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.

Gather no more

"I've asked for forgiveness. I've owned my wrongs. But how can I ever undo all that I've done?" Her question still rings in my heart. I could only reply that we cannot undo. To try is to become immersed in quicksand. We can only go forward in love and gather no more. "But what if the consequences come back to haunt me?" There may be consequences but love and acceptance know no ghosts.

A stranger's question. A stranger's reply. Why I leave this here I am not sure. Another thread perhaps in the tapestry that knows there are no strangers when the heart seeks to gather no more.

Turning to Hear

I walked with the dancing wind roaring in my ears. I wanted to hear the trees dance and would turn my body til I heard the ocean tree waves cresting and falling with the wind. I laughed. Then I pondered how in turning to hear, my view had changed. To hear I had to turn my body. With the gentle sound of wind and trees I wondered if the trees had been a person, would he or she think I had turned away? Would they think the turning of my body meant I was not listening? In truth, I was not turning away, I was in fact turning so that I could intently hear and feel every word and sound.

I know to some, my journey seems as confused and tangled as the thicket of trees. I know some think I turned away when I sought my heart. They did not, do not know, how hard the turning to hear was and has been. Nor how intently and beautifully I can hear their songs and words...and my own instead of the roar. They do not see what waited for me in the thicket's beautiful and mysterious tangles. I too almost missed. But in turning to hear...it waited to greet. I had to enter the thicket. I had to turn to hear.

As Is

The dance of the drought hardened earth's dust and wind shrouding the mountain, in so many ways, took my breath. The invisible made visible. The visible almost invisible. And as my fingers touched the dust resting upon my face, I had to giggle and wonder in awe, "Where my friends have you come from? How many miles and years have you traveled, now to kiss my cheek?" The wonder of the present moment, without story or judgement, simple awe.

Gnarly Celebrated

Of all things held sacred and cherished, that I am not perfect is most dear. When I think of perfection and then the healing, joy, tears and sweat of growth of learning,and humanness, for now the latter is perhaps the sweetest. Giggle, like an orange it squirts you in the face.

Morphing Acceptance

Acceptance. I do love the texture of words. Acceptance is a most mindful word. But, like the word "love" used so much I wonder if like "love" it has lost its texture. I recall a friend within a five minute span saying "I love this hot dog" and "I love you." I laughed to think of myself squeezed between two buns swimming in mustard, ketchup, and relish.

Today, I think I shall morph "acceptance" into "respect." I wonder if the world has woven "acceptance" into a burden to be carried and weighting us down under the load. To "respect" is to honor. Honor for what is. Its roots refer to relationship, regard, and literally to "look at." Ahhhh, to truly look at this moment, experience, feelings with relationship, regard, and consideration. Yes, I think today I shall practice respect.

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.

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.

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?

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."

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.

Cradled Waterfall

I know suffering, my own and the world's. I do not deny, suppress, nor turn my gaze. I know the tears streaming down and the knots suffering creates. Perhaps that is why the Celtic cross is created with intertwining knots and circles. Pain, loss, fear, whatever the label, I call them each by name as I would a dear friend. Each is my teacher, my mentor, and even the path.

The knots bind me with my own tenderness and those of all beings and life. The knots bind me in the circle of joy, gratitude, this moment flowing into the next. The knots woven by suffering are the cradle and cocoon of my heart and tears. And when the time is ripe, I emerge with waterfalls of joy streaming from the knots. The streaming down now bathes all without and within.

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.

Welcome Recognition

He was so kind to put air in my tires. My eyes cannot read the gauge. I offered to pay but he would not accept, offering only a most gentle smile to say 'no need.' As is my custom, my hands went to my heart and I bowed in thanks. As I rose, returning his smile, he looked awkward and ever so stiffly he mimicked a slight bow. My smile grew larger and burst open when he bellowed and laughed "Hey, I like that!"  Two strangers joined as one in respect and gratitude.

Returning home, five candles were lit, forming a star. Facing each one I bowed to each and called them by name...fear, grief, loss, hope, and love. And somewhere, somehow, I heard the voice of "hey I like that!" Strangers and friends joined as one in respect, gratitude, and welcome.

Resting Questions

I stepped into nature's doorway with a question posed by Elizabeth Matti-Namgyel "How do we live a life we can't hold on to?" It is almost the end of December yet my walk among the Colorado mountains gifted a sweat the weather so warm.  While my body was hot the lake moved beneath a sheet of ice. I sat and watched the migrating geese as they rested from their journey. How long will their journey be? Do they ever wish for a sense of home or a life they can hold on to?

I cannot say I got an answer to my question. I did lay my body back against the warmth of the rocks and stared at the sky. I even stood on one leg like the goose and giggled to think that would not gift rest. I took off my sweatshirt and cap so my body could cool. And with a bow to the mountains and geese I made my way back. Such contradictory images, sensations, and textures remind me that sometimes questions are like migrating geese...sometimes to leave them to rest and simply trust the journey.

Opening Christmas Day 8: RSVP NOT

On this day 8 of opening Christmas I ponder an email I tried to write last night. I was trying to thank someone for a simple simple gift they sent to me. A small gift nature gifted. Not Christmas. Something they said simply had my name written all over it. And...it did. Oh sweet mercy it did. Sweet mercy it did.

So why did my mind take off like a rocket trying to think of something equally perfect I could send? Why did my body tense wondering how I could match such a gift? Why is it so hard to simply receive? Why can't I just see both the day moon and the branches in focus and not focus on one overpowering the other?

 I remembered her words, "It had your name written all over it."  Holding the small gift in my hands, as my smile was gifted a drink of sweet tears, I whispered "Thank you." It had my name written. It had love and attention written. It did not have RSVP. Opening Christmas, may my heart also open to simply receive. Is that not the song sung in the heavens?

To Only Try

Some think me an idealist and offer a reality of burdens and cannots. I do not seek a perfect world. I seek only to see and love the imperfect as perfectly as I can.

Doubting Not

Oh, doubt not her fullness. Nor your own.

Throne of Now

I confess, it did beckon me to come and sit. To do so would have disturbed the image. I took my seat and sat both where I was and upon its warm seat gathered in the sunlight. Much like all experiences, sorrowful or glad, we don't have to dig them out, nor do we have to pass by unaware. Simply to be present, this moment, now. Ahhhhh no king or queen has known a greater throne.