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.

Dribbling Now

An image shared the other day returned with such delight and a twist. And if I say I love hot dogs and later say I love you....Would you see yourself squeezed between two buns and smothered in ketchup, mustard and relish? Or would you see the abandon and playfulness I experience eating a hot dog, and the joy of dribbling mustard and ketchup as I forego convention and immerse in the delight of the experience, this moment fully lived and alive with you?

To Turn not Run

Sometimes when I read world events or others share the pain inflicted in their lives, I do confess my heart feels despair. I do not understand cruelty. This morning the sounds of nature gifted Kabir's words that we do not have to run and seek gardens to see a flower, the gardens and flowers are all contained within our hearts.

I flinched...giggle. My heart too contains cruelty? Eeek. But yes, it does. All hearts are one. All life within. And as I opened my eyes the sun rested upon a single flower stem and I laughed. Oh yes, to acknowledge and be mindful of the ability to hurt, but to choose what I focus upon. To see the flower bent towards the sun and the tiny buds waiting to unfold and know the touch. A twist upon Kabir's words to think I do not have to run from or seek either. I have only to turn towards the sun. Today, today, I shall leave sun warmed pink petals for all and nurture the tiny bud within. A grand day indeed!

True Voice

In joy and pain I have sat with others, and myself, and wondered what could I possibly say? Words seem so bulky. Then in the silence to know only the gift of 'thank you' to the little heart that feels and in truth, tis the only voice I need.

So May My Eyes

In the midst of winter's gray, a brown leaf, lifeless, by all accounts, and ready to return its form back to the earth. And yet its image brought me to a complete stop. Lifeless? Colorless or at the least drab? Crumpled and fragile? The sun's gentle touch thought otherwise and illuminated its beauty. So may the light of my eyes upon all life.

Unnoticed Day

That our hearts and love were such that this day would go unnoticed. Simply another day of love's outpouring.

The Gift Received

Have you ever seen a ghost from the past? An image of one long ago who could not, should not be there as you drive past but you know, believe, that the image is not a ghost? How quickly our minds and brains engage and flood all senses and emotions. Time loses its boundaries and there all is once again.

I sat on my cushion and pondered the ghost. Gently I whispered “I welcome you fear. I welcome you courage. I welcome you love. I welcome you pain. I welcome all that is right now and all that was.” A while back I wrote that no one leaves holes in our hearts, they are but kneeling prints where a gift was laid. Did the ghost carry that same belief?

Perhaps I am at last the perfection they once dreamed. Perhaps the failures were only perceived. More likely, and in truth, I am the person I am now. There is no forgiveness necessary. There is only absolution. I simply am me and the me I am has been shaped by the ghost.

I opened my eyes in time to see a feather dance its way to the ground. A gentle smile and I went outside to retrieve. As I approached, the feather the playful wind scooped it up. The feather danced away. A gentle tear of joy and my hands went to my heart. I bowed in grace. I bowed in joy. I bowed as I am. No need to chase….the gift had long ago been received.

Nurture embedded

The image of the tree is embedded in the leaf. What was to be became and now is. The image true to its source yet the leaf is unlike the tree. The leaf is unlike all other leaves. With winter's rhythm both leaf and embedded source will return to nurture what is to be, what has become, and what will be.

May all see the image of Life and Love embedded in my presence and uniquely expressed. And may each breath, word, thought, and deed be as giving as the tree held within the leaf.

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."

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.

Heart Bell

image from google: www.panoramio.com

On this Eve of ringing bells and ringing in, I sit with the whispered image of my heart as a giant bell. To whisper back to the image, "may all beings, all life, all forms know their hands hold the rope." To hear the infinite vibration and resonance ringing forth no matter the touch or pull. My heart beat but the bell dancing back and forth in joy and love. No resolution. Just the awareness and longing of what is...the heart bell and rope of humanity.

Twists of Praise

This morning a whispered prayer that I might always and in all ways see something new in all I meet. That I might offer a gift of praise and thanks for their being. People are like my precious trees...always a new twist, bend, texture, or touch of light but you have to pause and see...not let fly by unnoticed.

A Day to Dance

Like the gentle dance of incense offering sweet joy to all, may your day effortlessly and peacefully flow.  May all the gifts be wrapped in ribbons of arms hugging the lovable and unloved, wrapping paper of gentle sincere smiles, and inside a beating, precious open heart of acceptance, joy, and a life alive.

Heart Light

"We know you always thought our houses small. We thought the same thing when we were your age and someone was always stepping on our toes. We know you always thought so much food a waste. We thought the same thing too when we were your age. Yes, in a world where so many are hungry it could seem that way. But when family is brought together and not for a funeral, I think perhaps our exuberance might be excused. Everyone is so busy with their lives, except for funerals, Christmas was the only time everyone would gather in one place, in our house, that seemed small. Yes, we know you didn't want clothes, but it was a way to hug you, long after the toys were put away. And yes, we remember your confused look when three different "Santas" gave you the same toy truck with horses. We blamed the elves. Thank you for never questioning even though we think that is when you grew up and learned a different kind of Christmas magic. Remember the magic, and the houses that seemed so small."

Thank you sweet morning for precious heart lights.

Why of What

I read and re-read the response – “What for?” The thread would not let go. They did not ask “why?” Is there a difference between “why?” and “what for?” Searching for the difference, “what” asks which thing or which particular one of many.” “Why” asks for what purpose, reason, or cause; with what intention, justification, or motive. “What” felt like an object or something expected to be received in exchange. “Why” went to the heart and mind and asked the source of the intent.

This time of the year especially, “what” abounds. Unless the gift disappoints the “what” no one asks “why.” Do we open “why” or “what”? Do we buy “what” or “why”? Can “what” oppose “why”?

I bowed my head and smiled. Wanting to respond truthfully to the question asked of me and the question I asked myself, I typed “love.” And with a silent pause, my fingers returned to the keyboard and typed “giggle.”

Without a Knock

My favorite and often whispered phrase "sweet mercy." Not something earned or worked for. Not something bestowed as a gift nor even something we give away. Its only entourage is our breath and heart beat. Like a giggle, it arouses our awareness and reminds us of simple joy. Entering our being with our first breath it waits to bud before the last. It is patient and undemanding quietly moving to the end of the line of our grasping, clinging, if only's and this and that. It will not leave us. It simply waits...sweet, sweet, sweet mercy of life. Giggle, ain't it grand!

Tis.

Tis. A word without judgment, without a single what if, could be, should be, or if it were. It is not complacent. It is the power of the keystone, the gap, the fulcrum between the inhalation and exhalation. A reminder that we cannot simply inhale nor can we only exhale. Written backwards it is the reminder to sit. It is the raising of the heart's chalice and toast of L'Chaim! ...with no if, or, nor, or but.

On this day of winter's solstice may we all know winter's transforming fire of tis. And when the solstice's night quilts our sleep, may we whisper twas and release.

Heart Exchange

The image is of my little four legged fur angel, Dibley. I did not "buy" her. I had been thinking of getting a dog to replace one I had recently lost. I worked for a rescue group and we were called in to a puppy mill that was going out of business. Whatever dogs/puppies we did not take would be killed. With so few fosters and the condition of the dogs/puppies, we were to take only those that had the best chance of survival. We were not allowed to say a word or speak of the conditions we saw. And there she was...a little puppy so small my hand was bigger than her. Scruffy and shallow breathing, the director of the group shook her head “no,” there were others who had a much better chance.

Being the rebel hobbit I am, I slipped her into my coat pocket, and she is my delight and heart five years hence. Her lack of early nutrition harmed her little brain and body in some ways, but no greater heart or softer eyes have I ever known. She sits in my lap so very quiet when I meditate and knows when the gong is heard it’s time for kisses.

She is my reminder that all that comes into our lives has a chain linked to others and the earth. We do not BUY things, pets, or love... all we bring into our lives is an exchange of the heart.

Threat of Love

On Monday a most glorious walk in nature. So peaceful and quiet except for the bulldozers and dump trucks working on the upper trail. I was able to tune them out except for one moment when the bulldozer went barreling down the path with its beeping back up sound blaring so loudly. I confess, I was miffed.

Yesterday on my walk the driver of the dump truck stopped beside me. He asked if I had been walking Monday afternoon with my dog. When I said yes he began to tell me he and the bulldozer driver watched from above as two coyotes were stalking behind my dog and I. They got within a hundred yards and went down into a crouched stalk walk. What I had interpreted as an unthinking driver of a bulldozer speeding too fast on the trail was their attempt to scare the coyotes away. It worked.

The same coyotes that thrill my heart, that I have seen on the path and offered blessings, were also a threat. How can that be? Nature is my sanctuary, my home. It is the chanting of my heart. Each tree, shrub, and drought hardened piece of earth I walk upon are honored and treasured, as are the coyotes. With my eyes I would never see such a threat. And so I smile as I write. My diminishing sight has taught me to see with my heart. Oh yes, I will be vigilant and not foolish. But I will also not accept fear. To love is to open to loss. To climb a mountain is to accept you will also slip and fall.  The gift of diminished sight is the clarity that the path is not meant to be smooth. It is, truly and simply, perfect imperfection. It is the “threat” of love…an open heart.

Karios Magic

The plane was packed on Christmas Eve. The line of passengers and luggage stuffed in the overheads made me think of clowns in a circus stuffing themselves into a tiny car. A young woman paused to let her child sit between she and I. I smiled but no recognition was returned. Their coats were too thin for the winter. Her very presence, coughing, watery eyes and flushed face painted the image of a mother not feeling well. She all but collapsed in her seat. The little one's excitement was quickly met with a stern "Be quite!" I stared out the window as the plane rolled across the runway and then to see the earth get smaller and smaller.

Glancing at the mother I saw she had fallen asleep. The little one clutched her toy, eyes fixed forward and tears rolling down her cheek. I nudged her with my elbow and smiled. Hesitant she just stared. For the next hour we played silently with her doll and magical creatures we created with my gloves. The coffee stirrer became a magic wand. A napkin became a cape and her doll learned to fly. Only a few soft whispers were exchanged. As the plane landed the little one's eyes looked up with such wonder and awe I almost cried. The mother took her hand and wearily said "Let's go." I gathered one of her bags to hand to her and in her hand I pressed all the Christmas cash I had brought me. With a wink to the little one, I waved the magic stirrer. To this day I still hear her giggle. There a moments now, over 4 decades later, that when I open my wallet I still see her eyes.

We can think of time as chronos - linear, always rushing forward ticking away seconds we cannot get back. Or, we can think of time as karios - the pregnancy of the moment filled with opportunity, possibility, love, and being. The picture attached looks like a magical forest. Or, you could see the truck that passed by stirring dust upon my body and in my eyes. Our journeys require different eyes and different ways of measuring time. The forest IS magical. A 60 minute plane ride has spanned 4 decades. A plastic stirrer still makes my heart laugh with magic. Today, may you hear only the ticking of karios and know the magic of time filled with presence, love, an open heart, and possibility. The magic of karios.