Solidarity

        Solidarity

 

My head is stuffed with metal and

fuzz and gnarls of curled edges,

like the steel wool I stuff in mouse holes,

trying to prevent entry into my dwelling places.

My heart is a cage with the door open, the bird

singing songs of freedom.  The bird sings in

solidarity

with suffering, the struggle, the oppressive crud

of life.  Everyone hears and knows the song.

 The songs are beauty. The songs open doors.

The song pumps up throat and chest, as melodies

rise and roll, harmonizing with color,

and wind, and all the mice sniffing

 cheese on both sides of metal.  With folks

 gathered round tables, feasting, with

 children flying kites or picking through dumps,

eating with chopsticks, and starving.

The songs are truth, and goodness.  The bird sings

 until feathers and throat and metal blend

with waving rye grasses in fields, cumulus piles

of sky, hot, molten rock, knees scraping-

praying, scrubbing, kissing earth. Bird and

 cage disappear, and the Song sings on.    

No Hornets Please

                  

 
While hiking in the woods ....

 

  

            I see two perfect mounds of moss. 

                                    Perfectly, gloriously

                                             round and green

                                                         amid lots of brown.

 

Such beauty catches my attention. I pause and express delight to my hiking companions.    

 

I also marvel over Marianne Williamson's Facebook status of today.  So much so, that I want to share her beautiful wisdom:   "Many years ago someone said to me, 'Marianne, you're so hard on yourself. And the reason you're so hard on yourself is because you're so easy on yourself.'  It was one of the wisest things anyone has ever told me, and it has guided me every since.  Sometimes we're too easy on ourselves, lacking self-discipline and giving ourselves slack and in places where we simply shouldn't. Then we're loaded with guilt and suffering! The only way to end the torture of self-condemnation is to try to live a life that earns your self-respect.

It's a challenge to quiet the perfectionist in me, and motivate the slacker.  

 

I'm inspired by Marianne's simple instruction:  "try to live a life that earns your self-respect." This task is so simple and hopeful. Her words remind me of my own writing for a chapter in the Mellowness of Heart book I'm co-authoring with my brother, Don - about legalism and mellowness of heart: 

 

As a child, I listened to a phrase of The Hornet Song with fear and fascination- God does not compel us to go ‘gainst our will, but He just makes us willing to go.   In my childish misconceptions, God was an authoritarian trickster.  Sooner or later God would force me with the likes of hornets and earthquakes to do what God wanted; my desires were inconsequential.    What a blessing to be invited to know a God who truly wants me to be and do what God put in me at birth to be and do!  God is my partner; we work together in uncovering what is in my heart and what is my purpose. The stick that drives me is often some type of cultural conditioning, previous misconception, or a ghost from authoritarian, black and white religious teachings of my childhood. 

 

I'm a messy perfectionist.  I love to make messes but sometimes run out of energy for clean up. Loved teaching my kids to cook or raise goats and didn't mind a messy kitchen or barn. But when organizing a notebook, or developing a project or performing for others I agonize over every detail often driving myself to perfection.  I can't tolerate inner chaos but am often oblivious to clutter.  Marianne's words comfort me. I don't have to try so hard or compare myself to others.  I can learn when to push and when to ease up. I can reach for living a life that earns my self respect.  Mine. Not yours or theirs or some misconception of God.

 

 

 

there are no hornets in this photo

 
 
I practice this every time I illustrate this blog with my amateur photography.  I dislike learning camera details, yet I love sharing my loves and wonders with others. I find balance by making myself learn more about my camera here and there, while respecting myself enough to only post the best of my ordinary photos. 

Speaking of wonders.....  I am thrilled by this little bird on a nest.  I wonder what kind of bird it is. I snapped this photo (my best one :) from the cabin deck before going on that moss-finding hike.  If you know what kind of bird this is, please let me know!

 

 

More than anything, I want to just enjoy life.  I am grateful to the Creative Force that began it all. The process of life is ingenious, so perfectly messy!  And I do love hearing God laugh when I  pray 'no hornets please'....



son and 3yr old grand daughter - Lititz Springs Park

Joyfully,
Sharon

Thanks. Yes.

 Massey, our Jack Russell Terrier, is bored. After repeated attempts to get me to play with him, he gives up and settles himself by finding Burren and going in for a snuggle.  This reminds me of a cute phrase my 3yr old grand daughter says when tired or needing comfort- "SnuggaMe." 

Translation: Please come snuggle with me. 

Some days are like that...a snuggle makes life bearable. Kindness is the oil that lubricates the joints of all experiences.  Some days the hardest kindness to give is to yourself.  Last week, I found an intriguing mantra version of a welcoming prayer I've been practicing for some time now.  There are different versions of the welcoming prayer, with different nuances. Some versions teach welcoming the good and the unpleasant in life by letting go of our programs for happiness: control, security, affection, and so on.  I like the psychology and theology involved. 

But, this one is simple. The simplicity draws me as does the self-awareness and self-kindness that is embedded.  This mantra contains four phrases we've all heard.  Every child is taught to express these phrases outwardly, for the benefit of others, but seldom inwardly, toward themselves.  I love the fun in knowing I can say all four phrases as a mantra  and direct them inwardly or outwardly, even pray them both ways at the same time! When you need to give yourself a snuggle, try repeating this healing mantra:

I love you
I’m sorry
Please forgive me
Thank you

I love you.  Imagine saying this, especially, when you are frustrated with yourself or what is presenting in the moment.  I'm sorry.  Imagine treating yourself with real compassion. Perhaps you've created some disharmony, or perhaps life is unbalanced or painful.  You can be sorry for what you knowingly or unknowingly created and you can state your sorrow that you are having to go through this sadness, anger or hurt.   Please forgive me.   You mentally forgive yourself for any digression.  Forgive yourself for any unknowing.  Forgive yourself for not being perfect or understanding perfectly.   Thank you.  Express gratitude.  All things, events, and emotions can teach you.  Sometimes you know what the lesson is, sometimes you won't ever. Either way, give thanks.

 

I love how simple this is!  I used it recently, repeating these four phrases after dog trick class when I felt stupid.  Burren, the border collie mix, was supposed to go 'around' the stool as I shaped this circling behavior with my perfect timing of a 'click' from a training clicker and a treat. Instead, I got confused, my timing was off.  In confusion, she pawed the stool, knocked it over, and bit it.  The more I sent her vibes of  'behave and make us look good' the more she sent  'bite me' vibes back.  I got tense; she mirrored back my tension. 

 

Having a shaming experience is lousy the first time. Reliving it over and over is shame cubed! I knew the trick episode was not a big deal, yet, I stewed on what I did wrong for hours after class, and repeatedly chewed myself out.  I wanted to laugh it off but couldn't. So I just said the mantra.  I love you. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.

 

 Repeating the mantra helped my mind focus on something other than my embarrassed frustration.  I directed the phrases to and for myself, to and for Burren.  I repeated and breathed.  I repeated until I felt gentled. As the phrases sank in, I realized I was experiencing anxiety about another performance that meant a great deal to me. Only I wasn't present to that anxiety yet. Saying the mantra helped me take full responsibility for myself, while loving myself.   I began softening into gratefulness for what I learned, would continue to learn.  Then with humor and grace, I could just let it go. 

 

Thanks!  Yes.  I'll take more of life, please.  The silly, the serious, the shameful and the fun; somehow it all belongs.

 

Burren and I are happily working again.  And, she can easily go around a stool, a chair, even my grandson's huge blue elephant.  She probably laughs as she circles.

Joyfully!
Sharon

 
"To all that has been, Thanks. To all that shall be, Yes. "   Dag Hammarskjold

Just Be Where Your Body Is

I psyched myself to go on this errand.  I usually dislike errands; sometimes I put off grocery shopping until there is nothing in the house to eat except a fridge full of garden greenery.

I don’t want to be in this car running an errand. I want to be writing.  I'm probably not where my body is.  My mind is back at my desk.  This morning I put in my 2 hours of writing and got nothing but drivel.  So the need of groceries couldn’t be ignored any longer.



While driving, I count the gems I’ve gathered today: 

 

1. My Christmas poinsettias still blooming in May, planted in my garden next to  Soapwort and Primroses.  

 

2. Anne Lamott’s Facebook post advising her students on how to write: “you decide to. Then you push back your sleeves and start writing--I.e., scribbling words down on paper, or typing at a computer. And it will be completely awful. It will be unreadable shit!”  Anne always makes me laugh. 

3. The caring of a cyber-sister who encouraged another in our group by sending Pink’s song lyrics: “You're so mean, when you talk about yourself, you are wrong. Change the voices in your head. Make them like you instead.” 

4. Another post from The Contemplative Society: “Every moment of conscious presence takes place in eternity. ~ Cynthia Bourgeault”   Someone commented: “And so I'm struggling to know what that means for me on the ground in ordinary time.”  Somehow that makes me laugh too, in solidarity with all the times I don’t get it either.

I love such honesty; let’s call that spade a spade!  I’m equally aware of my conflicting compulsion to pretty that old spade up.  Stick it in the garden and plant a gorgeous flower in front. Or paint it!  Isn’t anything mixed up, confused, ugly or icky more palatable with a colorful layer of spicy paint? 

I ponder the audio book I listening to- The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green, about a teenager with cancer.  I had cancer so I get most of the character’s musings. The poignancy of the story is laced with wonderful humor. Laughter lessens the shock of teenagers dealing with death and suffering, like a coat of paint on the aforementioned spade, transparent paint, leaving the worn out metal shimmering with vitality.

My next thought starts out discontented…a sigh about wishing I could write like John Green…but amazingly I’m interrupted by complete and sudden stillness.  In that instant I’m fully present to the moment.  Everything inside and outside is whole. Perfect. Complete. One stunning moment, thirty seconds long, a blink of pure awareness.

What a gift!  I did absolutely nothing to make that moment happen. “Every moment of conscious presence takes place in eternity.” Cynthia Bourgeault’s statement makes perfect sense!  And it’s utterly confusing. 

Life, meaning, confusion, growth are all such a mishmash. Makes me giddy that perhaps showing up for life, however it happens to be, is enough.

Reminds me of what Martin Laird said in a retreat I attended, “Just be where your body is.”   This continues to be an invitation to me, be at home in my body.  Imagine if everyone would just BE where our bodies are, rather than off to the future or back in the past.  Or wishing we’d be this body or that body.  Laird continued with his gentle advice, “Be where your body is, even if it’s old and creaky or young and creaky.”  It takes courage to be there, emotionally, physically and spiritually, doesn’t it? 

 

 

Sometimes being there means bursting with possibilities, or blooming out of season, or not blooming at all. 

   Make it enough,

        the showing up, 

              doing your beautiful and shitty work, 

                     changing the voices in your head,

                                    being open to Presence…

                    

……….and being where your body is! 

Joyfully,

Sharon

Let Beauty Now Be What We Do

Here is a soulful song that also goes perfectly with my blog yesterday: 

Let Beauty Now Be






This song, by the Illumination Band, has deeply companioned me this month.  The sound is blues-y, folkish, bluegrass-y music that uses Rumi poetry in the lyrics.  What an awesome blend of heart, wisdom, poetry, and sound!













Let Beauty Now Be

Some mornings we wake up on empty,
to a day that's got nothing but need.
So we reach for a strong cup of coffee,
or maybe a good book to read.

The words of the gospels upholdin
but they come from so high and so far.
But, sometimes in trouble the best thing to do
is pick up the good old guitar.

Let the beauty we love come and fill us.
Let the beauty around get us through.
Let the beauty inside be our compass
Let beauty now be what we do.
                               
Cause all hearts still long for the beauty.
It's a secret that's here every where.
And the soft, sweet old tune
can remind us it shines
In the midst of the deepest despair.

There are hundreds of ways joy can find us.
Like the hundreds of ways children play.
And there's hundreds of ways
to kneel down on the ground,
hundreds of ways we can pray.

Let the beauty we love come and fill us.
Let the beauty around get us through.
Let the beauty inside be our compass
Let beauty now be what we do.



Find the song on mp3 downloads on Amazon and CD Baby.   ENJOY!!!  

Love the description CD Baby says this about the band:The Illumination Band creates a unique musical experience by drawing on the words of the great13th c. Sufi poet Rumi. With soaring vocal harmonies, lilting old-time melodies and hard-driving blues giving way to moments of mystical longing, the Illumination Band blurs the lines between musical genres as seamlessly as it crosses cultural boundaries. Grounded in American bluegrass, gospel and country, an Illumination Band concert covers a lot of emotional territory but always returns to the heart’s yearning for transcendence.

Illumination Band is now on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Illumination-Band/190803891021832

Joyfully,
Sharon

Look for Beauty

 

 

Beauty shows up in odd places.  

Like splashes of color on gray pavement, a stunning smile coaxed from the shy heart.  Beauty, though exploited by advertisers, is often found fresh and free - crescent moons etched on glass, musical laughter, photos of mountain and sunset on bookmarks, loving emails tucked in folds of computers, paint stroked on canvas, seeds showered on the ground.

 

When sorrow overwhelms, I look for beauty. 

 

With all that is broken in this world, with all the violence that is real and then sensationalized, pain is easy to find. Sorrow and violence fills the screens of our eyes and ears, even resides in the shadows
of our unconscious. 

Compassion and goodness exist there too. Beauty can be found within and without; what fills us depends on what we look for, what qualities grow in us depend on that which we seek, 
tend
             and feed.
   

Last weekend, as the nation mourned lives lost in Boston, I wandered down a tree-lined lane, looking for beauty, needing beauty.  My eyes were drawn to hundreds of tiny lacy bouquets of lime and yellow on the path ahead.  Casually scattered, gathered with a dot of red, vivid bundles of seed and flower lay in sharp contrast to their bleak backdrop of macadam. How simple; how exquisite!

 

 

 

               As I continued walking, I came upon a statue. One arm severed, bleeding. The other reaching out to comfort a child.  

                                          

People break and bleed. The earth breaks and bleeds.  Even most religions speak of a God who breaks and bleeds. When anguished, I find hope and courage knowing violence is not the end of the story. God reminds me visually: joy and beauty are present even in the midst of suffering.  Perhaps my meloncholy eyes are first caught by the bleeding, but the image that endures is the tender hand caressing the child. Wether you are one who looks at tragedy or one who must look away, in the end
it is love that unites us. 
Might does little, but Love heals and strengthens.   

 

 

 

 

The earth sings with beauty.....

 

                                                 always!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even as she bleeds, weeps.

 

 

 

If you and I cultivate the ability to see with the eyes of our souls, then we will become exactly what we want to the world to be.  We will be

                             the artist,

                                    the lover,

                                           the see-er,

                                                 the gentling,

                                this broken world craves. 

 

 

 

Seek truth and goodness. And when you find beauty on this 

                sweet earth ......                   

 

...share it, and add more!
 

 

 

Joyfully,

Sharon

restore

                                    

        ~  R    E    S   T    O    R    E  ~

                          
              
                              In January, I chose this word for 2013.

                                      
                                          I chose it for myself. 
                                   I hold it for others.
                                           I pray it for the world.



     I planned to write a blog post about remembering my promise to foster two more dogs in honor of the slain Newtown teacher and child who loved dogs: Rachel Davino and Catherine Hubbbard.  Hemi and Hoss are in their new homes; they were raised with love and sent forward with love, thus fullfilling my promise. I planned a happy post..... 

And then Boston exploded. I find myself at a loss for words.  

                               So, I simply offer my one word:   RESTORE  


Spirit of God, of all that is Love,
Restore us....

Sharon