The mystery of love: How precious, rare, Amazing and alive it feels when it is reciprocated and shared. The mystery of the body: The hormones, chemical compounds, the tissues and organs. Each unique and together They manifest into the whole. The mystery of creativity: Where a word, thought or prompt sparks the Imagination and I am writing again. The mystery of Modern technology: How it is new and novel terrain Yet ingrained into Every day life. The mystery of life: A sudden arrival without any effort And the path of Potential that Each life holds. The mystery of Earth: How our planet came to Be in the best position To create and sustain life. The mystery of watching steam float up from my coffee mug. The mystery of the flame Dancing atop my candle. The mystery of the glow in the darkest night. And the mystery of my role in it all.
Category: Connection
Stories connect us
Remember (part 2)
I don’t remember being born or how I came to be. I arrived and here I am. I don’t remember the very early years, So dependent on my mom. Her love, her safety The spaces we occupied. My first memory I remember is when I was two. My siblings and I were playing with a plastic toy house. My uncle blew cigarette smoke through the second-story windows. It was such a delight to see the shape, the form the floating vapors that defied gravity. I remember winters of sledding down the hill in the backyard on my mom’s childhood Flying Arrow sled. The joy and momentum of the downhill slope. I remember our swing set with metal frames and hard plastic seats that brought me to far away places only in my mind. I remember learning to roller skate for the first time. Clinging to the side wall as I found my balance, my courage, and eventually my confidence to skate on my own with grace and speed. There are so many moments that I may not remember. But the ones I do are cherished. And they connect me to my siblings and stand the test of time as they shaped and formed who I am today.
In darkness
Each morning I awake in darkness. My mind tricks me that it’s still night. But the alarm can’t be wrong, Can it? So I grumble a little Then I sit up and swing my legs to the side of the bed. I take sweet side stretches Awakening my muscles and side body. Only then will I stand up And greet the day. I begin my morning yoga in pure darkness. The only light emanates from my iPad as I start a yoga video. My personal asana practice is quiet. Everyone else is slumbering. They, too, feel that it is still night. Too dark to awaken. So I enjoy the solitude and present moment to connect breath and movement. My yoga practice ends with a brief meditation. Then I click on a lamp so I can write in my mindset journal. Sometimes I write about last night’s dream Like a real, tangible memory deep in my mind. Oftentimes, I like to write my lunar affirmation and intention three times in a row in my notebook. That is my ideal morning trifecta while the sun is still in slumber. My favorite time of the year is when the sun rises while I’m in the shower. I see its rays peek behind the curtains and begin their path up along my bathroom wall. If I time it just right, the whole shower gets illuminated in fresh morning light. For now I will have to wait for the synchronicity of getting to bathe in sunlight. It is all right. I can wait. My morning routine is a constant even when the sunrise is not.
The Deciduous Tree
The deciduous tree does not appear as it once stood just one month ago. Its outstretched arms are glowing against the backdrop of the deep blue sky. Splotchy green with yellow or browned edges. Yet the mighty maple is just the sum of its many tiny parts. The branch reaches toward the sky on its solid trunk. A resting place for tiny buds that blossomed and burst into a big bold green. Seeds descended and dispersed. And now we get to see the leaves’ true colors. The deciduous tree does not get to choose when it’s time to blossom or seed. It is synched to the rhythm of nature beyond our concept of time. The seasons connect me and ground me in a world that always seems to be spinning faster and faster, Almost off-kilter Off balance. As the cycle of the season begins I’m suddenly reminded of the color, the beauty, the cycles of nature that surround me. Always there. A constant reminder that I, too, am a child of nature and connected to the timeless rhythms that surround me.
Candlelight
The autumn sky grows darker each passing night. The sun takes her time enjoying a late slumber. She knows when it’s time to rest and time to play. Candles warm the senses like a warm mug of herbal tea. Artificial light could never equal its warm amber glow. I marvel at the flame, how it flicks on the wick. A quiet solitary dance atop my candle. And when I blow out the flame, I make a small wish: To live another day. To appreciate the day’s gifts. To remember my intention And breathe in the lessons. There’s a small trail of smoke that lingers above a red yet fading wick. Remnants of what was once there. The wax erodes in tandem with the passing of time. And I am aglow inside and out.
Five ways of looking at the breath
1. Deep, slow rhythmic pace It grounds me. It takes me out of my thinking mind and I embody the present moment and smile. 2. A sense of control I can hold my breath. I can lengthen my exhales more than my inhales. I can whistle. I can sigh. I can sing and even make myself yawn. 3. Tight and constrictive In those moments of anxiety or hurt, my breath is shallow and tight like a sharp pain in my chest. When I try to take a deep breath, I feel my chest constrict and tighten like a sob about to break free. 4. Connection All living beings on this planet breathe be it with lungs or gills. We all enter this world and take our first breath. We laugh and cry together. We can chant OM. We can sing a melodic tune. 5. Conduit to peace When I remember that I can control my breath, I create the optimal route to peace with just one breath. I could argue with my words or ruminate an imagined reply in my mind. Or I can breathe and let it be.
Let the past be the past
The past is the past thankfully and sorrowfully so. We have today's gifts and connections, conversations and hearts to grow. Let go of yesterday's hurts. They cannot touch you here. No matter their lull, their yearning, their harsh or loving memory. Let's make new ones today so that our wells may overflow with a life well-loved and well-lived. Let the past be the past. It cannot touch me here in the now. I know this, yet sometimes need a reminder While ruminating and caught in a memory. To snap back to reality. To be nostalgic is okay. Let's make today a great day.
Despite the rain, the sun still rises
Despite the rain, the sun still rises. It was my birthday 6:30 in the morning and as dark as night. The pattering of rain against my window began during my slumber. I looked up at the sky and knew that despite the rain, the sun will still rise and that warmed my heart. My special day wouldn't be ruined from the dark from the large puddles that collected in my driveway. In the quiet of morning, I saw mourning doves perched on the electric wire. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to shelter. Just one with the rain with the elements and they were all okay despite the rain. The sun still rises Even if I can't be greeted by its warm red and orange rays. As the day progressed, the dark sky did brighten to a white marble gray sky. The sun was still there If I just remembered. Despite the rain I went out to celebrate with my husband. at our favorite place for breakfast and each bite was a true delight. I marveled at where we were in this place and time. How I got here on this special day. The wisdom, the experience, the love, the awe, the pain, the lessons And I, too, was okay Despite the rain.
The thread
This one precious life. How fragile it is. Strung by a thread into the vastness of eternity. The oneness of all beings on their own threaded life. Who created the thread? Who laid out the journey before I came to be? The vastness of potential of choices made to make me Me. Who I am today Whole, full of light and feeling grateful. This thread we weave and walk upon. It has been tested with unavoidable change, growth and setbacks and lessons learned. My one precious life. I do not know what lies ahead. At times, I feel this journey is mine alone And even though with a future unknown, I can be supported and held as I travel on and begin another lap around the sun.
The Window
To the untrained eye, a window is merely an opening to the outside. To the imaginative and creative, the window can be a portal. A conduit to worlds unseen with the naked eye. The worlds of dream state of fantasy or memory. Perhaps we rehash a situation over and over. Turning the events like the waves in the ocean. Do we embody the memory? Can we change the circumstance and outcome to what we wish could’ve been instead of what was? Do we live lives not of the mundane reality we may think we find ourselves in But to be a world traveler. To explore caves, dunes, other cultures’ food and language without leaving the room we are in? The window is an invitation to look outside ourselves. A reminder that our lives are not contained in this body, in this space. But an opening to be more. Become more, see more, love more. The window provides a view into the heart, the mind, the shared world we all inhabit. Our lives are not as small as we might’ve thought. It’s just not the full story of the human experience. The window may be bright with light or dark with shadow and dim. The window can be open like our hearts Or closed when we need solitude and healing. It is okay to be open or closed. And to marvel at the beauty inside and out.
Healing Insights 