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.

Now's Dare

The whisper so simple and yet it startled. Would I think that Source, God, the Divine or Creator would be content or desire to be put on hold til tomorrow, some day when, or if only this? This moment, right now, perfect as it is and abundant in its gifts and awe. Not even the tree's bud felt it had to wait for spring.

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.

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.

Perfected Senses

This morning, well before dawn, I stood outside and witnessed the moon encircled by a cloud of light. A perfect circle of luminosity around Her own.  Such a pondering the sight gifted. 

Time is not running out or down. Time is timeless and cannot, is not owned or defined.  For 58 years I have never smelled a fragrance not even my precious coffee brewing or a flower, food has no taste nor have I breathed through my nose and my eyes they do not see. 

These are not statements of lack. We can insert any "sense" of what is "not." But as I sit and ponder the dawn's timelessness, the whisper of Love's perfection called. And with each bead of the mala, in Love's perfection I knew the fragrance of rain upon the grass, wet earth, a rose and tasted earth's abundance inhaling Her breath. The senses communicate to our body. Their Perfection, however, is embodied in Love.  

And as I looked at the moon within the circle, to hear the whisper “can you sense the sun?”

To remember I have “no time”…. I am, Life IS timeless.  To remember my senses are perfected IN Love.  And IN my Timelessness and Perfection, I am BeComing.

Harvest Pondered

I turn the calendar’s page and ponder the month.  October, the harvest month. Where we gather the hopes and dreams planted in the spring, patiently watched and prayed for during the summer.  A time to gather and work together. I ponder how communities of old would come together to bring in the harvest, always leaving some for those who had none and for nature’s own community to feast.  October, a time of anticipation.  And I recall the Hopi words of wisdom and look to the fields within my heart…. What shall be my harvest?  And what can I leave to give abundance to others? 

"You have been telling people that this is the Eleventh Hour, now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are things to be considered. . . . Where are you living? What are you  doing? What are your relationships? Are you in right relation? Where is your water? Know your garden. It is time to speak your truth. Create your community. Be good to each other. And do not look outside yourself for your leader. Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said, "This could be a good time! There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly. Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water. And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey come to a halt. The time of the one wolf is over. Gather yourselves! Banish the word 'struggle' from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we've been waiting for". ~ Hopi Indian Elder’s Prophecy

Precious Ripple

In the Vedanta, the question is asked how long a single life time is compared to eternity. Whatever concept one has of eternity, the vastness of time compared to the few seasons we walk upon the earth, make this walk seem but a blink in time. Perhaps no more than the first movement of a blink.  Yet, despite its brevity, we have eternity to think about how we spent the time and in some beliefs, return again to learn and complete what we ran from, feared, or at the time, gave no value.

An odd thread I know, but as I walked around the lake, I saw a middle aged man standing beneath the gazebo deck at the lake's edge. Hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the fountains streaming upward, cascading showers of droplets and ripples dancing upon the glassy lake surface.  He did not move. He was a perfect statue of hope seeking an answer. You could feel the weight on his shoulders, you could see his jaws were locked. He simply stared into the fountain. Four laps he did not move. While on the fifth he moved to his car at the crest of the hill where I turn. A quick gaze saw him sitting, hands on the steering wheel, eyes fixed again upon the fountain. Whatever the weight, whatever the answer he was seeking, he had left it in the breathing fountain of water and ripples.

Each step I took, each gaze upon the dancing wind blown leaves and the mountain peak, I wished him peace. As I saw him drive away, I sat down at the edge of the lake. With the whisper of "peace" I cast a stone in and watch the water leap upward and the ripples dance. Another stone and whisper of "harmony" and again the lake leaped upward and the ripples danced.  A third stone and whisper of "laughter" and the lake leaped even higher. A final stone and the whisper of "love" almost reached the fountain and its ripples scampered to those created by the fountain.

The length of a person's life upon the earth is but a tiny ripple in eternity.  Yet, eternity created us and gifted us this life, this precious ripple.  As eternity casts her pebbles of peace, harmony, laughter and love, may the ripple of my life, and the stranger's who drove away with his answer, leap to the sky and scamper to join those of the Fountain. 

Reality TV

Time is relative. It is a function and reflection of the priorities we have given to our heart.


It is the ultimate candid camera that never shuts off, Reality TV showing the world who we are.


How we use our time - or not - speaks louder than words, is the way we touch the world and others. Each tick a bread crumb saying this is the path I have chosen, this is the path to my heart.