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.

Soft Eyes

The morning image whispered was that of the old fashion alarm clocks before cell phones and digital clocks. The old timey clock with two bells that would shatter the world with their clanging. No snooze. Just metal banging against metal announcing it was time to wake up. With a shiver and wonder as to why this image, my small four legged angel sat next to me and the clanging melted into soft gentle eyes that were nothing but love and presence.

Truth is, every breath, every thought, every action and movement I make is a wake-up call. A wake-up call to my heart, my mind, to those around me, those distant, and even to the sweet sweet earth that is my sanctuary. My presence touches and awakens all around me including who and what I cannot see.

Sweet mercy...may I remember these eyes.

May I awaken my heart and mind with these eyes.

May I awaken and touch the world with these eyes.

May I simply be...soft eyes.

Sacred Stem

Beneath the bloom the lotus's roots lie entangled in mud.  Unbeautiful, invisible, their thin bodies not mistaken for delicate.  A slender stem joins the blossom to the roots. The beautiful and delicate blossom but the manifestation of the roots' innate yearning that the blossom unfold into its beauty. Separating the mud and beauty a mirrored reflection of beauty only, the mask of love worn by the roots. Only that so elegant, full of grace and softness should be seen. 

The soft and beautiful offering a gentle fragrance and dance to the world. The muddy and unseen, entombed in a darkened world. Separated by a reflection. Perhaps the true beauty, the sacred touch lies in the stem which knows both the crypt and birth of life. 



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Lotus Flowerby =George-kirk