It’s 9 A.M. on Sunday morning. The booming sound of shots Pierces the quiet atmosphere. Usually like clockwork The shots of gunfire ring like a Sunday sermon. In those moments at the range, You feel connected to a higher power. You may even feel that power in your hands. The handgun is a tool. There’s challenges, targets, and goals. You can set your eyes on the prize. Like all good things It can be loud, hot, and messy With occasional painful flying projectiles Of the shell casings. When the round is complete, We all work together to clean up the debris. Maybe that’s what I crave sometimes. Working together so we can enjoy A distraction and clutter-free space. It’s all in the expectation and communication of the group. We can protect ourselves with safety precautions. Be responsible Americans. The target is clear and tangible. We can see our growth and our setbacks. Each day is an opportunity to try and improve Again and again.
Category: Connection
Stories connect us
All Hallows Eve
Out of the darkness the dead walk among the living. The veil is thin and ripe. So the line between the two worlds is easily crossed It’s a wonder to see If I open my mind and see what lies before me in the present moment. We dress the part so that the living may take part in the sacred dance to the edges of the horizon and to new shores. Palm in palm we walk in the dark exploring with a flashlight. Will we be surprised at who crosses our path? Will we recognize the familiar behind the mask and the costume? Will we run and tremble with fear? Can I hold the line and be a safe haven for the lonely and the scared? For one day we will have to take the one-way pilgrimage to the other side and follow the well-grooved path to see where it leads. Tonight we pretend that we are walking among what is unreal now made real and tangible. A valley that is easily crossed for those who open their minds and their hearts and accept what lies before them Even through a dark and scary night.
Greet the Day
I awake each day and darkness greets me. The morning commuters drive by And then there are crickets. I reflect on the polarities of life. It can be a whirlwind of noise and activity. It can also be quiet and still. I welcome and embody the silence. Either polarity is not a permanent feature of life. The rollercoaster of ups and downs: The hard work and effort, And the gift of glorious ease. Duality often occurs in the same time and place. I know the sun will rise and light will peek through the curtains by the time my morning ritual is done. I’m ready to greet the day Not knowing what’s next to come.
Buried Treasure
There was a car on fire last week. A red Hyandai Sante Fe. The entire front engine was engulfed in flames. It was stopped on the highway In the lane I typically travel on my morning commute. The traffic was at a standstill. Slowly the lanes began to merge over. I passed the fiery carnage. The flames were so hot, I could feel them Licking and heating up my driver side window. I couldn’t look to see if there was a person trapped. It was peculiar and strange. As the cars started trickling back onto the empty highway, I felt a sense of belonging with the other cars and trucks. We all just witnessed that. Now we’re trying to get back to our commutes, Back to reality, But we all shared an experience. Though we may never meet and talk about it. As individuals in our culture and society, we feel immune to the real world. Our cars give us a sense of self-importance. This experience made me realize that even sharing the road Denotes a connection. We may keep distracted with work, devices, and busyness Claiming busy as a badge of honor. We’re all busy. But how do you live? What lights you up when the workload fades into the background For just a moment? No longer surrounded by grasping or striving, What else is there to discover? Do you have a buried treasure of your own Just waiting for you to be still enough To observe its shine and discover its potential?
In the Whole Scheme of the Cosmos
As we head toward the Equinox, The sun greets me a little later each passing day. I imagine the sun trying to peek over the horizon. The earth spins and rotates And has its own cycles and rhythms. We try to make sense of it all And plan our lives around the earth. It takes a whole year for the earth to cycle the sun. So, on this day, the earth was exactly on this particular orbit. That’s how the planets and stars align At those rare times that astronomers keep track of. There’s always something going on in the sky, Even the minute. It’s all fascinating And often goes unnoticed. When we’re so self-absorbed in our own lives, Surviving, working, Our issues and problems feel so monumental. But when you look up at the sky, Those issues and problems somehow feel smaller In the whole scheme of the cosmos.
Seen and Heard
In the subtle quiet moments of solitude
There is time to pause and examine
The obscure thoughts that enter my mind.
My heart finds a steady rhythm,
A glowing jewel that is the ultimate dance of life.
I write and reflect on the obscure and profound,
What is deeply personal to me
On any particular day.
I reconnect to that child,
Who may have hidden parts of herself
That society deemed inappropriate
Only to emerge onto the page,
Uncensured, for my eyes only.
I understand there are risks
For living an examined life.
The appropriate societal norms
Are under the magnifying glass.
And I can truly see them for the first time.
I am encouraged, not disheartened.
Change and growth is always possible.
Even my own beliefs and values have changed
And evolved into a reflection of my adult life.
I am inspired, not recoiled
As I try my best to stay mindful.
I am seen and heard,
If only through my own eyes and ears.
It is enough.
It is what truly matters.
Outside the Door
The soft earth awakens. Fresh dewdrops cling To the blades of grass, To my picnic table, To the windows of my car. Outside the Door The sun has begun Its ascent above the skyline. And its rays begin To splay upon the horizon. In the beginning, Where did man lie down his head each night? Did the morning dew greet him Each sunrise as he awoke? Did he sleep under the stars, In the open air, Or did he seek shelter most nights? The earth is soft and lush. Outside the Door The heat of the summer Has already begun to take ahold. The breeze is my reprieve. The birds are my companion. As we share a moment In the early dawn Before the sunrays get too bright And I, too, must take shelter From the blazing sun.
Can I accept and allow change into my heart?
When I resist with all my might, My energy and attention Can get swept away. I no longer feel grounded. I have lost my connection To mindfulness, To this present moment. And it feels like A contradiction To my intention To go with the flow. Maybe it’s because I am aware that the Friction of change Is so strongly felt. Of course, I may get Lost in the struggle, In the will to be right, And to brush up against What I’d like things to be Versus the reality. It is a mighty struggle And one I encounter almost daily. I am faced with a choice. Do I paddle upstream Against the current And all which is out of my control? Do I want to expend all that Wasted energy and effort At the cost of missing The present moment, The only moment that really counts? This is the flow that I intend to embody. I won’t always get it right. I’ll forget and fall into the habit of struggle. That is the beauty of life. We are presented with countless opportunities To wake up, to pause. And where there is awareness, Acceptance is possible.
Have Patience
Have Patience I told myself Over and over again. I knew the advice was sound But I was so impatient! And lonely. I was tired And fed up with being alone, of not finding a connection of not finding “The One.” Have Patience As the old advice goes. I thought I could rush the process Get to the finish line Without doing the necessary work. What I didn’t know was It was all divine timing. Even though in the messy middle, I couldn’t find the lifeline. My desires seemed just out of reach. I needed a helping hand, a boost. It was a hard narrow space And I felt stuck. The vault to my heart was locked and well-guarded. I didn’t want to be vulnerable, to be open to being hurt again. What I now know is Where there is vulnerability, There is an opening, A softening to receive love. There I will find strength. If I can’t be vulnerable With the one I love, The relationship is not authentic. The foundation is fragile and loose. Once I found I could be vulnerable With another, I found safety In letting down my guard And it was strength, not a weakness. That it was true connection, True intimacy. And I finally found my loving partner.
WAITING
I’ve been writing morning pages for seven months now with no missed days. The page was always there in my notebook Just patiently waiting until I was ready to commit. Imagine all the things that lie dormant and in wait. Waiting for motion, Waiting for something bigger, Waiting for the right time, Forgotten, Re-shelved, Undone, And redone. Just waiting. And I always held the key Even if I forgot Or temporarily lost it. Once found, I used the door To the page And found myself waiting. To be great, To heal, To creatively express And be an authentic version of myself. And that is why I show up Again and again For myself Because I’m the only one who can.
Healing Insights 