HOW TO SAY "Yes!" TO LIFE

Pay attention. Watch for bluebirds                                         

and trains. Distant train whistles are soulful

echoes; speeding cars delight little

boys. Blue wings beat out the rhythm and

colors of hope. Notice the plump song

sparrow - a little body pumping out

music. Trains and birds are accordions, holding

our collective breaths before transforming

us into dance tunes.    

 

Show up. Count the eyelashes on a

sleeping child. Catch the smile of your

suckling babe, when the tiny mouth

opens wide, spilling milk from cherub

lips that dribble down your breast all

sticky, gross and indescribably

precious. Be pen and paper for the

last requests of one you love.

Smooth your hands over your body.

photo by Stephanie Landis

Let hands say with fondness  -my body has

many parts. Marvel over the lines and detail,

having a toddler's no shame. Then, being

gassy is only "peeping."  And, maybe even

marvelous like horses exploding 

into a gallop.

                                                                   

Play with your shadows. Invite your inner 

multitudes to dinner. Notice how love, 

ymiu.com clip art

like sunlight and your own position, 

lengthens or shortens your characters.

Use your best china on colorful linen

cloth. Introduce yourself to yourself; get

to know humanity this way, through honesty,

acceptance, compassion.  

 

Be gentle. Always and above all, be
tender, easy, forgiving your processes, your
angst, your temper, your struggle to love. As you 
do with you, so shall you offer to others. Throw 
away your measuring stick; fling your soul wide 
awake. Embrace what is, stomp and kick your way 
to acceptance. Or sigh.

When stuck in the mud trumpet loudly.

Ask for help from the herd. Do your 

hard inner work. And then watch Tim

Conway's Elephant Story outtakes. Laugh,

cry. Wear your heart on your sleeve right

beside the washable dragon tattoo. Set your

Facebook account to pirate lingo.

Listen with your heart to the song of the

moon. It will drop your jaw, like Richard 

Strauss music.  So will the gak gak! of a 

crow harassing an eagle in mid-flight. Lie

on the beach under the splash of milky way,

listening to the night sky. Hear the sound

a soul makes when awed.

Stay with what's uncomfortable. Put 
up a bluebird feeder and nest box for
your dying wife, knowing every time a
bluebird feeds, builds, your heart will rip
apart with loss and love. Allow your farm 
dogs to hunt groundhogs. Gentle souls 
can know reality; predators can lay across 
your lap, cozy. If you turn away, hurl up 
your pancakes after the first kill, embrace the paradox. Somehow, it all belongs.   

Say goodbye. No matter how hard or 
full of weeps. Build monuments, cairns of
stone or shell. Gather wood. Stand around
the funeral pyre, the birthing table too, and give honor, thanks, dignity. Record your steps. Plant trees, light the fire, look deeply into eyes of loss and place, of memories, of hellos and dreams. Then, when it's time to move on, say goodbye firmly.  

Open your heart.  Let that movie in, fully. Lay 
down your armor; bring tissues, let stories stir 
you to action or sleeplessness. Especially, when 
the little one trips into your room rem-stage 
sleep, and throws up undigested pieces of the day 
on your good quilt.  Hold the sobbing girl, depressed, 
anxious, let her heart open yours. Lie on the 
green grass and stare at the sky, until your heart is wide and expansive. 

Cultivate wisdom. Roll over and play dead

when needed. Say no frequently, so your 

yes can be wholehearted; aren’t those fully alive

attractive? And, every time you take off your

shoes, or fall asleep, or sigh into a yoga pose,

practice dying. Slip off whatever is too tight,

and breathe, knowing in your soul – 

after the pinch - freedom!

Honoring the life of the newest angel in our family- Elaine, much loved and newly released from this earth.