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?

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 23

Dragonfly Wisdom

Dragonfly. Damselfly. You swoop into my world unannounced. Subtle. Natural. Compelling. Dancing across the silken pond, offering me respite from my restless perch. Witnessing you in your natural habitat, it's easy to dismiss your powerful medicine. Still, you persist on your quest as you serendipitously meet me in the gem store. One tiny bead buried in the midst of thousands, you place yourself within my hand and heart - a talisman of our magical first meeting. Still, I am slow and don't consciously take notice until finally while I repose upon my landlocked deck, you spontaneously arrive and perform your splendid show in my barren yard.

You come in threes and fours until I can ignore you no more. Showing up brilliantly alive, in a bead, a word, a wing. You draw me in and tell me I can fly. It's time to spread my wings and share your light. The rainbow of colors - clear, dark, iridescent, solid and clear. Reflections deep and pure.

Oh, sweet dragonfly - subtle and not so shy. Thank you for your persistent wisdom. Is it just me who takes so long to recognize and hear what lies right along my path?

Today's Ponder inspired by Helice B. "Animal Totems." Thanks, Helice!!

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

Pondering... 30 in 30 - Day 21

The Listener

Here I sit on my lava throne - balanced and true. A pointed edge tweaks my right buttock as the shadow of my hand follows me across the page. Tendrils of freshly washed hair, curl and mix with dark and light. Turquoise blue caresses my body and my skin glows with the exuberance of fresh air and sunshine. My soul has been wrapped too long in the cocoon of winter gray. The element of air beckons to be acknowledged. Earth and stone cradle my body. The heat of sun warms my skin as hungry eyes feast on the gift of water. Lily pads and water bugs dance lightly across the surface reminding me of play and rest. Waterfalls feed the pond offering the gift of movement that wards off stagnation similar to that of air within a home closed up too long.

A statue mirrors my body from across the lawn. She, too, is an artist. Her form forever captured in bronze patina. Here we sit together - woman of flesh and bone - muse immobile and bronze. We both glisten in the golden light and tune our ears toward heaven. My name today is gratitude. She has been dubbed, "The Listener".

90 Seconds to Release

“Despite our fear of certain feelings, it is feeling each of them all the way through that lands us in the vibrant ache that underrides our being alive. To reach this vibrant place is often healing.” -- Mark Nepo

Life has been crazy full lately with all sorts of brilliant and shiny adventures. It’s all good, as they say. My body, however, seemed to indicate otherwise. Even amidst healthy eating, plenty of sleep and regular exercise, last week my body declared a moratorium on health. I came down with an icky cold “out of nowhere.” So, I slowed down (sort of), paid attention (with soft focus) and listened (perhaps with one ear.) Actually, I kept going – only doing the “essential” things, of course – until my body said, “Excuse me. I’d like your FULL awareness NOW.”


So, Wednesday, I woke up and I cried. Buckets. I finally let go and quit trying to analyze things and figure them out. I pushed my favorite “should” to the background – (“You should know better.”) – and just let myself be. I slowed down and got quiet. I lit a candle, played the Cistercian monks on iTunes, raged in my journal for awhile, sobbed into my pillow, wailed a little more, then went to my scheduled spiritual direction appointment where I sat with a wise listener who let me cry some more. (I hope you’re not distracted by what might have brought me to this state, because that’s not really the point… but I do appreciate your concern.)

If you’re asking what is the point, well, I just needed to let my emotions be. While I have a general idea where some of the angst arises (e.g. my mother died on Mother’s Day seven years ago and I tend to mentally forget this), the point was my body was giving me all sorts of signals that I needed a little grieving time. Again? Yes. Still? Absolutely.

We are such amazing creations and my new favorite mantra is “The body doesn’t lie.” Who would have thought that buckets of tears, some lament music, a gentle hot yoga session and ultimately oral surgery would provide the prescription to returning to my normal-feeling self? Counterintuitive, huh? Nonetheless, my blockage – both nasal and otherwise – seem to be on the pathway to clearness after following just that plan.

Brain scientist, stroke survivor and author, Jill Bolte Taylor offers that it takes only 90 seconds for the chemical release and physiological response of an emotion to be triggered, surge through our body and be completely flushed out of our bloodstream. We have a choice as to whether we mentally hold onto the pain and allow it to further poison our system, or allow ourselves the cleansing benefit of fully experiencing the surge when it arises. Wednesday I allowed my grief to expand and flow through me. It’s definitely harder than it sounds, but one of the reasons I’m recording this memory is perhaps next time, I’ll mentally get to this knowledge sooner and my body won’t have to pull out all the stops to slow me down when an uncomfortable emotion arises again. I’ve come to learn there’s nothing linear about life. We don’t get to grieve or forgive or cry, be angry or laugh just once and then be done. Life is a cyclical process that turns back on itself again and again as onward we go!

Is there an intense feeling you’ve been avoiding? Will you allow yourself 90 seconds of pure emotion today? Go ahead, throw rocks into the ocean. Crank up the blues music. Dance with abandon until your toes tingle with joy. Think about it.

Start your own Drum Circle

The sound of drums calls through the crystal blue sky. Beckoning. Singing. Saying, “Come play with us. All are welcome here.” The message is clear. “Find a perch on the grassy knoll, soak up some sunshine and live your own rhythm. Welcome to the World Rhythm Festival. Welcome to life.”

Saturday was my first experience in a community drum circle, but not my first in finding my personal rhythm. If you’ve never participated in a drum circle, it’s quite an experience. From out of the silence, a lone drummer begins. Soon another joins in, percussion instruments follow and, if you’re lucky, a bass carries the heartbeat. It’s a magical experience as multifarious people of assorted talent levels come together to create music. Dancers step into the mix and uniquely sway to the emerging beats. All elements are essential to creating this life-engaging experience.

One dancer swayed on the outer perimeter of the circle and I wondered why he steered clear of the middle and whether he longed to be center stage. Later as we had a brief conversation, I realized his perfect rhythm was to be exactly where he was – nothing more or less. Many of us don’t listen that well. If everyone isn’t doing it (whatever “it” is), we draw back because it might not be acceptable. We choose to listen to everyone else’s rhythm and find ourselves out of sync, and thus missing out on our unique part of life's harmony.

My part in Saturday’s experience was to sit on the knoll and play my djembe. I didn’t need to be the one to start or stop the circle. My role this day was harmony, and in that I was perfectly content. I was grateful for those who brilliantly began each round of music and less appreciative of those who exerted an odd power to bring the circle to an unnatural close. In practicing our personal rhythms, it’s important to know when we must follow the beat of our own drum and when it feels best to play harmony. There’s magic in listening to the pulse and finding the simpatico places both within and without.

Take a moment and imagine leaning into your own grassy knoll and soaking up the sunshine of your personal rhythm. What instrument would you play? What role would be yours? Where would you dance in the circle? What beat will you choose to follow?

World Rhythm Festival 2011 © lucy
My djembe & my friend, Carole © lucy 2011

Everyone is a teacher

Reminder to self – Everyone is a teacher.

As a group facilitator, I often have the privilege of being taught by my students. During a day of reconnecting to creativity through restoration and rejuvenation, I invited participants to select an image to introduce themselves. The images were as varied as the people around our circle, but my teacher of the day presented in the form of a sprite of a woman, weighing no more than 90 pounds fully clothed and soaking wet. Well into her 80's with hair of spun silver, she wore a bright scarlet dress accessorized with a huge medical collar strapped around her neck.

With twinkling eyes, she held in her hand, a photo of a rugged snow-capped mountain with soaring peaks. Out of her mouth came the words, "I am one who explores the trails." Incongruous as it might seem for this frail woman to make such an unflinching statement, no one who witnessed this scene doubted her. In fact, I could actually envision her roaming that mighty mountain as she shared deeply from her heart, her memory, and even her future. With her words, her stature grew and she became the towering mountain. I could see all dreams come true - hers, mine, and the world's. It was a glorious moment.

To live fully is to believe in dreams, unflinching truth and living our heart's desire. Today’s teacher demonstrated all of those wrapped in a petite package of wisdom. May we each learn from her example.

Consider today:

· What is your heart's desire?

· What trails do you hope to travel this year?

· What would it mean to speak the truth out of your deepest desires?

Anyone There?

Themes of birth, awakening and mothers float through my mind. Vivid dreams invade my night and wake me like a whisper from my sleep. I roll over, turn off the alarm and sink into that space where dreamland meets dawn. The space between past, present and future cannot be delineated and my earliest memory drifts into now. I am older than one and younger than two. Standing in my crib with an earnest look on my face, I am not crying or distressed. I appear to be reaching, perhaps not with my arms, but only with my eyes. Anyone there? My eyes stretch into the room beyond the recesses of my barred bed and beckon, Anyone there?

Isn't that the question I still ask today? In times of lament, I turn to the ancient lie I tell myself. I am not important. I will always be alone. Was no one there? Sharing my 10 year old brother's room, I wonder if he resented my presence from the beginning. I recall the black eye my mother received when she bumped the door jamb during a nightly visit to me. Would she return again?

So odd, these memories. So very interesting. Anyone there is what I continue to ask today. Will you read my work? Hold my hand? Laugh at my jokes? Kiss my lips? Notice my hair? Anyone there? Are you paying attention? Do you see me? Is it possible I still carry the look of a one year old standing in her crib - reaching and searching for connection. Anyone there?

What are the questions you ask yourself or the lies you whisper when past & present merge?

photo - Paris

Sometimes you take my breath away...

There are moments in life that simply take my breath away. It’s hard to know where they begin or how I arrive at the place I am called, but in those moments, I know I am exactly where I’m supposed to be. A power greater than I has brought me to that place. Some of the moments are so subtle they would be easy to dismiss. It’s similar to that feeling when the phone rings and you know who’s on the line before you pick up the phone.

One of those moments found me yesterday. It was a gorgeous day here in Seattle. The heavy rains lifted and the skies turned cornflower blue without a cloud to be seen. My body craved to be out in the fresh air and fortunately my schedule allowed the space to be. One of my favorite kind of walks is what I call destination walking. It’s particularly helpful when I feel like I have a lot to do, because it gives me both a break and I accomplish something. This morning I ventured to the bank while listening to a conference call. Multi-tasking at its best ☺.

With ten dollars in my pocket for coffee, I exited the bank and took my normal right turn toward Tully’s, but something inside winked at me and said – Let’s go somewhere different today. Doing a 180 degree turn, I headed back down the street and came to a shop I rarely frequent. The barista was smiling, the coffee delicious. While waiting for my latte, I glanced around the café noticing the wonderful trinkets, artisan cards and fuchsia tutu pulled over a t-shirt. With little money in my pocket, I resisted the urge to fully browse until a glittering display of necklaces caught my eye.

Coffee in hand, I turned to make my exit, but couldn’t resist the pull to take just a peek. Each necklace was like a little story on a chain. The first (and only) one into my hand contained the single word BE encased in a golden sparkly bubble. Next to the bubble were two other charms – a bee and a flower. This is the moment my breath caught. Here on one simple chain were the three lasting symbols from my Egyptian pilgrimage – word, flower, bee. The necklace was made just for me.

What’s a girl to do? No money – no real need for another necklace. They’re just things on a chain, right? So, I headed out the door back into the sunshine, sipped my latte and tried to memorize the designer’s name until I got home. Peeking at her wonderful website, my heart stopped again when I realized maybe that necklace was made JUST FOR ME, because there wasn’t another one like it on her site. Well, you have to know the rest of the story, because the picture here has given it away. The necklace is now mine and I will wear it as a proud reminder (one that came in loud and clear while on pilgrimage). It is time to BEEEEEEEEE… and all that entails for Me!!

So… I’d love to know what are your moments of simple or sublime synchronicity and serendipity? When you hear a tug that says turn around or do something different, do you listen? Who knows? You could be missing out on something made Just for You!!

photos taken 11.11.10 © lucy

Fondling a Story

Oohhh, baby, have things been stirring for me since attending "Walking into Fire." I'm moving from playing with this idea of being a writer into seeing what it feels like to live into it. My morning routine has shifted and I've added meditation into my practice and have revived my relationship with morning pages. It's like picking back up with a long lost friend - there's no lag in the conversation and topics bounce all over the place.

I'm resisting the urge to censor and refine my words here, because this is not the place for my "polished" work. Here is where I move one step up from morning pages and meet the discipline (& fear) of putting something out into the world. I'm also doing it without much thought (really?)WAAAYYY to whether or not anyone reads - even though I've noticed my reader comments are down. Oh those pesky little voices that keep us from moving forward, huh?

During the retreat on Saturday we were asked the question "What is my story as writer" in line with having a FALSE investment. This reminded me of a phrase used in Steering by Starlight called "story fondlers" referring to people who hang onto stories that keep them stuck and not moving forward. This morning I thought I'd share my personal response. It is so like my life (not surprising), because there are bits of truth woven in with a whole lot of you've-got-to-be-kidding-me!!

Writers are brilliant and know what they're going to say before they ever start writing. They understand their plot and characters and the work comes easily to them. All it takes is setting aside the time and their story will come out with little need for revision and filling in the blanks. Their stories come out rich and developed and ready for copy editing. The words flow like water and the structure falls into place without blood, sweat and tears. They send their manuscript off to be received by every publishing house they submit to.

Well, that's my story and I'm NOT sticking to it - except of course that writers ARE brilliant!! In the meantime, I'll continue to tweak my schedule, listen to my gut and WRITE!!

So, my dear friends. What's the story you fondle that keeps you from living your brilliant life?

"Steppin' out" - © lucy 2010

The Next Small Step

What happens when you start imagining what you can do and not what you can't? What happens when you do the next small thing instead of focusing on saving the world? What happens when you focus on simplicity rather than complexity? When you follow your heart rather than the world's suggestions? What happens? Simply? - Things begin to change.

Do you want change? Do I want change? Am I open to possibilities beyond my wildest imagination? Am I willing to tread on the ground of an amazing God? Will I take off my shoes because I am standing on holy ground? Even in this moment as I sit and write, the themes of my life swirl around me as I respond and answer Yes, Yes Yes! I am willing to step in AND it can be terrifying.

I've been participating in a weekly exercise called "This week, I will..." The first step being to name my weekly intention. As I sat quietly and journaled, I found "focus on the next small step" to be my intention for this week. It's a harder thing to do than one might think. I find myself easily coming up with the next step, but then quickly wanting to move to the one beyond. So, I reign myself in, slow down and do the smallest step right before me. This morning my step was to clear out my office baskets and file them into my new filing cabinet. Simple, easy and satisfying. This step was followed by going to today's reading from Mark Nepo. Here are the opening words:

"Walker, there is no path, you make the path as you walk." --Antonio Machado

The reading went on to discuss how we are constantly taking first steps and how stepping too far into the future can make us stumble like a toddler who suddenly realizes she's walking on her own momentum or a child learning to ride a bike once the parent lets go. We peddle along content in the trajectory of the present moment until we jolt ourselves into the future by realizing everything that must be done or hasn't been done or should get done...

AND so I choose the only thing I can do. I return to the present. I focus on the next small thing. I take a deep breath. I slow down and step into the holy ground of my heart. As I listen to my body, it confirms my longing. It offers the next step. It opens me up to possibility. It offers me completion and satisfaction, because you know what? I can always do the next small thing - and if that seems too overwhelming, then I back off and make it a little smaller. This reminds me of the powerful knowledge I learned a few years ago when reading The Four Agreements - One of the agreements is "Always do your best." It was incredibly freeing for me to acknowledge sometimes my "best" means staying right where I am - perhaps pulling the covers back over my head and doing only the most basic thing like breathing. So...

What happens when you focus on the next small thing instead of trying to save the world - or your family - or yourself? What happens when you focus on simplicity instead of complexity? What does the next small step look like? I invite you to consider the possibilities of creating the path as you walk. Where do you dream it will go?

shilshole crow © lucy 7.10

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

The music is everywhere...

Recently I proclaimed the movie, August Rush, as one of my top favorites. In reality, I could watch only the first five minutes and be sated especially after the opening scene when young orphan, Evan/August reminds us,

"The music is everywhere. All you have to do is listen."

My morning readings today were filled with themes of listening. Today is the Feast of the Annunciation celebrating the day Mary listened to God's messenger and announced her sacred "Yes" (or "May it be") to becoming the mother of Jesus. In The Book of Awakening, these words spoke to me,

"Listening arises from a deeper place, and it seems we can only hear the living to the extent we have truly lived, only understand pain and joy to the extent that we have allowed ourselves to be touched by life." -- Mark Nepo

And in my more academic readings, neuroscience confirms the need for deeper listening to hear what's below the words. Individuals not only hold explicit memory (which can be retrieved and reflected upon), but also implicit memory that is somatic, nonverbal and not as easily accessible for conscious reflection. (Art, music, imagination and movement are some of the ways we tap into implicit memory.)

This is a long road of background to say, I believe in the power of listening - first, to the story that resides within me; which leads to the important second - the ability to listen deeply to others. I don't believe I can do one without the other. Jesus said this more simply and eloquently:

"Love God and love your neighbor as yourself."

This post's inspiration began with an e-mail from a friend who lovingly demonstrated she had been listening to me. Said friend sent me the following horoscope, and did not know, however, I had recently created this SoulCollage® collage card - "Storm's Gift."

The storm is your friend right now, Virgo. So are the deep, dark night and the last place you'd ever think of visiting and the most important thing you've forgotten about. So be more willing than usual to marinate in the mysteries -- not with logical ferocity but with cagey curiosity. The areas of life that are most crucial for you to deal with can't be fully understood using the concepts your rational mind favors. The feelings that will be most useful for you to explore are unlike those you're familiar with. from Free Will Astrology

The music is everywhere... This Lenten season has brought new and old ways of being present to God, myself and others. Some ways feel explicit (known) and others more implicit (instinctual and at times unfamiliar). Thus the journey continues - my song - the world's song ...all we have to do is listen.

Where is the song in your life? Is there a specific tune beckoning to be heard? Will you take the time to listen and perhaps like Mary amidst her fear say, "May it be"? Do you see music in the storm or dark of night? Can you hear the music?