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.

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!

Six Inches of Awakening

It is such a simple thing to wake up in the morning. I know well dark nights where perhaps a thought maybe the morning will not come. I know well the mornings where my eyes open and the world is a fresh mystery, untouched, an absolute purity, clean and open armed.

 I know well the work days where I would toddle off to a corporate meeting breathing the amazing energy of life. I would enter the room and WHAM the energy within would singe me like the open flamed hearth I imagine at steel mills. I would step back outside the door and feel the cool peace. Step back through and feel the fiery negativity. I would ponder those tiny six or so inches separating awareness into two diverse and tangible experiences. I confess, giggle, there were times I thought to do an about face, turn the other way and beg forgiveness later.

The first people the Buddha met after his enlightenment asked if he was a god or what. Buddha replied he was neither. He simply said “I am awake.”  Perhaps that is the thread of waking up in the morning - those tiny six inches or so separating my chosen experience. I can turn on my heels and not enter the portal of life as it is. I can enter as I am awake and open. To see the morning and everyone I meet, the must do, would like to do, breath and emotion as those tiny six inches. To breathe and whisper quietly, sweet mercy yes, thank you, I am and will be awake.

Choosing my Cup

A hot cup of coffee is part of my morning ritual accompanying my readings. But the cup never lasts and the coffee chills. This morning I poured the coffee into a larger thermal cup. I missed the warmth of the ceramic cup held in my hands, the steam touching my face, the coffee’s flowing caress against my lips, and the fullness of the sip. The thermal cup did what I asked. It kept the coffee hot and the quantity lasted. It lacked the texture, the warmth and offered its contents through a tiny little hole. I giggle as I now sit holding my ceramic cup of coffee, savoring the textures, watching the swirls dance in the cup. Oh sweet life a grand lesson indeed.  May my discipline and ritual be spontaneous and serendipity the cup from which I drink.

The Eyes Have It

A function of the camera's eye. How long the eye is allowed to remain open. How much light is allowed in. How close or distant one chooses to see. This is not where I began my view of autumn's full moon. The second picture is what caught my eye. But when I drew the camera's eye back this is what I saw. It is the same moon. Perhaps a whispered reminder of light and the choices I and eyes have.

Taking the Loaf

Trying to leave bread crumbs for this path I travel. This morning no loaf to shed a crumb. Gazing out the window, the sky was canvassed with blue sky, white wispy clouds, black and gray and the sun bursting through them all. I laughed. Today no single bread crumb. Why choose? The day offers all. Thank you Life, I shall take the entire loaf before me! A hummingbird joined my giggle.

Breath and Flame

Sitting with the candle last night my heart sighed to think of all the wonder. The flame, once stilled, began to dance. It made me giggle. To watch how sensitive the flame was to movement and yet the wick stood still. The wick like the trees this morning, dancing with clipper winds, bending and swaying and yet they remain steadied and strong. To use the flame of Life as a guide when that about us would cause us to sway.  Noticing the source the movement, and knowing you, your essence, your truth remains untouched. To dance with the flame and yet in fierce grace to protect the flame. The way the winds may blow we cannot control but we can choose how and when the precious flame will dance, stretch or stand in stillness. Our light moving outward to touch all around and unveil the darkness, but at its essence, its truth, it is our flame.

Layered Choice

How is it the clouds are racing across the sky? They linger a moment, a quiet hush upon the mountains, and then create windbows as they glide like a leaf on a flowing river? The trees are still. No wind to make them dance.

Today, when others, or myself, would define my atMUSTsphere, may I remember this moment of awe. Stillness of trees. Gliding armies of clouds. Playful windbows. Or the softness of the grass looking up and beholding all. To choose where I will dance.

Mirrored Question

Pondering Joseph Campbell's words, "Each of us has meaning and we bring it to life. It is a waste to be asking the question when you are the answer" I had to giggle. If you mirror a question mark...you form a heart.

The True Power

Facing the situation, facing the emotions, facing myself, I heard the whisper. 

"There is no duality in life. There is only choice."

Magic Wand

And were it true that I had a magic wand that I would wave throughout my day...what would I do?

Wait! Giggle.... I DO!

It is my heart and the power of choice. Get ready world... my wand is waving the day's wonder and awe.

Disproving Truth

In the world of objectivity, one exception can disprove a truth.
 I remember as a small child eating a hot dog. Every time I bit into the hot dog the "hot dog" would move towards the back of the bun. All I got was a mouthful of bun. I can remember looking up at my parents and probably with a scowl, announced that I could not catch the hot dog. Vivid is the memory of them laughing. Vivid is the memory of my noticing. Vivid is the memory of me smiling.
I felt loved. I felt happy. In the world of objectivity, one exception can disprove a truth. In the world of subjectivity, two annihilate.

Can Do

I can enumerate the aches, pains, burdens and to do's. I can wax poetic upon the should've, could've, wish'd and maybe's. I can cover my eyes to shade the sun. Even close the blinds and turn on the AC to submit the warmth. I could... But the only reality, the only, the only thing that will enact change is the creativity of saying 'yes' to this moment right now. La Chaim! Amen, so be it. En Garde! And so it IS.

Choice

One a reflection. One a remnant left. Both a reminder of how I, and my heart, will move through this day.

Unopposing Thumb

To touch your thumbs to each finger. They say the opposable thumb is a defining trait of being human. With it we can grasp, play the piano, and do such things no other form of life can. Its existence literally reshaped our brains. But then I ponder, without a plane I cannot fly. I cannot run with the speed of a cheetah. I cannot sing like a bird which cannot not sing. I cannot play in the ocean like a dolphin or see with an eagle's eye. And unlike so much of nature, I struggle to love and trust unconditionally. 

Am I less because of my thumb? Giggle...no, no no. But it does mean I am responsible, I have a choice to honor my essence, my heart and life. I can choose to sing or remain silent. I can play and gift the piano's music to myself and others who cannot, or clench the amazing gift silently in my lap. All of life with their wondrous gifts look in awe and paraphrase Mary Oliver as they ask What will you do with your amazing opposable thumb..your life?

No Passengers

               In Robert Pirsig’s book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, a father and his son begin a long motorcycle journey accompanied by a married couple. Part of the story involves the father trying to re-establish his relationship with his pre-teen son. As the story evolves he cannot understand why his son does feel the same experiences he is as they ride. Towards the end he realizes that his son, riding as a passenger on the motorcycle, can turn his head to the right and left, but to look forward, the natural position, he sees only his father’s back and head. He is shielded from the wind, the experience and from sight. His father has him stand on the pedals as they ride. Unshielded and standing, the son becomes the experience, the ride and alive.

               Sometimes the situations of life call for us to be like the bow of a ship and plow head long into the experience, like the driver of a motorcycle. We absorb the wind and the force. We also become the experience, and we change the direction of the wind, we are the wind moving. Unlike the TV screen windows of a car, we plow through the waves or ride the motorcycle as nature, force and power, no longer casual remote viewers watching all pass us by.

               Other times the situation or others drive. We hold on and can only turn our heads to the right or left and we cannot see what is before us. We become as remote and detached as a viewer of TV. And yet, Life offers pedals. We can stand and become the experience. We can stand unshielded, even as a passenger not driving or controlling the situation. We can rise and stand. We can withstand. We can see. No longer remote we know what it is to feel and see. The experience is ours. As is the choice.

There are no passengers in Life. We have only chosen not to stand on the pedals. 

Choosing Magic Choosing Grace

This morning on my walk I noticed a solitary deer as I walked back. She stood in the flat grasses as I stood and watched. My little heart opened. As I moved to walk on she slowly walked parallel to me. I stopped. She stopped and turned her head and watched me. Sometimes she would move in my direction, then pause and we would chat. A couple of times she pranced, not an escaping bound but a prancing like a thoroughbred horse. Sweet mercy so beautiful.  We walked parallel for a bit. I thought maybe she might like to be on the other side where the lake is, so I stopped and told her I would wait. She stared at me and then slowly walked ahead in my direction. Paused and looked at me and then crossed prancing to the other side. I watched until she was well on her way, and saw her look and we said good morning and good bye.

I thought of the morning. How my body not perky made me linger just a bit before I left. How my little dog and I stood for a few moments by the car to take in all we could see. And then on the walk, to linger against the Old One Trees. To stop briefly and touch the most amazing delicate blue flowers. Little pauses or speed ups here and there and was gifted my friend the doe who walked with me.

To another who may or may not have seen the doe, other explanations are easily offered. But perhaps, I ponder, that is indeed the thread…how we choose to see what we choose to see.

Grains of Sand

               To ponder all the things and people we move from, outgrow or replace. We spackle nail holes to hide where pictures and objects once were visible and had significance. We donate clothes that caught our attention in the store, adorned us for special occasions or perhaps hold memories of simply growing. We move from a home that made our hearts gasp the first time we entered and saw all the possibilities or even simply a place to feel safe. Or to ponder all the things or people that have left us, maybe or maybe not with spackling, re-gifting so others would enjoy, or leaving us feeling safe or breathless with possibility.

               The wise ones teach that change any one and the “me” that writes this scrich would not be the same. Better or worse? Who can say.  Victor Frankl’s experience in the holocaust concentration camps led him to observe between every stimulus and response there is a space called choice. Remove but one of the experiences and another choice would have opened that may possibly have changed all others. As the Buddha said, everything and everyone is our teacher, the grains of sands upon the path of choice.

               To ponder all these grains of sand overwhelms my little mind and heart. But to ponder the choice, that space in between humbles me. In the humbling I am lifted by one thought…the gift of choice. The power of choice. That the Sweet Hands of Life, the Universe, the Creator of all would trust me with choice. To think of such love leaves my heart with only one whisper…

I shall trust myself for I am the Divine’s trust.

Absolution Walking Visible

There is a path I walk among the mountains and the lake that takes me to two different bends and two different trees. I call the trees my Orb Trees.  Like a little dog that hears the car of their owner pulling into the drive, my heart beats faster as I approach each tree.  I greet them with love and joy. I lean my body into their trunks and lay my face against their bark. With my eyes closed I can see colors of light. Sometimes the light takes a shape other times just brilliant light beaming through the dark of my eye lids.

                When I walked on the Eve of Eve, having been absent for a bit, I could not wait to melt into the Oneness and serenity of my precious Orb Trees. In nature I dissolve. Everything quiets, and I simply melt and feel only Nature. Yet, I knew from the first step I took upon the path, something was different this day. Having heard the yearning to simply re-member and BE who and what I Am I could sense that today would be different.  I leaned into each Orb Tree and felt my body against the trunk. It was a physical body, a human body leaning against a precious tree. Oh yes, I could feel the life of Nature, but for the first time, I felt my physical body and my bodymindspirit leaning against a tree.  There were not lights dancing. The absence of lights created a bridge of I and Thou. One with Nature but a gentle reminder that I, my Self, remains unique, an individual expression of All That Is. And as I breathed into each tree, I whispered, “Absolution.”

Continuing upon the path, faces returned with each step. Where the bruises and scars had spoken of endings, of should be’s becoming not to be’s the touch of the bark caressed my face, each bruise and each scar. Nothing, no thing had ended…All was, is as should be. There was no separation. There was nothing to forgive and move on from, either stronger or perhaps weaker from the lessons learned. There were no lessons. No need to melt into the Orb Trees where I felt safe from harm, accepted and One. The Orb Trees and I are surely One, but our Oneness is joined within All That Is. They remain trees and I remain human. Our expressions, our divine and innate creation, within All That Is, is our Oneness. And so it was with each face that returned bearing the mantle of forgiveness I had laid upon their shoulders.  Slowly I removed each mantle. Each unwrapping revealing his or her own light, their expression.  Their bark caressed my face as I leaned into him or her. Absolution.

Walking the path back to the car, I turned 360 and stood tall enough to see the mountain tops from the perspective of the clouds.  I could feel my presence becoming a bridge. I giggled, smiled, and whispered, "Let's go. It's time" and walked back visible.

Perhaps

Perhaps it is what the artist or sculptor feels to see their Heart unveiled upon the canvas or a block of marble redefined. Perhaps it is what the poet feels as their heart flows through their fingers and squiggles of ink become the voice of the soul. Perhaps it is..... but I am neither an artist, sculptor nor poet. Perhaps their message to all is to simply reach and release...Love will meet you there.