneeling I sprinkled my corn meal and offered my gift of thanks to the flower. 

A different kind of flow. One I can live with. I know many don't understand. Simply the grace of soft. 

Soft Strength

and she danced......

A giggle picture, not art, but it is the dance. My right stutter hand held the left and taught her how to hold a brush.  May we all create the art of finding soft strength.

“There is some kiss we want with

our whole lives, the touch of

spirit on the body. Seawater

begs the pearl to break its shell. ....

…. Breathe into me.  Close the language- door and open the love window. The moon

won't use the door, only the window. “

~Rumi

To not see a Robin

Looking out the window I saw a Robin sitting on top of the bird feeder.  That is odd, as Robins usually feed only on the ground.  The Robin hopped to the feeder and I laughed to see its wings as I told him he needed to avoid hopping beneath paint ladders since his wings were splotched with white.  My laughter made me realize the Robin was not a Robin.  The Internet can be a wonderful tool for a curious one such as me.  Using a web site I discovered my Robin was in fact, a Black-Headed Grosbeak. No easy task with my eyes. But I wanted to know, it was important enough to struggle to see.  It made me smile to have a different bird.  It made me smile to know his name. 

And, as I do, it made me ponder how I look at people.  Do I take the same time and energy to overcome to “know” their name, to know little things that reveal who they are? To see they are not just another Robin, to see what makes them unique?  Carl Rogers, a humanist psychologist believed there were only three things required to help an individual psychology heal- genuineness, deep sincere empathy and the utmost regard or acceptance.  If the counselor provided, was, and offered those three things to their client, the client would self-heal.  Note-advice and direction are not one of the three.  Imagine what the world would be like if, in our everyday lives, we approached others in the same way.  What if I felt and acted upon the same curiosity and pleasure about discovering who another is as I did with the Robin turned Black-Headed Grosbeak?  Ugh….what if I did the same with myself?

One of the most satisfying experiences I know is fully to appreciate an individual in the same way I appreciate a sunset. When I look at a sunset...I don't find myself saying, 'Soften the orange a little more on the right hand corner, and put a bit more purple along the base, and use a little more pink in the cloud color...' I don't try to control a sunset. I watch it with awe as it unfolds. – Carl Rogers