Speaking out…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All great questions must be raised by great voices,

and the greatest voice is the voice of the people –

speaking out –

in prose, or painting or poetry or music;

speaking out –

in homes and halls, streets and farms, courts and cafes –

let that voice speak

and the stillness you hear will be

the gratitude of mankind.

~ Robert F. Kennedy ~

Thanks and giving…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought,

and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.

 

~ G. K. Chesterton ~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving to you…

 

 

 

 

grateful for it all…

Wholeness does not mean perfection: it means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life  ~ Parker Palmer ~

Cultivate the ability to say, “Thank you for everything,” and you will find that everything is a gift.  ~ Alan Cohen ~

Could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy  ~ Kahlil Gibran ~

I know I write fairly often about gratitude here and I do my best to live from a grateful place every day.  I succeed, too, more often than not, although there are days that seem to be determined to break down my resolve.  Those days are full of people, places and events which test me in ways beyond words – the days when it seems nothing will ever go “right” every again.  And “right” means my way, my wishes, my plan, of course.

And then I remember.  It’s not my plan.  No way, no how.  It is so much bigger than that. The universe has plans for me – for all of us – that are far, far more complex and beautiful than my addled brain can even imagine.  And when I look at it that way – blue sky, open fields, no end in sight – well, I become grateful for “those days”.

Do you remember rock tumblers?  If I am recalling correctly, you would add grit – rough dirt, in essence – to pale, uninteresting, plain rocks and let it run for hours and hours. It was unbelievably loud, and after your parents had migraines and the whole house had shaken a bit, you could open it up and after a few rounds of different graded grit rubbing those rocks, there would be beautiful, polished, colorful stones.

That’s what life does to us.  The beautiful, sunny, agreeable days?  We all love them and can openly express gratitude for each and every one.  The days when our wills are thwarted, disease strikes, our homes or our bodies violated?  Not so much. And that’s ok.  We are human.  It is tremendously difficult, often impossible to see the good when we are in the midst of the awful.

Later, though, when we step back and look at it with a little (or a lot) of distance and time between us?  It’s clear as a bell.

I’ve been writing the story of my journey from an incredibly difficult start towards feeling  more welcome in the world, and that involves a whole lot of looking back at events and relationships that most would avoid even reading about, frankly.  It’s not hard, though, to view it through a lens of gratitude now.  And judging from these quotes, I am not the only one to discover this peace.  I only hope I can share it as beautifully.  I wrote this earlier this week, in a moment of wonder.  I hope it brings you some of that same peace.

What may appear to be dark, even very dark, is only there to usher in the light that sits just behind it.  ~ clg ~

 

I’ve been invited to a Link Party over at Meredith’s lovely blog, A Mother Seeking… this is new to me, and it seems to be a wonderful idea.  Come and check it out here!

More than enough…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If my world were to cave in tomorrow, I would look back on all the pleasures, excitements and worthwhilenesses I have been lucky enough to have had. Not the sadness, not my miscarriages or my father leaving home, but the joy of everything else. It will have been enough.

~ Audrey Hepburn ~

Timeless words…

The one who loses patience with us
is the one who stays and protects.

You are the iris and the rose
and the fall that ruins the flowers.

Sing the spring and admit that you are also thorn.
Everything that exists is talking and not talking at once.
Everything looks at and walks through you.

The nightingale bestows a definite desire.
There is the ocean and the bridge.
There are these two or three numbered days.

I am none of those.
I am more the way you are,
flowers opening and the soul in silence,
but something in you will not let me keep quiet.

I try to hide like a clever quarry,
but you hunt the hunter and the prey.
You purify by staying apart.

The fragrance of everyone’s laughter
is your work and your gift to us,
as well as the weeping.

~ Rumi ~

I always hesitate to write anything after a Rumi poem, but here I go. Again.

On the days when the world is a little much, when things seem backwards or inside out or upside down, when I am sure that I am not in tune with the planet in general, I read Rumi. I read his words and know that nearly eight hundred years ago, somewhere in the Middle East, someone else’s heart felt what mine does. And I take comfort in that.

And on the days when the beauty of the earth almost overwhelms me, when I can’t count the stars because there are so many, when I am startled by what my eyes relay to my soul, I read Rumi. I read his words and know that his heart was open too, that he saw what I see, that there was so much good in his day – as much as there is in mine. And it makes me feel at home.

To me, his beautiful and timeless poems are proof positive that we are never alone. Every day.

The fabric of a full heart….

For the first time in a long time, I don’t have words put together for you.

My heart is so very full, my brain is way over capacity, my body ready to rest.

I spent Friday evening and all day Saturday with a few hundred people, all in some phase of the bravest of human work: the opening of hearts. Led by the generous and wise Tara Brach, Mark Epstein and Jack Kornfield, we explored what it means to live in the world with an open heart and a mindful intention. There were people from all walks of life and all orientations, all wanting to wake up to their true nature, to the original wonder of all of our souls. Some were just beginning to meditate and others of us have had decades of practice, although most everyone seemed to be beginning in some way, or recommitting themselves to living right here, right now, whenever possible.

The wisdom and grace and good intent in the room was palpable. Even those who came with only the idea that it might be an interesting way to pick up some CE credits must have felt that energy. I’ll share more words with you from these beloved teachers as time goes on. For now, though, know that there is so much good out there, if we can just find our way past our stories and get to know ourselves all over again. If we can learn to love ourselves, so that we might love others. If we can slow down enough to see what is right there in front of us each day.

My heart is like this photograph – full of color, of pattern, of texture. It is full of grief, of awe, of love. And of gratitude for each of you who meet me here each day.

Namaste, my friends, namaste.