Every day someone dies
So Muslim women may ride a bus safely,
So people can say what they truly feel,
So concert-goers may enjoy without fear,
So I may relax in my home with peacefully sleeping dogs.
I give thanks for the virtuous warriors.
You write it: For what do you give thanks?
I take no medication except during allergy season, so when my new doctor suggested I take a prescription to boost my thyroid function, I resisted. I'm not in the range where the medication is recommended; I'm just close, so taking it was optional.
After a couple of conversations with her, I agreed to give it a try. My experiment lasted three days. On the third day I felt irritable and didn't get my usual good night's sleep.
I'm simply not willing to put something in my system that disturbs my peace.
This morning I realize that I want this decision to extend to my negative thoughts and judgments. I choose not to allow what other people say and do to come into my system.
I hope someday to have the peace and grace to allow negativity to simply flow around, not through, me.
You write it: What do you do when someone or something threatens to disturb your peace?
Quiet--Sun dappling through green leaves
Soft rain--Flowers simply blooming
You write it: What brings you peace?
On this beautiful spring day,
Two dear people with broken bones
Begin their recovery from the crash.
The road that leads to our home
Lies bare, awaiting a new surface.
RECONSTRUCTION.
You write it: What in your life is being reconstructed?
We learn behaviors from a very young age. Sometimes we learn them from other people; sometimes we simply write the scripts ourselves. Sometimes those scripts don't serve us very well. Then it's time to rewrite.
Just a few minutes ago, for example, my husband wanted to show me some photographs. I had my mind on what I needed to be doing, including writing this blog. I noticed the tension in my body as I found it difficult to simply sit and listen to what he had to say.
A friend I talked with today has been given a trip to Istanbul. She has an old script that says she isn't worthy of such a generous gift. She was having a hard time enjoying the possibilities. She wants to rewrite her script.
Another friend I spoke with today has been overwhelmed by a recent move. This person has recently rewritten her life script so that she was resting and taking time for herself--until this move. Temporarily, her old script that says she can't take time for herself when there's much to do, took over.
When we know it's time for change, what do we write into new scripts? Take time to breathe, to meditate; do one thing you love every day; write or say one thing you're grateful for. These simple acts shift energy and begin to guide the writing of a new script.
You write it: What old script is it time for you to change? What will you do differently?
Recently I streamed a spiritual conference in which one of the presenters, Cynthia Bourgeault, used this analogy: If during contemplation or meditation, your mind won't stop chattering, imagine a pair of windshield wipers that clear your it. And if, once your mind is clear, the chatter comes back, imagine that you've set the wipers on "intermittent" and see them clear the space again.
Since I heard this powerful analogy, I've used it not just for meditation but for all the negative, critical, or discouraging thoughts that sometimes lodge in my mind. Windshield wipers. It works.
You write it: What do you do when mental chatter gets in the way of your peace of mind?
Several years ago my husband and I went to Cyprus. It was an amazing trip, full of discoveries and surprises. One of those surprises was no washcloths in the hotel bathroom. Towels, yes. Washcloths, no.
The first day we walked along the sea, with shops and restaurants and street vendors, one of whom was selling sponges harvested from the Mediterranean. Of course, I bought one to serve as a washcloth! Ever since, that sponge has rested on the corner of my bathtub. I haven't used it since Cyprus. (I have washcloths.)
Last week, noticing how dry the sponge was, I threw it away with the realization that I what I need continues to be provided. I just don't need a sponge any more.
You write it: Are you clinging to some solution that worked in the past but is no longer needed?
I used to believe that I had to do everything all by myself, making life more stressful than it truly is. I could not accept aid or comfort.
Along the way, I changed. I came to realize that I just couldn't go it alone any more, and I started accepting help. I changed a lifelong pattern.
Last week our precious dog Teddy had surgery for a torn ACL, and when I saw his condition after surgery, I was heartbroken and anxious. In the night, as I held him close to comfort him, he lifted his paw for me to rub his tummy--the first sign that the Teddy I love was still there. I started to breathe.
Early the next morning, texts of encouragement started to ping my phone, the first one from a friend who didn't even know what I was going through.
When we decide to change, the field of our existence shifts. Helpers come.
You write it: When have helpers come for you? What help would you like right now?
I no longer earn a salary and define my worth through professional accomplishments. So what counts?
Lately I've felt as though I'm just aimlessly drifting. Then I had a conversation with my dear cousin. I asked, "What do you do with your time?" She said, "Oh, I'm so busy! I walk 5 miles a day. I take care of my home, and there's always lots to do. Yesterday I planted flowers in the front bed."
To myself I thought, "That counts?!" Then I realized, "Yes. That counts."
If I'm kind and affirming to my husband, that counts. If I clean the outdoor grill, that counts. If I have a heart-to-heart talk with a friend, that counts. If I text my children to have a good day, that counts. Starting today, I will count living well as worthy, fulfilling accomplishment.
You write it: How do you define your worth?
On a beautiful spring day women gather for a style show.
A friend's daughter has complications from breast cancer.
A politician rants.
A woman decides to marry.
I breathe.
You write it: How do you bring the disparate aspects of life into oneness?
I look around my bedroom as I awaken to see my photograph of light coming through a Hawaiian rainforest. As my eyes pan the room, there's an exquisite Asian beaded wall hanging, a gift from a grateful friend. Two small angels, gifts from friends, look down from a high shelf. Just looking at these treasures evokes love, pleasure, and adventure. As I awaken, my spirit lifts.
I hear a lot these days about our relationship with things. I choose to be selectively surrounded with what brings out the best in me.
You write it: What surrounds you? Does it bring out the best in you?
When I reached down to pick up the poop our dog had just deposited, I saw treasures--rose shapes, with the texture of papery pine cones. They had fallen from a deodar cedar. When was the last time you discovered one of nature's treasures?
On this cold, cloudy day,
A woman lies unconscious on her kitchen floor.
Friends gather to discuss a book.
A young woman rejoices that she has learned how to live.
You write it: In any day, there is something to celebrate. What do you celebrate today?
There's a stream called life, and I'm in it. Just floating--accepting--noticing--feeling truly alive.
You write it: How would you describe your life today? How do you want it to be?
I spent much of my life making things happen--doing projects--charting my course.
Today I focus on my breathing--live in gratitude--and wait for the path to appear.
Simplicity and peace.
You write it: How do you spend your life?
"Love is patient. Love is kind. Love keeps no record of wrongs." 1 Corinthians 13.
"Someday, after we have mastered the winds, the waves, the tides, and gravity, mankind shall harness for God the energies of love. Then, for the second time in the history of the world, we will have discovered fire." Teilhard de Chardin
You write it: When have you loved? When have you felt most loved?
In my mother's home hung a framed quotation by Max Ehrmann--a 1927 poem called "Desiderata." Recently I was reminded of a portion that goes like this: "Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story."
What reminded me of this quotation was a friend in my book club. In our last meeting, we discussed a book that several women in the group did not like, and they were harsh in their criticism. My friend sat quietly, listening to their comments. Then she said, "I had a different experience from many of you. Here's what I liked and appreciated about this book." She explained without arguing. She didn't try to convince anyone or justify her position. She spoke her truth clearly, simply and quietly and then went silent.
Powerful.
You write it: What do you do when you are in the presence of people who are strongly expressing opinions you disagree with?
On the other side of the dream is the stuff of other dreams. We dream it--live it--then dream again, in a pattern that weaves our lives.
Think about it: How have dreams led you through your life? How have your dreams changed? What is your dream right now?
It's difficult to speak the truth in love, but that's what these times require. We must say what we truly need to say without judgment or condemnation. This is the ultimate form of respect--for ourselves and for others.
You write it: What do you truly need to say?
A friend lent me a wooden jigsaw puzzle--the first one I had ever seen. It is an elegant creation with beautiful, interesting pieces of unusual shapes. Challenging and fun, working it reminded me of several important truths:
