Quiet... Patient... Open...

 The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more 

deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us... 

~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~

That deep sadness is back. I feel it moving through the internal organs of my body. It doesn't actually stay in my heart; that's where I think it should be found. But no, it's in my stomach and my kidney and even moves into muscles, like my calf, or deep fascia, like my foot's plantar.

Under the sadness is something so real it is beyond expression. Maybe it is my essence. I'm not sure, but it feels unchanging and truly is always there. It brings comfort and certainty. Each moment simply unfolding...

Life feels unsteady, even rocky; and sharp edges are everywhere. I'm not sure of where I'm going or what lies ahead. But if I can remain in presence, the sense of well being restores my body, my inner strength, and  my mind's clarity. This presence reminds me life is good.

Lifelong Friends

...my first life, 

the life I admire

and want to follow

looks on and listens

with some wonder, 

and even extends 

a reassuring hand 

for the one holding back,...

David Whyte, Excerpt "My Second LIfe" 

I am sharing a weekend with lifelong friends. These women are so uniquely individual and yet similar. I witness us moving through each day, in awe of their inner strength, their joy, their struggles, and their pure being.

Many years ago I graduated from high school and chose my college for the silliest of reasons. I wanted to be as far away as possible from home. It had to be place I'd never been and yet not so isolated that I was a total stranger. I chose the University of Tulsa and enrolled sight unseen in the fall of 1965.

My best friend, Douy, was going and her parents drove us both from Springfield, Illinois. I had my father's huge trunk from his WWII military service and several suitcases. We didn't have refrigerators or computers. But we did have clock radios, over sized hairdryers, and a forbidden hotplate.

We decided to arrive before classes actually began in order to experience "rush week." For those not familiar with sororities and fraternities, this is the time you parade through various sorority houses, attend parties and teas, and if you are lucky, you are chosen to join your favorite house.

As a first-generation college student, I was excited and terrified by this totally foreign experience. I immediately liked the girls at the Kappa Alpha Theta house. Who can explain these things? It's real. It's a connection, unique and strong. As it turned out the other girls who also chose Theta would become some of my lifelong friends.

I think it is quite remarkable that you can see someone after 15, 25, or 47 years and simply pick up your friendship where it was left. We haven't miss a beat, these amazing ladies and I. Our time together is filled with laughter and tears, memories and updates, surprises and familiar connections.

Truly, the gift of this weekend is how just being together in each other's presence nurtured and supported us perfectly in a way we each needed. I am forever grateful for the love, acceptance, and encouragement I received. I can only hope I was able to provide a bit of that for them.

Cherish Ordinary Days...

It has taken a while, but I certainly do know it now- 

the most wonderful gift I had, 

the gift I've finally learned to cherish above all else, 

was the gift of all those perfectly ordinary days.           ~Katrina Kenison

Lately I've been struggling with a severe case of plantarfasciitis in 
both feet and tendinitis in my ankle. The doctor said it might take 
six months to heal. I'm faithfully engaging in various stretches 
incorporating them into my daily Yoga practice. I've curtailed my 
walking, apply ice and sometimes heat to tired, sore feet and spend 
more time with my feet up.

More than one friend has suggested the universe might be sending 
a message to slow down. I've certainly received that message before 
and it usually comes more than once (stronger each time) until I 
listen. I'm listening, I promise!

Ordinary days, everyday moments fill our lives in ways that often go
unnoticed. As a longtime meditator, I like to believe I pay attention. 
That I really notice things around me. But the reality is mindfulness 
and being present are lifetime practices. Like chopping wood and
carrying water, we put one foot in front of the other, moment 
after moment and wonder, "can we stay alert, awake, alive to 
all that is?"

It's a practice and each time I miss the mark, I feel gratitude for 
the chance to try again. Don't be discouraged if you are forgetful or 
thoughts take you away from what is here in the present moment. 
Just allow the realization of not being present to be a pointer back 
to presence. Remember even our forgetting is perfect. Let go of all
expectations and appreciate the gift of ordinary days.

JOY!

Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are. ~ Marianne Williamson

This morning is it! I'm really going to post something. I've been stuck in the invisible muck of procrastination, but my day has begun in such an amazing way, I want to write about it.

Mornings are my thing. I love the morning. I have only occasionally seen the sunrise since the time change, but it's calling to me. Soon I may be awaking before dawn again. It is my very favorite time because the world seems to be steeped in silence. Meditation just flows, and I feel such a deep sense of being.

I scheduled my annual mamogram for today and chose early morning, as I always do, to go for it. I was a little bit nervous because I'd had surgery last year and, well, if you're a woman, you know that mammogram machine can be brutal. I arrived on time, checked in and barely sat down, when a woman open the door and motioned for me to follow her.

I noticed immediately that she had a bandana tied around her neck. The paisley print coordinated nicely with her light purple scrubs. She turned toward me, placed her fingers over the scarf at her throat and said, "Take everything off from the waist up and put on the gown opened to the front."

Her speech was rough and difficult to understand, but I knew the drill. The moment I saw her hand move to her throat, I thought of the advertisement of the cancer survivor. You know, the woman getting ready for work, talking about the risks of throat cancer and urging people not to smoke. My next thought was completely judgmental. Why do people smoke when they know this could happen? What a horrible disease, etc.

I recognized in an instant, they were just thoughts. I didn't need them and detached; I wanted to be open to the moment. As she led me into the room where the machine was waiting, she again turned toward me, made eye contact and said, "I've have throat cancer and they had to remove my voice box. If you have any trouble understanding me, please let me know. Could I have your name and date of birth?"

Something touched me deeply as I responded to her request. After giving her my information, I told her I was glad the surgery went well. Her face softened and she was visibly relieved. She began to share her story. The cancer was discovered under her voice box last October. Following the surgery she took 2 1/2 months off and has been back at work for almost two months. She never smoked, but grew up around secondhand smoke. She was so matter-of-fact, not a trace of bitterness.

We talked about how lucky she was to be a survivor. She said she has been working at mammogram center for 27 years and the thought of not being able to come back to work was nearly unbearable. I told her she did a great job and to stay healthy. She gave me a bright smile, "See you next year!"

Although I have heard secondhand smoke is a cause of cancer, I'd never known anyone unlucky enough to have it. My favorite uncle died of throat cancer when I was a freshman in college. It was terribly sad, a very difficult experience and my first encounter with cancer. Since then what I notice for me is a prickliness, fear, anxiety and discomfort around "cancer."

What I felt today was the genuine warmth and authenticity of truly connecting with another human being. I may never see her again, and yet we connected. I was able to communicate with her, without negative emotions. Just two spirits being in presence. It was amazing.

I could have allowed my mind to go to an entirely different place. I could have shut her out, felt uncomfortable with her speech and her outward image of cancer. She could have spoken about all the horrors of having cancer.

What is it that allows us to recognize joy? Some days it is just there and I am so grateful.

Eternity is...

There is a misconception that Eternity

is somewhere in the future.

If you want to touch Eternity,

dive deep into the present. 

~Ivan M. Granger~

We grow up with so many fairy tales. I loved them all, especially the ones where the handsome prince or dashing knight swept away the maiden from all of her misery and lived happily ever after. I think I became so enmeshed in the storyline that I quite literally waited for my prince charming to rescue me.

For many years I measured my life by the future. Three weeks until Christmas; two months until graduation; 15 minutes until his flight arrives. I was constantly waiting for my life to be begin or be better or different. If I wasn't wishfully projecting into the future, I was brooding or reminiscing about the past. I wish it were still summer. Why did I say that? What I would give to be back in that place or with those people.

I'm not sure when the change occurred, but it was certainly gradual. First a fleeting thought, perhaps something as simple as "just enjoy this moment" would appear. More and more often these thoughts would arise and along the way, a Yoga teacher or two would remind me "to stay with the breath."

It's a practice, they would say. I went through periods of trying, putting a lot of disciple and effort into the idea of "being present." It seemed an impossible task. But one day, quite unexpectedly, Presence found its way into my heart and has remained to this day.

That is not to say, I don't ever anticipate some future event or remember something from the past. But it's different; somehow, I feel free to just be in each moment and let this miracle of life unfold.

Remembering

Three years ago today, my mother passed away quietly after her breakfast at the skilled nursing facility. She had only been there a week and was recovering from what we suspected was a small stroke.

When someone as close as a mother dies, the experience is so alive with sensations and emotions and babbling in your mind. Everything is somehow larger than life. Charged with such intense emotion, details of the moment are vivid and crystal clear. As time passes, the intensity softens a bit, but always when the memory arises, that clarity and pure awareness remains.

The photo is of a Rose-of-Sharon given to me by several friends at the time of mom's death. They told me it was chosen because it blooms in mid-July and they wanted something that would remind me of her each year at this time. It is a fitting tribute to her. It started as a small bush and struggled to survive for two years. The landscape designers wanted to replace it, but I said "No."

This year it is in full bloom, even with the hot, dry summer we are having!. As I tend the garden throughout the year, I am reminded of her. It sways in the winds and endures the rain, cold and snow. Yet it continues to grow and blossom and become rooted in the Illinois soil.

There is a poem from John O'Donohue that speaks to what I feel this morning. Here is just a portion of it...


On the Death of the Beloved

Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.

Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones...

Roots

What is the root of pain? Ignorance of yourself. 
What is the root of desire? The urge to find yourself. 
All creation toils for its self and will not rest until it returns to it. 

Nisargadatta Maharaj


The Banyan trees in Florida are amazing examples of roots expanding and seeking to take hold in the space all around. As if the desire to find itself is all consuming. For most of my life, there has been a similar urge to understand why I am here, who I am, and all of that. It has taken me to many dark places as I root into the unconcscious in an attempt to bring light to my endless desire to know.


Lately, what comes is a feeling that knowing is always right here and the toil isn't necessary. The flow of life moves us along like a river. Sometimes it fast, exciting and perhaps a bit overwhelming; other times is meanders along or crawls at a snails pace. I've found it is in the letting go that all these opposites dissolve into the Presence that is each moment unfolding fresh and new.  

"Such Singing in the Wild Branches"

It was spring

and finally I heard him

among the first leaves -

then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade

with his red-brown feathers

all trim and neat for the new year.

First, I stood still

and thought of nothing.

Then I began to listen.

Then I was filled with gladness -

and that's when it happened,

when I seemed to float,

to be, myself, a wing or a tree -

and I began to understand

what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass

stopped

for a pure white moment

while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,

and in fact

it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing -

it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,

and also the trees around them,

as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds

in the perfectly blue sky - all, all of them

were singing.

And, of course, yes, so it seemed,

so was I.

Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn't last

for more than a few moments.

It's one of those magical places wise people

like to talk about.

One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you've been there,

you're there forever.

Listen, everyone has a chance.

Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,

and does your own soul need comforting?

Quick, then - open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song

may already be drifting away.

~ Mary Oliver ~

I vaguely recall writing about this poem on an earlier occasion, but Mary Oliver has a way of opening the heart in a thousands different ways. It is well-worth repeating.

When I visited the Ringling Museum I was fascinated with the banyans trees. There was a grove of them, most of them over 100 years of age. Towering above us, I found myself twirling around as I looked up at the sun shining through their intertwining branches. Like a child I was astonished by the mere presence of these lovely beings.

In some way, they seemed to communicate just as Mary Oliver so beautifully expresses in this poem. For more than a moment I seemed to float in one of those magical places! It's true, once you've been there, you're there forever. I recommend that you fly on your heavy feet and find an enchanting tree ~ there's nothing quite like it for comforting the soul.

Be Ready

You Reading This, Be Ready

Starting here, what do you want to remember?

How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?

What scent of old wood hovers, what softened

sound from outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world

than the breathing respect that you carry

wherever you go right now? Are you waiting

for time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around, starting here, lift this

new glimpse that you found; carry into evening

all that you want from this day. This interval you spent

reading or hearing this, keep it for life -

What can anyone give you greater than now,

starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

~ William Stafford ~

 
I love the way Stafford takes ordinary everyday things and makes them extraordinary. When you find yourself fully present, there is an almost magical feeling that there is nothing greater than NOW. He reminds us to keep it for life and know there is nothing anyone can give you that it greater than the gift of being present.

Your True Nature ~ Infinite Spirit

We try to grasp something strange and mysterious because we believe happiness lies elsewhere. This is the mistake. The Self is all-pervading. Our real nature is liberation, but we imagine that we are bound, we make strenuous efforts to become free, although all the while we are free.


Birth and death pertain only to the body, they are superimposed upon the Self, giving rise to the delusion that birth and death relate to the Self. The universe exists within the Self. Discover the undying Self and be immortal and happy. Be yourself and nothing more. Thoughts change but not you. 


There is neither past nor future; there is only the present. Yesterday was the present when you experienced it; tomorrow will also be the present when you experience it, therefore, experience takes place only in the present, and even the present is mere imagination, for the sense of time is purely mental.

All that is required to realize the Self is to be still. What can be easier than that? Your true nature is that of infinite spirit.                 ~ Ramana Maharshi

Breathe before it's gone...

The morning wind spreads its fresh smell.

We must get up and take that in,

that wind that lets us live.

Breathe before it's gone.

                                            ~ Rumi

Rumi reminds us to experience each moment of life without trying to hold on. Life moves quickly with no promises of the next moment. Everything happens in the "Now." When we remain present, in the now, we are truly alive.


This morning I'm going to the beach for Yoga. There the sun will gently kiss my cheek and the wind will awaken every fiber of my being. Gratitude, such gratitude, my heart smiles and softly sighs.

When you have traveled too fast

You have traveled too fast over false ground;

Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up

To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain

When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,

Taking time to open the well of color

That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone

Until its calmness can claim you.

Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.

Learn to linger around someone of ease

Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,

Having learned a new respect for your heart

And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

John O’Donohue

This is just a portion of a poem entitled "For One Who Is Exhausted."  I find refuge in the image of my soul coming to take me back. There are times when we all move too fast and miss the small miracles that are always nearby.  Why not come into the present moment and the "joy that dwells far within slow time?"

Rivers of Light

I hear bells ringing that no one has shaken,
inside "love" there is more joy than we know of,
rain pours down,
although the sky is clear of clouds,
there are whole rivers of light...
                                                       - Kabir

Why is it in winter, light is so much in my mind's eye. The mystics equate love and light and why not. This image of Kabir's "rivers of light" pouring through the sky to earth is majestic. It's so comforting to rest in this place of "bells ringing that on one has shaken."

The morning silence brings a deep sense of Presence and I let go of all the ways my mind keeps me small. I move inside love to find that joy ~ timeless, ageless, just being...

A lifetime isn't long enough...

Life can be hard and soft at the same time. It feels that way today. Storms are roaring through the Midwest leaving so much destruction in their paths. Then the sun comes out and all is bright and beautiful. Except, of course, the stark reality of loss. Being human seems to be such a gift as well as a struggle. And it brings the ego to its knees ~ there are no tidy little answers. No way to make everything ok. At some point we have stand and say, "I surrender to whatever this is that I am a part of."

My heart is heavy from holding the sorrow, mine and all who knew and loved my husband's dear friend. He passed away on Monday doing what he loved, playing golf. Now we walk through all of steps that follow. We try to console each other. We remember the shared experiences that nurtured our friendships. We grieve and we know how very much this wonderful man will be missed.

As Mary Oliver says, " A lifetime isn't long enough for the beauty of this world and the responsibilities of you life." I believe those responsibilities include allowing all of our feelings to be expressed, the hard and the soft. We are all so deeply intertwined and the wisdom that we are one sustains me in ways I never imagined. 

"Let grief be your sister, she will whether or no..."

---

    

The poem is not the world.
It isn't even the first page of the world.  

But the poem wants to flower, like a flower.
It knows that much.  

It wants to open itself,
like the door of a little temple,
so that you might step inside and be cooled and refreshed,
and less yourself than part of everything.  

***  

When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider
the orderliness of the world. Notice
something you have never noticed before,

like the tambourine sound of the snow-cricket
whose pale green body is no longer than your thumb.

Stare hard at the hummingbird, in the summer rain,
shaking the water-sparks from its wings.

Let grief be your sister, she will whether or no.
Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also,
    like the diligent leaves.

A lifetime isn't long enough for the beauty of this world
and the responsibilities of your life.

Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away.
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.

In the glare of your mind, be modest.
And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling.

Live with the beetle, and the wind.
This is the dark bread of the poem.
This is the dark and nourishing bread of the poem.

  ~ Mary Oliver ~

A Leaf and a Cloud