Confederate statues are removed.
Children heal in a neighborhood garden.
A billionaire celebrates his first space flight.
Photos of children killed by a tyrant are aired.
Angry crowds spew hatred and lies.
An unstable country looks for leadership.
The desert breeze flows.
Outside my office window is a rock-strewn patch that was meant to be bare. But I constantly had to weed it, even though there was a fabric weed barrier under the rocks.
One day during the pandemic, I decided to put a wildflower garden in that space. I reasoned, “If weeds can grow here, so can wildflowers.” So I mixed some seeds with potting soil and simply spread them by hand, on top of the rocks. To my delight, they grew. Then they grew some more. Then they bloomed. It’s July, and different species have been blooming since February. Not only have they given the beauty of their multi-colored flowers, but they have also attracted birds, who love the seeds.
Here’s the surprise: No weeds. On the periphery, yes, a few. But not in the heart of the garden.
There’s a lesson in this story somewhere. What do you think it is?
I went back to the store to buy more of the best honey I’ve ever eaten.
The shelf was empty.
“A fire,” the clerk said. “All of the bees are dead.”
An ache pierced my heart for the innocent bees.
You write or draw it: When was the last time you felt your heart pierced?
Too many horses die under one man’s care.
Friends laugh together at dinner.
A dishonored restaurant staff quits en masse.
A power line is downed by high winds.
A fire’s fierce glow replaces sunset.
A man tells his wife he is ending their marriage.
Children squeal with delight in the resort’s pool.
A museum mounts a new exhibit.
Fountains flow.
A house finch peers curiously into the window.
Freedom. Some people die for it. Some never realize it.
But for those who do, it is a blessed state. It’s living from one’s heart—realizing full potential, free from others’ constraints and control.
Today I celebrate freedom.
When I was growing up, sharing experiences meant talking about what was bad—what someone did wrong—sharing negative judgments about ourselves and others. Someone who shared positive, uplifting experiences, as I have in the book I’m writing, would have been labeled “uppity” or “big headed” or “self-righteous.”
Recently I had to stop writing because I was drowning in the old voice of self-condemnation and limitation.
A bit later, a friend pointed out one of Sedona’s red rocks with black areas of “desert varnish,” a patina that forms through the years and increases uniqueness. Then I realized that I could think of these old voices as my “desert varnish.” They are part of a pattern that I can notice, appreciate, and walk away from.
The truth is, my state of mind and yours are a choice. And the whole truth is, we attract what we emit. We truly can live the lives we want.
A friend says, “No.”
A woman is killed by a black bear.
A single peony blooms.
Birds tend their nests.
Wildflowers bloom.
A man takes his morning walk.
Over the years, I’ve had many orchids. I love them for their beauty and the long life of the flowers. After the last one has dropped, I want the plant to bloom again. I’ve tried fertilizer, cutting them back, putting them in the right light. Nothing worked.
The last orchid I bought was purple, with beautiful blooms on three stalks. Predictably, all the blooms fell off. This time, I decided to leave the orchid alone, just sitting on the corner of my bathtub. Occasionally, when I thought of it, I would water it a bit.
To my amazement, one day buds began to appear. Today the orchid is in full bloom, with many buds awaiting their opening.
Sometimes, when I leave things alone, they take care of themselves.
You write or draw it: Have you had a similar experience? What was it?
A prince is laid to rest.
Tired vacationers return home.
A community mourns a shooting.
Children splash in the pool.
A flight takes off.
My neighbor and I share land at the tip of the cul-de-sac. Weeds have grown, browned, and become unruly to the extent that we have agreed to do something. Clearly, the offending weedy plants are to be removed.
The question is do we plant something in their place? Something more beautiful? We’ve thrown around several ideas—lavender, wildflowers, native grasses.
This morning, as I looked over my own back yard, I saw a solution. Gopher weed. It’s a succulent with a beautiful yellow bloom in the spring. It’s blooming right now. Yesterday I walked among the plants and found no weeds, so that tells me it blocks out weeds. It’s easy to grow. We have plenty of excess plants that could be transplanted, watered for a short time until they get established, and then left alone.
It seems a perfect solution that was right in front of me all the time while I stretched to find a solution.
You write or draw it: When have you struggled with a decision when the solution was in front of you all the time?
Focused on what’s right for me, I live and let live.
Our hearts lift as we see beauty and meaning in being.
A young man dies of alcohol poisoning from a fraternity party.
On a beautiful day, a golfer curses and rants when his ball goes astray.
The rising sun is obscured by dark clouds,
Yet its light sparkles on the rippling pond.
The geese have flown north.
Tiny green shoots peek through dry leaves.
Empty pots call to me from the patio.
I admire the bed of hopeful mulch.
Spring lifts my heart.
You write it: What does spring do for you?
As my life has grown increasingly peaceful, an old memory popped up, of a time when I pulled a “bait and switch” scheme on a friend. A double-cross.
Scrolling through Facebook one day, this friend’s image came up. I tracked her down, wrote a note of apology, and asked for her forgiveness.
Yesterday I found her response that she has no recollection of any wrong I did to her. The person I most hurt, you see, was me.
My friend’s kindness flooded over me, and I am free.
You write it: What is your experience with redemption?
One of Granddaddy’s favorite sayings, especially when someone was leaving the house, was “Do all the good you can.”
Yesterday we met a young man who grew up in Mexico, moved to Arizona, finished high school, and is now working for a landscaping company to make money to go to college. He’s also an accomplished soccer player.
When he played soccer as a child in Mexico, the team didn’t have soccer cleats. They played in tennis shoes. Those children in his home town, playing soccer today, still don’t have cleats. So he has started an effort to get soccer cleats to those kids. Some of his high school teachers and coaches made donations and then someone went to the newspaper. A major story appeared. People from the community started writing checks. Before long, this young man will have enough soccer cleats to fit the entire program in that little Mexican town.
You write it: What’s an example in your life of someone who did all the good they could?
Our compassion energizes us to do what’s right for ourselves and others.
As I meditated on this intention, the image of a still lake came to me. It was Moraine Lake in Banff National Park, a turquoise glacier-fed body of water surrounded by ten peaks. The lake looks still, but actually a lot is going on, with glacier melt and movement, microscopic changes. Then these words came to me: “Let it unfold.”
Is this intention relevant for you? How?
My intention partners this morning were my children. We each talked about what’s going on in our lives. My son lives in East Texas; my daughter, in Portland, OR. I’m in Sedona, AZ. At a glance, our lives seem very different. But after we shared what’s going on, I realized that each of us, in our own way, were “on the same page.” Here is the intention we agreed on: “We repair, discard, rejuvenate, and continuously renew our lives.”
For me, the rejuvenation is planning a new berm full of lavender. For them, it’s about repairing or getting rid of what no longer serves them.
You write it: Is rejuvenation going on for you? What does it look like?
I dream a world
Where the vibration of love and peace
Carries all voices.
I dream a world
Where all children learn well
Because they are well taught, well fed, well loved.
I dream a world where
Disagreements are negotiated with
Respectful words, not hatred.
You write it: What world do you dream?
