Opening Christmas #5 - Bargain Aisle

Opening Christmas Day 5,  I ponder the conversation with my brother about items still remaining in our parents’ house. “Yes there are things I would like, but I have nowhere to put them. It is ok to discard.”  My gaze went to the corner where a kite hangs and gently moves with the furnace’s breath. I remember over a year ago when it sailed. At 58 my first ever time to fly a kite and I marvel to think of the joy that still overwhelms my heart.  A $2 kite flown for less than five minutes and even if the kite was not visible to my eyes the gift of life and joy would still be there.

 On this day 5 of opening Christmas may I seek not those gifts that require space and not heart. May I remember Rumi’s words of warning about Love – “This kiss will cost you your life!” To which Rumi replied, “What a bargain!” As I open Christmas on this day 5, may I seek only those gifts in Love’s bargain aisle.

A Tale of Two Blogs

Late afternoon and my spirit, with a demand not a whisper, called me to go walk. Not my usual time, dark approaching. I hesitated and then went down to the park lake. I said good evening to the tree that always greets me and always pulls my weary weakened body up the steep hill that is my reward.  I always fix my eyes upon her beauty and strength and she reaches out and carries me up the hill. With gratitude I always stop, say 'thank you' and then bow and with hands to my heart whisper 'namaste.'  

On my way up the hill my eyes fixed as they do but my heart heard a sound that created fear. Cresting the hill I saw a tree cutter beginning to cut her down. I confess my will to weak to stop the tears. I stood fixed and in disbelief. My friend. The young man walked over and with a gentle voice said "It's dead." Correcting his "it" I replied, "She always carries me up the hill. She is so beautiful." And with that I bowed and whispered 'namaste' and began to walk away. The young man called out and brought me a branch. Blog one would have ended here with a heavy heart and sweet tears. 

Blog two found its birth after darkness. Stumbling with eyes that cannot see in the dark, I scurried out and down the street with the moon guiding my feet. I could see the shadows of her lower branches stacked only the main trunk remained. I knelt and left an offering of corn meal upon the ground and her cut branches. It is a Native American gift back to the earth. With a final namaste and bow, touching the earth,  I whispered "good night" not good-bye. 

"Be still my heart, these great trees are prayers." ~ Tagore

"Lookey"

Some mornings I look at the sky, only to calculate the chance of rain. There are mornings I do not look. Most mornings I see the textures, colors and shapes, the sea horses, pig heads, Snoopy, hearts and dragons.

Like a child that comes running, little hand clutching the paper flying behind their excited body, eyes filled with wonder, squealing "Look!" as they hand you their artwork, Natures squeals her whisper "Look!" And, like the child, the sweet Hands and Artist of Life, hope the artwork offered is worthy of the refrigerator in your eyes and heart.