LIFE

Life is really an amazing, crazy, outrageously painful and contagiously thrilling adventure. I admit it, some days I don't see it like this. Some days all I see is the laundry and dishes and caked on yogurt I'm scrubbing off the dining room table. But today, I see it. The dreamer in me whispers in my ear, "dream big." The tired mother in me says, "Straighten the pile of little shoes by the front door and make sure you shower today!" The lover in me says, "notice." and "be." And they are all parts of my "me-ness" trying to burst out in to life and mesh in to one, trying to figure out how this all fits together and what it means.

Some days, I feel confused about it all, pulled in competing directions, but other days, when the lover wins out, my arms seem to stretch out broad enough to contain it all. And it all makes sense and fulfills and enriches and points me to the reason... Just to live, to feel, to be present, to be touched by the lives of others and hopefully in some way to offer something in return...

Absolutely Clear

Today I've been mourning my weakness, a bit sad that I don't aways live up to the awake-ness that I pursue in life. I know weakness in itself is an avenue of spiritual growth, but sometimes it's hard to rise above when we feel deflated.

Then I read this, among other of my favorites poems, and found myself back home, so filled up and reminded. This is just what I need.

Absolutely Clear

Don't surrender your loneliness
So quickly.
Let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft
My voice
So tender,

My need of God
Absolutely
Clear.

~Hafiz
(trans. by Daniel Landinsky)

Authenticity

Occasionally, I free write to "get it all out there." This may not be the most well-written post but it's genuine:

Authentic. The word reverberates, crashes into my shielded existence, this story that I portray as me. Authenticity sets you apart from the masked ones and yet transforms you into a reflection of what they all seem to know is their very self.

Authenticity is scary; it's sometimes painful. Open me up, make me a the still stream reflecting tree tops and sky. Break me apart, and let the pain and suffering, joy and passion pour out in puddles around our feet until someone whispers a knowing, 'yes.' Write what you know, brave soul.Explore your inner-world and draw it out into words. Coax it from hiding and fear into the glaring sun. Writers cannot be fearful creatures. We must learn to separate our true selves from the storyline so we can expose depths without trepidation.

The real truth is in the transformative possibilities of those experiences, how they change us and those around us, how they make us grow or fall. The story ebbs, only feeling endures...what surrounds us, overwhelms us, creates us. We are left standing, one outstretched arm in grasping, another withdrawn, door ajar, insides gapingly exposed. Finally, there is no difference in craving or aversion, only love remains, thrusting us forward into the arms of Other, into heart of Same.

Art
Creativity
Spirit
Love
Water
Compassion
Laughter
Trees
Silence
Pain
Thank you
Stillness
Breath
Joy
Path
Yes.

Winter and Waiting

The ground is frozen where I live, covered with a snowy blanket. It's a restful time, a peaceful season. My garden is sleeping. Trees, sprouting with new growth in the Spring, now stand dormant against the harshness of Winter. They somehow seem vulnerable in their bareness. Some types of trees have developed such a strong need for winter dormancy that if they are maintained in an artificial sunny season, perpetually growing, they will suffer from the lack of rest and almost certainly die after a a couple of years.

Could it be that we need these dormant times, too? A time to be still, rooted in the deep, frozen soil? This is the season of peace. The garden is still also, no blooms or color. In the ground, slumbering seeds await the sun's warmth to soften their beds and Spring rains to awaken them from their sleep. But first, the Winter, the Wait.

Are we willing to wait, to let our spirits be still?

Thankful Thursday: Remembering

Today I'm thankful for memory...the ability to look back over my shoulder and say "Ohhh...now I get it." True, some memories would seem to be better forgotten, but I can't ultimately feel anything stronger than thankfulness. Why? Because I've chosen the path of listening...learning from what life experiences have to teach me. So when tinges of remorse or humiliation attempt to dampen certain memories from my past, I lift my head again and listen, and remember the joy of growing in spirit.

Like a Hungry Begger

Refuse to fall down.
If you cannot refuse to fall down,
refuse to stay down.
If you cannot refuse to stay down
lift your heart toward heaven
and like a hungry beggar,
ask that it be filled
and it will be filled.
You may be pushed down.
You may be kept from rising,
But no one can keep you from lifting
your heart toward heaven--only you.
It is in the middle of misery that
so much becomes clear.
The one who says nothing good came of this,
is not yet listening.

~Clarissa Pinkola Estes~