Angels in our Midst - Do you believe?

“A Warrior of the Light is never predictable.

She might dance down the street on her way to work, gaze into the eyes of a complete stranger and speak of love at first sight, or defend an apparently absurd idea. Warriors of the Light allow themselves days like these.” – Paulo Coelho

Are you a Warrior of the Light? Someone who’s willing to dream of angels and step into absurd ideas? Well, I am. This morning I awoke thinking of angels and other things that some might call “woo woo.” I opened As I Lay Pondering, saw today’s title, “To Be Known,” and asked myself what it would mean for me to be known right now in this moment. Hmmm.... 

Norah & the Watchers

Do you believe in angels? I do. They come in all shapes and forms—furry, human, dreamlike. Arriving in streams of light, laughing children, and a gentle touch. A stranger who appears and mysteriously vanishes. A fleeting thought, prickly neck or tingly skin. One of my favorite “angels” that shows up in both image and imagination is a curly-headed impish girl named Norah (translated as Compassion). My old golden retriever, Curry, emerges on occasion. And, of course, my purring companion, Aslan, is an everyday reminder of otherworldliness in present form. My long-deceased father has appeared on several occasions through music and nature; meeting me when I most need to hear him. Real or imagined? Truth or fantasy? What do you believe?

Recently a man perusing my ponderings mentioned to his wife that he thought I might be a little crazy. So be it. A warrior of the light dances through the street and people either join in the dance, run the other way, criticize, or pause and ponder. Which do you choose to do?

Curry Dog

There is a place of stillness where everything connects, disappears and comes into absolute clarity all at the same moment. I think of the Bible story of Jacob wrestling with God and his dreams of the ladder going up to heaven while angels ascended and descended. These kinds of stories have been with us since the beginning of time. The question is... Are we willing to believe? What happens when we slow down, step into stillness, and listen... deeply listen? Will God speak? Do angels show up? Is it the result of an overactive imagination or a mind running wild with thoughts and fantasy? Does it matter? Will it be any less real if I can’t hold it in my hand or capture it in a digital photo? Perhaps I am a touch mad, but today my mind returned to a very real experience I had during a meditative time in Arizona this spring.

When I closed my eyes and the meditation began, our moderator simply mentioned the word “stage” and I felt the spotlight shine upon me. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had these longings since I was a little girl. Do we all dream of being on the stage? Yes. No. Perhaps. I believe our “stages” simply take on different forms. [Pause and ponder: what your stage might be? You know, the one you see when you close your eyes.]

Check out that Boa!

Moving down the pathway of my mind, golden-haired Norah greets me with her playfulness and compassion—her is-ness. In her unique way, she invites me to simply be. Before me on the ground lay an apple that I witnessed just before the moderator invited us to look up rather than down. There to my right were grand marble steps leading upward to the stage. A brilliant curtain crafted of magnificent red—the color and texture of my feather boa—reminds me there is nothing insignificant about my essential self. She is meant to shine! (I know this and yet I doubt it in my current mind... not the meditation). Returning to the dream state, I am invited to leave Norah, my guide, at the bottom of the staircase. I don’t want to take my journey without Compassion, but Norah reminds me that she is always with me. All I need do is ask.

Moving up the stairway, I see a being with shoulder-length hair. He glows with strength and light emanating from within. Before I can ask his name, I know it is the Archangel Michael whose card lay “randomly” on my chair before our session began. The Angel turns and points to the audience spread before the stage. It is filled with adoring fans—people asking for my gifts... my gifts... MY gifts. The people do not clamor. They simply stand before Michael’s outstretched hands—before me—and wait. They snake around my viewpoint—like the final scene in “Pay It Forward”—holding lights and waiting. They are honoring me and know I have the gift to share with them. I am awed and honored myself. Michael is brilliant before me and he is part of me. Strength and courage. Like Norah, he will always be with me, but especially during this time of the journey he is very near.

I sense him over my left shoulder now. His golden wings gently wrapping around me as I write with my golden muse, Aslan, purring in my lap. “Be you, my child. The world is waiting.” I feel it now and I heard it then as he turned back to me and said, “The gift is you.” And in his hands lay my gift to the world.

In that brief moment, I smelled the apples I had seen earlier. The fruit of life. Tempting and forbidden. Hmmm. Fear creeps in. I was always forbidden to shine. Forbidden to taste the fruit of my own knowledge. But here, the sweet fruit has been broken open before me. I need only inhale—stop, pause, breathe—and it will find me, surround me, and fill me with its fragrant aroma. May this fragrance move me into the world with strength and tenderness; compassion and love; Michael and Norah. There is no room for fear when all is love.

Truth or fantasy? Real or imagined? Sane or inept? What do you choose to believe? Where does your mind go when you turn to that deep place of stillness where everything connects, disappears, and becomes clear in the same moment?

Is meditation making me “soft?”

For the past several weeks, I’ve been practicing my call to a more formal meditation practice and have been engaging with Susan Piver’s “Open Heart Project.” (It’s fabulous, by the way, and I highly recommend checking it out no matter what your level of experience with meditation practices.) In this week’s post, she speaks about the power of sorrow and a sense of permeability that allows us to receive input in fresh new ways. As I pondered this “softness” in myself, several instances immediately came to mind...

Recently while coaching a brilliant young woman, I heard her utter the words, “I’m not pretty enough” and my heart nearly broke wide open with sorrow. I thought perhaps I would burst into tears in our session because all I notice when I’m in her presence is the sheer beauty of who she is—both inside and out. Rather than fleeing my impulse to hide my tears as she spoke, I breathed more deeply and shared with her my experience. Our mutual acts of courage and tenderness left us both sniffling for several moments as we compassionately connected.

Yesterday while walking through Seattle’s Experience Music Project with my visiting 2nd cousin, I felt myself go all soft and mushy as his twelve-year-old, slightly sweaty palms entwined with my own fingers while he guided me through the horror exhibit and led me gleefully into the “scream room.”

And, you might as well knock me over with a feather and send in the box of tissues when I receive a compliment or praise on my book, As I Lay Pondering. I continue to be humbled and thrilled as others reveal how my words are touching their lives and helping shape their days. I can’t imagine my tender emotions ever abating on this topic.

I also saw “The Artist” today and found myself with a lump in my throat as tears dripped down the heroine’s cheeks and when “The Dog” repeatedly plead for his master’s well being.

I’ve always sniffled at Hallmark commercials and wiped my tear-filled eyes when the princess finds her prince, but something about this new “softness” feels rich and strong. Piver speaks about becoming “both more resilient and more gentle.” Yes. Strong and tender. Bold and humble. Fierce and mild. Open. Willing. Able to meet the world in new ways. Colors are more brilliant. Rain feels like a gentle cloak rather than a suffocating torrent. And if there were an 8th dwarf in Snow White’s crew (and I were it), you could just call me Softie.

So, is it meditation that’s making me soft? Hmmm... I’m off to ponder if that’s the case for these feelings or perhaps they are simply the residual effects of an increasingly open heart. Whatever it is, I think I like it.

Finally... when and where do you notice tenderness in your life? Would you prefer a little more softness? Or do you hold onto the notion that tenderness is weak? What if you could be both fierce and mild in the same moment... or greet the world with Technicolor vision? Would a few minutes of meditation each day be worth the time? How might you “soften” to this experience? I’d love to know where your pondering takes you!

btw - today's photo scene was so overwhelmingly beautiful to me on a recent walk, i implored my dear husband to stop and snap the shot... just one more example of having an open heart, methinks.

I hope you'll check out... As I Lay Pondering: daily invitations to live a transformed life by Kayce S. Hughlett Available here and at Amazon.com. Get your copy today!!

Impermanence

“That nothing is static or fixed, that all is fleeting and changing, is the first mark of existence.” Pema Chodron

Impermanence. My spirits rose higher than a soaring kite and now have calmed to the rhythm of a gently lapping wave. A friend who used to greet me brightly has faded from my life like vapor in a foggy night. A woman waits at a hospital, checking the status box “married.” Two days later she leaves alone with “widow” stamped on her form. My cat, Aslan, was here purring on my chest and now he’s not. Impermanence. How do we acknowledge that all is fleeting and changing? Do we rage against it and demand it isn’t so? Or embrace it with understanding and awareness? Perhaps we simply hope it will drift away like the cat, quietly seeking another place to rest.

Imagine practicing impermanence. Witnessing life in fleeting moments. Loving what is now. Wanting what we get. All these choices build our character and establish the timbre of our lives. Nature teaches us that we cannot catch the wind or hold a ray of sunshine in our hand. One minute the sky is clear and the next clouds have rolled in. Hollywood reminds us, too. Demi Moore reigned on the screen with her beauty and strength. Now she resides in rehab filled with fear and self-doubt. Whitney Houston, the former queen of pop, died in a hotel room the night before the Grammy awards. Life flourishes and then it doesn’t. Reminders all.

My pen will eventually run out of ink. My own lungs will ultimately cease to draw air. What does all this mean today? With what am I left? Now. Only now. In this moment I can feel the air cycling through my body. I hear the scratch of the pen across this page. The light fixture next to me buzzes. Outside a child chatters with her father and waits for the bus. The bus arrives and they all depart. A new sound hastens to fill the space. My lungs draw another breath. My hand scratches out a few more words. A truck’s roar enters the near silence... and fades away.

Impermanence. Perhaps it is the only permanent thing in life.

I’ll be pondering this today. Care to join me?

MY NEW BOOK: As I Lay Pondering: daily invitations to live a transformed life by Kayce S. Hughlett. Available here and at Amazon.com.

Scrambling for the Safety Zone

“We spend all our energy and waste our lives trying to re-create zones of safety which are always falling apart.” Pema Chodron

Scrambling for the safety zone. Is that what my mind is doing these days? Scrambling. Scrambled. I scramble. The challenge to quiet my spinning thoughts rises. So I pick up pen and notepad while Aslan, my ever-present muse, scrambles and scurries—actually he saunters—to take his place between my chest and journal. His nose tucks beneath my left arm as he snuggles into position. Is this his meditation time or mine? Who is teaching who?

How will I share my passion with the world? The morning’s question sends me scrambling for the safety zone of assurance. What’s next? How many sales? (Let that go.) Will people like it – receive it – buy it? (It doesn’t matter.) Will they relate – be moved – touched? (Maybe. Maybe not.) I’ve put it out there. Now what? My mind scrambles to fill the space. Write here. Schedule there. Do this. Don’t do that. Just BE... comes the overarching message. Stop scrambling! Breathe. Release. BE.

Where do you find yourself scrambling for a safety zone today? Is it working or would it feel better to breathe, release and simply Be?

As I Lay Pondering: daily invitations to live a transformed life by Kayce S. Hughlett. Available here and at Amazon.com.

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 25

Words of kindness. We often forget to share them. We discount how far reaching or significant they may be. Words that lay unspoken like an infant’s sock dropped on a neighborhood sidewalk. Abandoned. Never to be paired with their match. Earlier this day someone took a moment to consider my sock. A friend from the remote past (one I still envision at 18 even though she’s well past the half century mark) offered me the profound gift of her simple yet generous words. Why today? Why not?

A smile, a word, a nod, a note can change another’s day or life. With little effort on our part we can offer the encouragement or reinforcement another may need. I would never have known this woman read my words unless she told me. How do people know we care if we don’t speak out? Forget the “they should know,” because chances are they don’t. We’ve become a world of wanna be mind readers and last time I checked, it wasn’t particularly effective. There’s no way I could have known where my words had reached without this friend declaring our connection.

When was the last time you offered a generous word for "no good reason"? Is there someone whose name you think is cool? Tell them. Do you think his phrase was perfect or her tenacity and brilliance admirable? Offer it up. Even brilliant people have doubts. Remember: a smile, a word, a nod, a note can change another’s day or life. Why not begin today?

Corby... this one's for you with gratitude!!

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people recover and nourish personal delight & joy in life.

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 14

Trust for the day

What would it be like to invite trust into my day? To pose the question? To ponder what it means to trust and then to offer myself a response? Because I trust myself and the story that wants to carry me, today I will choose to live freely, without hindrance. I will be still when silence calls and when thoughts and details threaten with their hectic pace. I will be bold in paying attention and asking for what I need. I will not live in the shadow of others' expectations. I commit this day to feeling and believing what is true for me. I will remember the moments that make no sense to anyone else - like the encounter with the skywalker or my father coming to visit with a touch and a tear.

I will let sorrow, joy and difficult discourse flow from and through me. When I begin to think too much or perform for others, I will pause and breathe. I will come back to my center - the place where I am balanced, enlivened and focused on what simply is. When life gets to be too much and the chaos creeps in, that is the place I will trust it is time to pause and reclaim my day.

Diamonds in the Soul - helping high-functioning, under-living people recover and nourish personal delight & joy in life.

Fetish Focus

DiLoPi writing prompt #9 - Write about a fetish, totem, "blankie" or other centering object that you have a) owned and revered at one time or 2) currently own and revere or 3) that your character owns and reveres or 4) that you wish you owned and revered.

Earlier this morning I was writing about being infused with thoughts or images that pass our way. We don't necessarily know they've even entered our consciousness until they pop out somewhere down the road. Continuing my journaling, I ultimately found myself answering the above writing prompt that recently showed up in my mailbox. Here is what I mused:

Starting my day with news and distractions, doesn't work for me. If I first open up my e-mail, then I'm off down a rabbit trail that often takes me away from a life-giving focus. Even though good stuff abounds - if the computer is my first default - I'm off on the circuitous trail that beckons and pulls. The flashing images are seductive. My iPad and iPod lie next to me and my MacBook is just across the room. Oh my, have they become my fetish?

Oh, the seductiveness of this technology. I curl up in bed seeking warmth and comfort. The devices call to me and promise excitement, community, new information - even devotions. I meet my friends there. My sister - fellow bloggers - the characters in Grey's Anatomy. Christine brings morning greetings and DiLoPi offers writing prompts.

When I'm lonely and bored or wanting to distract myself, I reach for a little piece of technology. I decide it's time to work or create, possibly both together. So, I turn on that glowing screen. For a moment, I choose to pass the beckoning e-mail, but... I know it's there. Just one peek? Perhaps a quick look? I tell myself. And... once I succumb, I've lost my own momentum. A force other than I has taken over and I'm off down the rabbit trail. Minutes turn into hours and ultimately a day. Frustrated with my lack of accomplishment, I turn for the comfort of more surfing. Perhaps just a blog site or two? Maybe a stop by the forum at SCS?

Will I be satisfied? It's a crap shoot - especially when I reach without forethought. I stuff another URL into my brain like stale cookies I can't even taste. I know this, and still I'm like a zombie drawn to fresh blood. The blink of the light. The push of a button. Just one more taste...

My fetish? I've vowed to turn let it go or at least I'm taking back control. I'll choose to curl up with a book instead of my iPad. No e-mail before meditation or morning pages. No infusion without first checking in with there I am! The news can wait 30 more minutes. I'm learning to block the path of the rabbit trail with timers, boundaries & mindfulness. Finding where technology nourishes me rather than allowing it to become obsession. That's often the problem with a "good" or favorite thing. We manage to manipulate it and cross the line into over-indulgence until it turns into something we don't love quite so much. Hmmmm... Gotta stop now and see what my iDictionary says about fetish :)

fetish: any object eliciting unquestioning reverence, respect or devotion

snowy pictures from 2008 - although I'm looking out the window in WallaWalla where it's snowing right now.

Can You Plan Destiny?

My last post ended with the words, "I'm off to plan my destiny." Can one really plan their own destiny? I truly love the idea of letting go and allowing surprise to happen. I am also discovering that my nature actually enjoys some discipline in the process of going with the flow. Impossible? Well, consider this: a river has banks; the oceans have shores; showers have stalls. Even where water is concerned there are some boundaries.

For the last couple of weeks (since attending the fabulous DiLoPi workshop), I have created a lovely rhythm for my days. In the past, I've typically awakened without alarm, structured my schedule around "official" appointments and hoped I would accomplish all of the other things I wanted to do during the time in between. What I found was there was never much (if any) time to work on my passions. In other words, going with the flow allowed my dreams to get washed down the drain or at least soaked to the bone. The rhythm I established looked something like this:

Meditate
Morning pages
Book writing
Get ready for work
"Official" Meetings
Exercise
Creative work
Family time
Read & Rest

What I found was there was almost always time for everything and then some. By setting both specific times to do things and holding to the boundaries, my satisfaction level, as well as my productivity, went way up! So, why am I talking about this in past tense? Because Sunday, I failed to set up the boundaries and decided to go with the flow. Big mistake!! I made it through my first two items beautifully and then frittered away the rest of the day. I ended up feeling like a slug and just a pinch of salt could dissolve all of the goodwill I'd been developing toward myself for the last several weeks. Geez Louise, it's so easy to slip into old patterns! And, once I'm aware of what I'm doing, it's possible to dry myself off and jump back in the flow.

Planning my destiny? How about if I start by planning one moment at a time? I'll let you know how that goes.

So... what are you planning today?

photos ©Ireland, 2009

Riding the Wave of Breath

Before daybreak and slightly bleary-eyed from my night's sleep, I enter my studio. Touching match to wick, the soft glow of candlelight enters the room and morning shadows dance across the walls. Tenderly I curl myself into a comfortable cross-legged position, close my eyes ever so slightly and offer myself to this new day.

Inhale. Exhale. I ride the wave of my breath. As I meditate, there are moments where my curiosity stirs and I wonder from where this tranquility comes. I sit in silence and follow my breath. In. Out. One. Two. Three. Four. My body settles into a gentle rhythm. With the inhale, I hear the sound of wind through aspens. On the exhale, a storm is brewing in the midwest. My thoughts float by like gentle clouds on a summer day. Grounded. Breathing. Simple. I am tranquil. Again, I wonder how I got to this place until even that thought drifts on by. In. Out. One. Two. Three. Four.

Paying Attention

"...paying attention requires no equipment, no special clothes, no greens fees or personal trainers. You do not even have to be in particularly good shape. All you need is a body on this earth, willing to notice where it is, trusting that even something as small as a hazelnut can become an altar in this world." -- Barbara Brown Taylor

"When you have put into practice the thing you are talking about, then speak from knowledge of the thing itself." -- The Wisdom of the Desert

Sunrise Sister recently wrote a powerful post about how her reading choices had taken on a theme of which she was unaware during the selection process. A similar thing is happening to me, and for now the theme seems to be paying attention.

A couple of weeks ago I began reading The Wisdom of the Desert by Thomas Merton, in preparation for my upcoming trip to the Sinai Desert. A while back a dear friend suggested I might enjoy Taylor's, An Altar in the World. Recently it became the book that most wanted to hop onto my Kindle pages. Having just finished a chapter in Altar titled, "Reverence," I found it a perfect prompt to review the glorious day I am currently experiencing.

I feel the evening breeze blow across my face as the late afternoon sun begins to set. My golden cat sits nearby, tasting his paws and grooming his coat of gold in beams of precious light. An ice cream truck plays "Merrily, merrily, life is but a dream" and mercifully fades into the distance. Crows caw and sparrows chirp outside my window.

Earlier as I drove home from yoga with the convertible top down, the sun shone on my warm, moist skin as the wind blew my hair wildly across my face. "Unwritten" poured from the stereo and as I looked overhead, a pure white seagull pierced the light denim sky. Heaven on earth. Reverence for these small, great things. Majestic. Awesome.

Fuschia-colored peonies. Miniscule ants of ebony. Golden fur and fluff. Gentle breeze. Strong-brewed coffee crinkling over ice. The feel of glorious, perfect sunshine after days of gray to numerous to count. Strength of my body bending backwards and sinking my spine into the floor. Sweat on my brow. Air moving down my throat and into my lungs, then pressing out again. Dirt beneath my fingernails. Smell of freshly mowed grass. Blisters on my feet. Lavender bubbles in my tub. Crushed ice and freshly squeezed lemon. My daughter's endless legs teetering on silver heels as she heads to prom. Lilting country music drifts from the stereo. An evening fading. A night beginning. A body well loved. A heart received. A spirit full.

These are a few of the things I've noticed today - paid attention to - revered. Oh, that I could speak from their knowledge. Perhaps tomorrow.

"yoga" SoulCollage card by lucy

rhythms and rest

"...whatever you see your soul to desire according to God, do that thing, and you shall keep your heart safe." - the desert fathers

is it appropriate to follow the desert fathers with an Aaarrggh? i've already written this post once, and it disappeared into thin air... no wonder i'm computer-resistant these days!! (note to self - breathe.) ok...early this morning i was sitting here pondering which way my day might flow and an e-mail popped into my inbox. it was from a reader who i've been in correspondence with, and she was wondering if i'm alright and might perhaps be struggling with something i need or want to share. as i responded to her, i realized she had prompted the post for which i was looking these past couple of days. thus, i'm sharing a synopsis of those words here (so in reality, this is the 3rd time i've written this post. Aaarrgghh). one more deep breath.

i find myself to be in an interesting place of internal stillness (i.e. things are quiet not only externally, but also internally as the mindless chatter has slowed to a near nonexistent pace). my husband is out of town for a couple of weeks and my 17 year old daughter requires minimal attention from me, so i have some spaciousness in life and seem to find myself just being. aslan has also attached himself to me like velcro, and it's rather difficult to be "productive" with 9 pounds of purring fluff planted in your lap. consequently, i've chosen to surrender to his masterful spiritual direction and settle into the rhythm.

if there is an overarching struggle, it may have something to do with the multitude of feelings around my young son being incarcerated. it's a challenging road to navigate and one that few (any?) people i know personally have walked. my beautiful boy turns 21 next wednesday, so as i write to you i realize i may be experiencing solitude in solidarity with his solitary confinement.

in contrast, much of my days are spent giving and listening to others which truly feels like gift to me (and hopefully them as well) - so i am listening to my own rhythm as i have the time and it feels perfect. yesterday, i felt like i had a little spa day - i went to yoga early in the a.m., followed by my exercise routine, a stroll in the misty rain, my favorite hot latte and a few hours curled up with zen kitty while finishing a great book.

so, there you go... i hope you don't mind sharing this e-mail response/stream of awareness with me today. it's always such a delight to find a writing prompt through cyberspace. now, it's my turn...

how are the rhythms of your days falling into place? is there spaciousness to experience internal and/or external rest? what would your private "spa day" include?

morning's whirlwind

Focusing on breath, yet finding I scarcely have time to breathe.
Listening to the cat's purr - wishing I could be so content.
From where has this whirlwind of my mind come? How can I make it stop?
I've typed over a thousand words this morning. Breathed a dozen cleansing breaths.
Started and stopped and still...
the tornado of ideas and creations and concerns whirls through my mind,
creating it's own wind tunnel of chaos.

Yesterday, I walked in the wind. I felt Spring's air upon my bare legs -
my skirt floating on the breeze of God and the steps of my desire.
I watched the newly bursting lilac blooms nod to me as I passed by.
A floating kite appeared in the sky, its imaginary string held in my palm.
I paused and naughtily picked a dandelion puff and blew the seeds into the wind,
(being mindful, of course, to avoid the neatly manicured lawn along my path.)

Wind. Breath of God. Ruach.
I write and I recall those moments of bliss,
and in the recollection, I am once again - if only for a moment-
Present.

photo circa 1997 © h3 images - artwork currently on display here and here.

Dancing Molecules

Oh man, I feel like my whole personhood is being reorganized on a molecular level – spiritually, emotionally and physically. Scientifically, this makes a lot of sense, due to my recent experience with Lifespan Integration (LI). LI is a form of therapy said to operate on a cellular level by using principles of neuroscience whereby the body and mind work together maximizing neural plasticity to effect change. Have I lost you? My simple version is that by incorporating body, mind and spirit simultaneously, a new internal map is created in how we experience our lives and the world.

So, … I’ve been feeling slightly spacey the last couple of days, while also experiencing a heightened attunement to my intuitive skills. My right brain has been operating in high gear which has left my language skills lagging a bit behind. Even as I try to write this, I realize all I really want to do is look at pictures and listen to music. I had an irresistible urge to stop and buy daffodils on my way home from the Novena this afternoon. While it may sound as though I've lost my left-brain marbles, Spirit seems to be present at every turn and astounding moments of grace continue showing up.

Last year’s internal battle with exclusion from communion was replaced today by a clearly felt, unhindered invitation to the table. Worshiping in the beautiful chapel, images rolled like a movie through my mind and body. When the time came for a sampling of prayers to be read from the baskets containing hundreds of requests, I was touched by each reading: the nephew in Iraq, a friend with cancer, prayers for healed relationship, and so on. I don’t know about you, but in those moments I always have a little anticipatory wish that my own prayer will be chosen, and today my wish was granted. My heart overflowed as I heard aloud the prayer for my children, and I solidly felt the presence of One greater than I. Another shift in the molecular puzzle clicked into place.

It’s been quite a Lenten season and we’re only midway through. My heart is shifting. My soul is healing. My brain is re-patterning. My molecules are dancing. Who knows where I’m going… but it’s an amazing journey so far.

I’ve missed you and would love to know where you are these days. Stuck? Dancing? Floating? Wandering? Feel any molecular shifts lately?

photos from Old Ballard '10

Gift

Pinned.
I can’t move.
His purr vibrates against my chest.
The rise and fall of breath beneath my palm.
Soft golden fur caresses my fingertips.
Warm breath, steamy on my wrist.

We rise and fall together.
Breathing.
Only this moment exists.
His wisdom says,
“This is enough.”

He shows me what it’s like
To push your way into love & care.
“This is what I need right now.
This is what you need, too,"
I hear the gentle murmur.

No need to rush
Or hurry
Or read
Or think
Just…

Feel the rise and fall
The beating of our hearts
The rhythm of two connected as one
In the gentle breaking dawn

My gift for the day.
Take it with you and
Hold this place of rest
Calm
Stillness
God.

Learn from the wisdom of
This one
Who knows only now
Who knows the embrace of
The one who loves

Summer Soul Singing...Slowly

It’s always hard to know where to pick up when you’ve been away from anything (blogging, home, friends, etc.) Reading Christine’s post, Summertime Slowness, I am reminded to pause and savor these moments as I re-enter home life after being gone for two weeks. The time was spent with my family of four and so I do not feel pressure to catch up with them or recount my time away.

We had a wonderful house sitter, so my home is in order with no need to deep clean or sort through piles of mail. The air is fresh outside and I long to linger in my bed as I catch up on e-mail and sprinkle in a few to-do’s along the way. Amazon Fresh delivered groceries to my doorstep before dawn and my sweet husband put them away and placed fresh flowers in a vase. I have appointments and meetings scheduled throughout the rest of the week, but for now I have the luxury of entering this time slowly.

As I recount my past weeks of travel I am aware that many of the moments I most enjoyed were the seemingly small and slow ones I could savor. Here are a few that come to mind:

• Waking up to the sunshine and delighting in my morning latte
• Watching snails move along the tide pool
  
• A mid-afternoon nap
• Coming face to face with a bunny in a field
• Seeing Christ Church for the first time
• Watching my children surf
• Rubbing the ears of a dog
• Strolling through Central Park
• Feeling my husband’s arm around my shoulder
• Entering the cool of The Cloisters with the rush of the world drifting away
• Singing “How Great Thou Art”
• Sharing a glass of wine with my niece
• Watching the sunset over the Olympic Mountains on our return ride from the airport
  
• Unlocking the door to our home
• Sleeping in my own bed
• Delighting in my morning coffee…

So, how is your summer pace? Are things frantic and rushed or are you allowing yourself time to see and savor each precious moment? Can you name the moments when your soul sings?

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

Morning Mindfulness

A few days ago a friend asked me how I “fight for my personal freedom everyday”. It was a question that I understood and one that I take very seriously. As I helped wrap up a Soltura workshop a few days ago, I shared that if you think you can have an amazing “experience” and then the experience will carry you through without working at it, you are sorely mistaken. So, how do we hold onto those amazing experiences when they enter our lives? How do we stay connected with God or Spirit or Universe or Ourselves?

Well…I have a variety of ways that I try to do this. Morning pages and journaling. Centering Prayer. Lectio Divina. Sharing story with others. Giving without thought of receiving. The list could go on and on, but one that resonates with me and that we can do anytime and anywhere (without having to set aside “special” time for it) is being mindful of the present moment. Right now is all we have. What does it look like to embrace the potentially mundane of the day? (And I say “potentially”, because once you become mindful and connected, nothing really seems mundane anymore.)

This same day that I conversed with my friend, Lisa, I had earlier walked to my chiropractor’s appointment which is about 1 ½ miles away. I was so stunned by the beauty of the moment that I was prompted to use my little phone recorder to capture the morning’s essence.

The sky is alive this morning. God everywhere. The touch of the hydrangeas. The smell of the rosemary. The squirrel darting out to meet me on the sidewalk. The mom with her big old dog. Her baby swaddled in the stroller. The dog pulling her around the stop sign. Smiling, it takes me back to those times with Jane when she was a babe. Now it is she that pulls me not the dog anymore for he is gone. The sky. The birds. Christine taking flight. Fire and flight. Powerful combination. I see the birds lined up on the telephone wire. I see the fingers of God. The rays of the sun coming through the clouds. It is a gift. I am overcome. I am one. The world has disappeared. I am sky. I am clouds. I am flight. I am the telephone wires. I am the dog wrapping myself around the stop sign. I am the baby bundled in the stroller. I am the little girl standing on the porch saying good morning. She is brave and bold as she tells her old dog not to bark at me. I am enlightened. I am alive.

(a recommended pause and breathe here ☺)

So, what brings you alive? How do you stay connected to your true essence – your personal freedom? What gives you flight or starts your blaze? If you can’t answer any of those questions…what are you waiting for? Come join me in this flame of New Year!

photos from my neighborhood