glow, baby, glow!!

“Shine little glow-worm, glimmer, glimmer
Shine little glow-worm, glimmer, glimmer
Lead us lest too far we wander
Love's sweet voice is calling yonder
Shine little glow-worm, glimmer, glimmer
Hey, there don't get dimmer, dimmer
Light the path below, above
And lead us on to love!"

Discussions this week have led several times to the value(s) of Facebook and this technological age in general. While it would be easy to veer off on that topic at this moment, I am going to reign myself in for now and simply say: I love what happens when you toss something out into the universe (technological or not) and wait. Last night I put two words on my FB status, “glow worm”, and the above response showed up in my inbox this morning. It is the perfect intro to today’s post. Thank you, Country Parson!!

There are myths and legends around the world pertaining to what happens in the days of the full moon, many of them pertaining to bizarre happenings or behaviors.

We arrived in Bermuda two days before this month’s lunar fullness and our hosts were reminded of something they witnessed a few years ago. The story goes that for three nights following the full moon in Bermuda at exactly 56 minutes past sunset, the waters begin to illuminate with the mating ritual of GLOW-WORMS. This frenzy lasts for approximately ten minutes (for three nights) and then subsides until the next full moon.

This sounds entirely too precise to believe, doesn’t it? 56 minutes after sunset??? So, not to be easily gullible we decided to seek out the luminous worms. Night before last, we ventured on our own to a nearby ferry landing following the big storm of the day. The precision was indeed there for at exactly 56 minutes after sunset, we witnessed one lonely chartreuse worm glowing in the water, although he appeared to be swimming circles inside of a transparent jelly fish. (I posed that he warned the others not to come out, lest they meet the same fate.) While we were slightly disappointed in the lack of numbers, it did not deter us from trying again. What better way to track a potential myth down than through the locals? So...

We found a Bermudian friend who declared a friend of hers had one of the definitive glow worm sighting spots. This time all of us went (including the teenagers since they were probably hoping to prove their crazy parents wrong.) Ten of us lined up around the dock waiting for the magic time. My husband was our official time keeper. Five Minutes. Four. Three. Two. One. Blast off!!! I kid you not. At exactly 56 minutes past sunset, two days after the full moon, the water started glowing and the frenzy began. Amidst clouds of love potion, the fluorescent green worms did their thing. We oohed, ahhhhed, shouted, “look look look”. It was amazing (and sad to say impossible to photograph)!! Hubby finally quit trying, put down his camera and said, “I’m just going to enjoy the show!” And, what a miraculous offering it was!!!

So, what do you think? Random? Precise? A fluke? God? All I know is I will sing that little diddy with a whole new appreciation!!! “Shine little glow-worm, glimmer, glimmer”!!!

Wishing you your own glimmering, glowing day!!!

Wednesday Highlights

• Cafe au lait served in bed.
• Reading "Anam Cara" with my beloved.
• Lounging.
• A brisk 1 1/2 hour walk with headphones and camera.
• Sacred act of lunch making (& eating, of course.)
• Sangria and bocce ball.
• Battening down the hatches (in anticipation of the brewing storm.)
• Swimming in the pouring rain (the storm arrived.)
• Hot tub. Shower.
• Reading.
• Napping.
• Dinner al fresco (the storm moved on.)
• Searching for the glow worms...stay tuned.
• A rousing game of Sorry.
• An even more scintillating game of Tiddly Winks with moi being the winner.
• Conversation & cigars.
• More reading.
• Night. Night.

kitteh - a found friend on my walk

What Makes the Difference?

Sunrise Sister has been engaging her readers in a conversation about the "small things" in life. Is there really such a thing as something too small or insignificant? This is something I ponder much of the time.

Currently I have the pleasure of posting from a special little version of paradise. Some have commented it is easy to enjoy things when you are surrounded by such beauty and caring friends. True. I also recall visiting here a couple of months ago and experiencing one of the darkest periods in my recent past. So what makes the difference?

This morning before I read SS's post, I ran across a quote that resonated deeply with me and I recalled when I read the words of Sunrise Sister and her thoughtful commenters:

"Remember always that you have not only the right to be an individual; you have an obligation to be one."

-- Eleanor Roosevelt

If we fulfill our "obligation" as Eleanor suggests, I believe that moves us right out of ordinary and into extraordinary - even if multiple people are doing the same thing.

One of the most sacred things I did yesterday was to lovingly set the table for those with whom I was going to dine. As I rolled the napkins and silverware and placed the paper plates, I considered each person and viewed my gesture as an act of love. While I did not verbally share this with anyone (until now), it was a vision that stayed with me into the next day. It was also amidst many other events that could have been viewed as much more extraordinary. Does setting a table become more sacred in "paradise"?

So, what do you think? Is there anything ordinary? My response: Only if we allow it to be so.

the view from my window in paradise 7/7/09

How Do You Fill Your Creative Well?

Blisschick in one of her always-thoughtful posts asks the above question. My inner response is “by being creative, of course.” It is an interesting cycle, because to be creative I need to feel creative. The other response I came up with is “by listening to my inner voice that says, dance, sing, create!”

Last night I did just that. On vacation with my family at the wonderful Bermuda retreat home of our dear friends, we finished dinner on the veranda around 9:30 p.m. As we walked inside to finish up the dishes, our host said, “If anyone has not seen the moon outside, you are required to do so now.” (Another way to fill the creative soul is to surround yourself with friends who require dropping the dishes and heading out to view the moon NOW! which btw--was on the opposite side from the veranda.)

So, being the obedient guest, I headed outside with the rest of the crew and stood in awe, ahhh, awwwwwwwwwweeee, of the incredible moon shining over the open sea. Discussion ensued about how bright the beach is at night when the moon is full, etc. etc. Some what ifs or we shoulds were thrown around and finally I said, “What are waiting for, let’s go to the beach! Who knows what tomorrow may bring?”

Bill and I loaded up the camera and tripod, hopped into the golf cart and went the ½ mile down to the beach to set up and await the arrival of the others. Setting the tripod and camera for time exposures, we played and did “light painting” which resulted in the photo(s) here. I skipped on the beach with the moon shining full and bright. We splashed in the rising tide. Scribbled in the sky with penlight in hand. In the midst of laughter and play, my creative well was filled to the brim. Delight seems to have that affect on me!

I considered adding even more ways the well rises to the top, but hey, I’m on vacation and more play awaits. I’d love to know though, how do you fill your creative well?

chillin'

i feel like the fairy godmother of restoration has tapped me with a powerful wand that says "relax!". i have willingly obeyed. 10:30 a.m. Bermuda time - almost ten hours of sleep - heaven.
a gentle breeze. warm air. the sun bright, but not harshly so. the kiskadees call. my skin looks fresh and line-free. my hair falls softly. my body needs a good stretch. a swim may be in order.

Welcome to Paradise...returning home to myself. wonder who i'll find.

Dancing with the Jellyfish

"Nature...a source of renewal and perspective, a place to be made whole." Mimi Farrelly-Hansen

Walking on the shore, I find myself staring at transparent beauty. Beauty began to stare back at me – to cry out – to breathe and gasp – “Help me” “Save me” “I’m melting…melting”.

Breathing or melting? The sun drying out her ethereal body. Only a spark to be left at the center.

The core. The center. The soul. The outer withering away. Dried up and gone with the wind.

The jellyfish pled to be saved. She looked at me from that transparent soul. “Water of life, I need you.”

And so the dance began. Scooping her up with a sheet of broken plastic – garbage left in the sand. Scooping and tossing. Over and over again. The currents – the waves - would not cooperate. They would not carry her out to sea.

Watching the rhythm – landing her in the ocean – she began to swim. Her tentacles spreading and floating. Beautiful and deadly. They are her power and they are deadly. I nearly forgot they could harm me, so mesmerized by the beauty was I. Her power full and floating free. Could she escape to the open sea?

No. She was destined to arrive on the shore. I could not save her. Did she know and feel that I fought for her? Scooping and tossing again and again until I knew I could not save her.

And so I left her by a rock. A small pool of water keeping her moist. Life giving. Life sustaining. Maybe that small pool of water was enough to nourish her. Perhaps the tide changed and pulled her back to sea. Back to see the depths of the ocean.

Did she know I fought to save her? Was that enough? Did she know?

Will I let my power flow or will I tuck it under and shrivel up and blow away?

She was 85% water. The sun drying her out. The heat. The fire of day. Shriveling into sand. Beached upon the earth. Blown away by the wind. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Perhaps the morning rain released her. Maybe her soul dropped into a new body. The joy of a dog. The laughter of a child. The brilliance of a woman.


photos by lucy 5.07.09

scribbled on a scrap of paper

diving into the depths...
do i fight or
will i surrender?

are you leading me
in my dreams?
will i awaken
to an ongoing nightmare

or shall peace
finally flow & wash
over me
with new, abundant
life?

now that i'm free...

Feeling slightly less discombobulated...I spent some time yesterday in nature with only the elements and creatures as company. Earlier today I found this very apt poem by one of my favorites, Mary Oliver.

Now that I'm free to be myself, who am I?

Can't fly, can't run, and see how slowly I walk.

Well, I think, I can read books.

"What's that you're doing?"
the green-headed fly shouts as it buzzes past.

I close the book.

Well, I can write down words, like these, softly.

"What's that you're doing?" whispers the wind, pausing
in a heap just outside the window.

Give me a little time, I say back to its staring, silver face.
It doesn't happen all of a sudden, you know.

"Doesn't it?" says the wind, and breaks open, releasing
distillation of blue iris.

And my heart panics not to be, as I long to be,
the empty, waiting, pure, speechless receptacle.

-Mary Oliver from Blue Iris

I'd love to hear what this poem says to you. Personally, I find myself hanging onto the first and last stanzas. Now that I'm free...

discombobulated

I am really having a hard time finding my center these days. Perhaps it is being away from home and routine. Late nights filled with a little too much wine and festivity. Groggy mornings spent lounging and sipping cappuccino while the ocean breeze blows across my face. Is there such a thing as too much paradise?

I wonder if the discombobulation comes from too much activity – lack of routine – overindulgence. Or perhaps is it a result of my recent “retirement” from a job and institution I have loved for five years? What comes of being surrounded by people who talk of high-level politics, economics and other “ics”? I want to indulge in matters of the heart, but find there are few doors in. My heart feels lonely and sad. I am a spiritual misfit here.

The crowds are thinning and I will hopefully have a little more time to center over the next few days. My favorite monk arrives this afternoon. Perhaps the spiritual balance will shift. I am really having a hard time finding my center these days. My writing feels stifled. My voice sounds hollow. And even my skin is having a strange reaction to the sun.

Weird unfurling and a struggle to list Bliss even as I sit in the middle of paradise. Wonder what’s up with that? Anybody besides me (and Sue) ever feel discombobulated?

are you awake?

"Only that day dawns to which we are awake." Thoreau

Posts to help awaken your May day:
Blisschick
Abbey of the Arts
Anchors & Masts

mornings by the sea

"morning is a time of promise and possibility spread out in the day before us." --Christine Valters Paintner

one of my favorite "companions" during my week away was this lovely zine by Christine Paintner, "season by the sea: a contemporary book of hours." it is lovely in both verse and image. i hope you will choose to support Christine's work and give yourself a special treat by ordering your own copy here.

day break

day spread out before me like the fresh sand upon the beach
no footprints yet to mark this day
night time clearly gone

the golden orb fully taking her place in the sky
spreading outward
at the center almost too brilliant to observe
then…broadening, widening, turning softer
layers of color…ringing, moving, spreading

watching me
capturing me
being me
who am I to be?
who will I be in this day?

am I the one who plays in the surf and dives from the cliffs
laughing and roaring with the thrill of the risk,
the freedom,
the joy?

or will I be the one who silently,
thoughtfully ponders the art
through the halls of life’s museum?

I want it all!!!

photos by lucy 6.27.08

diary of a day

• cafe latte in bed
• light breakfast with friends & dogs
• walk to the beach
• stroll
• swim in the sea
• walk to the house
• swim in the pool
• shower outside
• lunch
• read
• nap on the veranda with cool island breeze
• read
• nap
• read
• play with water color paints alongside new friend
• dress for dinner
• outdoor dining at "rustico" fabulous!!
• conversation
• late night game with the teens
• finish book
• sleep

ahhhhhhh...just another day in paradise...

visual gratitude

"I arise at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving."
--Kahlil Gibran

be

Is it fading memory or past inobservance? I don’t remember ever awakening to this amazing, picture perfect view right outside my window. Did I not turn to the west upon awakening in the past? Or is there a new window—a wall moved just a foot or two? I think not, because the room is perfectly symmetrical as it is. How can I miss something so simple and so amazingly beautiful? Something that is right before my very eyes?

I think we must do it all the time. The missing, I mean. Some say we cannot go looking for the sacred. Is that true? If we do not open our hearts, eyes or minds, how will we know it is there? And what of those times when we desperately want to see God and yet we feel or see nothing? A dark night of the soul, if you will.

There it is—the paradox of being. We must see to believe, but in the looking we miss what is simply there. Hmmmm. Is that what I meant to say? In looking for my words do they fail to come? Is something lost in the translation from heart to head? Yet I must put pen to paper for something to tangibly emerge. Or must I?

“Let it be,” says the still small voice. “Be” that simple tiny small word that is so huge. Let it be. Be still and know. Be still. Be.

How will I choose to “be” today? How will you?

Reflections

There is lots bubbling around in my mind this morning with very little time to write or process. I decided to share this peaceful (I think) reflection written on holiday as 2007 winded down. Enjoy!

Listening to the voice inside my head and outside in the world. The sunlight dancing across the veranda. The wind gently rustling the green vegetation. The "tink tink tink" of the fan. The call of the kiskadee. The voices of my loved ones. A veritable symphony in creation surrounds me. The blank pages of a new notebook await my thoughts and musings. My ponderings. A new year lies before me. Much will feel repetitive, but each day will be new. There will be no other exactly like it. No two moments are ever the same. They are each created in the instant they happen.

Graffiti Wisdom

the apple doesn't fall far from the tree...





...but from there it can go on.

Checking In

Home again and trying to catch up while also spending time with wonderful friends who are visiting for a few days. Add two teenagers to the mix--one starting high school and all the at entails and the other experiencing "re-entry" into the family after living on his own for several months. I long for a little time to reflect and write. Today, however, I am just checking back into the blogosphere and sharing this piece of art that arrived at my house yesterday. I love the blend of painting and poetry.

Blessings today!

"Gooseneck Cottage"
Painting is silent poetry and poetry is painting that speaks. --Simonides

No Words

reflections from bermuda #7
Pure, perfect, calm. Sometimes there are no words to describe the magnificence of creation. Silent prayer. Words spoken through a breeze. The sound of a gently flowing fountain. Sunbeams and shadows cast across the brilliant green lawn. Flowers bursting with color saying, “Look at me. Dance with me.” Soft white clouds float above a sea of azure blue.

Timeless. Breathless. Wordless. Good morning, God. I see you. Feel you. Know you are here with me. I am grateful. Thankful. In awe of all that surrounds me. Beauty. Still and calm today. Safe and secure. Gentle. Kind. Lovely. Free. They are I. I am they.

Thank you. Stillness and calm. The birds are even quiet today. Giving space for contemplative prayer and worship. Here we go. The new day has come. Pure. Perfect. Calm.

7/27/07

photo by bill

Forget About Comfort - Part 2

reflections from bermuda #6

It is the illusion of comfort that keeps us locked in fear and turmoil. For comfort is not about material wealth and trappings (a powerful and apt word!). Comfort is being at rest and at peace with God and with oneself for the two cannot be separated. Comfort is surrendering to the still small voice that says, ‘Let the little children come. Come to me all who are weary and heavy burdened.’ Seek comfort and peace.

Your comfort zone is an illusion—a trick—to keep you in conflict. Take a step—move beyond—just one tiny step can change your life. One honest moment of moving through or past fear creates a miracle. Taking the risk to do something different can break the chains that bind.

Each day it looks different. Some days the biggest thing I can do is get out of bed, step out from under my cozy covers. Or speak to a stranger as my heart pounds wildly. Go to graduate school. Give up a good job. Travel to a foreign country. Let go of my teenagers. Take a step. A single step outside my zone of comfort.

If there is a battle raging inside (whether loudly or nearly undetectable) then something is yearning to shift—to move. Complacency holds fast, but risk is the ticket to freedom. What would I do if I were brave?

“Forget about comfort.” God sent those words to me over three years ago. They were not just for that day. They are for a lifetime. They continue to be worth the risk and the discomfort ☺.

What would you do today if you were brave?

7/26/07

photo by bill