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Tuesday, December 4, 2012 at 11:42 AM What is the Art of Pondering? This process of turning things over in our minds and hearts. Entering the world and releasing it back out. Stepping in and letting go. Recently, I had the privilege of sharing my thoughts on the topic. This post is a brief synopsis of that talk.
Children, Meditation, Pondering, aslan Thursday, February 16, 2012 at 9:59 AM “That nothing is static or fixed, that all is fleeting and changing, is the first mark of existence.” Pema Chodron
Impermanence. My spirits rose higher than a soaring kite and now have calmed to the rhythm of a gently lapping wave. A friend who used to greet me brightly has faded from my life like vapor in a foggy night. A woman waits at a hospital, checking the status box “married.” Two days later she leaves alone with “widow” stamped on her form. My cat, Aslan, was here purring on my chest and now he’s not. Impermanence. How do we acknowledge that all is fleeting and changing? Do we rage against it and demand it isn’t so? Or embrace it with understanding and awareness? Perhaps we simply hope it will drift away like the cat, quietly seeking another place to rest.
Imagine practicing impermanence. Witnessing life in fleeting moments. Loving what is now. Wanting what we get. All these choices build our character and establish the timbre of our lives. Nature teaches us that we cannot catch the wind or hold a ray of sunshine in our hand. One minute the sky is clear and the next clouds have rolled in. Hollywood reminds us, too. Demi Moore reigned on the screen with her beauty and strength. Now she resides in rehab filled with fear and self-doubt. Whitney Houston, the former queen of pop, died in a hotel room the night before the Grammy awards. Life flourishes and then it doesn’t. Reminders all.
My pen will eventually run out of ink. My own lungs will ultimately cease to draw air. What does all this mean today? With what am I left? Now. Only now. In this moment I can feel the air cycling through my body. I hear the scratch of the pen across this page. The light fixture next to me buzzes. Outside a child chatters with her father and waits for the bus. The bus arrives and they all depart. A new sound hastens to fill the space. My lungs draw another breath. My hand scratches out a few more words. A truck’s roar enters the near silence... and fades away.
Impermanence. Perhaps it is the only permanent thing in life.
I’ll be pondering this today. Care to join me?
Mindfulness, Pondering, Practice, Presence, aslan Tuesday, February 7, 2012 at 9:31 AM “We spend all our energy and waste our lives trying to re-create zones of safety which are always falling apart.” Pema Chodron
Scrambling for the safety zone. Is that what my mind is doing these days? Scrambling. Scrambled. I scramble. The challenge to quiet my spinning thoughts rises. So I pick up pen and notepad while Aslan, my ever-present muse, scrambles and scurries—actually he saunters—to take his place between my chest and journal. His nose tucks beneath my left arm as he snuggles into position. Is this his meditation time or mine? Who is teaching who?How will I share my passion with the world? The morning’s question sends me scrambling for the safety zone of assurance. What’s next? How many sales? (Let that go.) Will people like it – receive it – buy it? (It doesn’t matter.) Will they relate – be moved – touched? (Maybe. Maybe not.) I’ve put it out there. Now what? My mind scrambles to fill the space. Write here. Schedule there. Do this. Don’t do that. Just BE... comes the overarching message. Stop scrambling! Breathe. Release. BE.
Where do you find yourself scrambling for a safety zone today? Is it working or would it feel better to breathe, release and simply Be?
Being, Mindfulness, Practice, aslan Friday, February 3, 2012 at 5:17 PM 
I wrote a book. Those words are enough to make me pause like a deer trapped in the headlights. My pulse starts to accelerate and I wonder if I should flee or allow myself to dance in the high beam... or maybe it's "on" the high beam, because it definitely feels precarious where I reside these days. I wrote a book... actually, I carved open a 500-page space in the center of my chest and invited the world to peek in. Here's my heart, everyone. Please be kind.I've spent the last 3 days packing, blessing, and shipping packages of signed books to over a dozen states within the U.S. and several countries around the world. Early readers have begun sharing their moments of connection and serendipity with me. This morning a friend elaborated on how her young daughter has been using my poem, Aslan's Gift, to help her release anxiety before she falls asleep each evening. My friend had tears in her eyes as she thanked me for pushing through to publish the book, so her daughter could find this comfort. Others have written how they love "having coffee" with me in the morning (even though we're miles apart). My heart sings as I hear these stories. It makes it worth opening up the tender place in the center of my chest.
As I Lay Pondering started writing itself before I knew what form it would take. My hunch is it will continue to take on its own life as it wings its way around the world. The big question I hear most often is What now? Who knows? All I can say for sure in this moment is I wrote a book. It's up to the Universe—God, Spirit, the Unknown—to say what's next!
My hope is that everyone who will benefit or be touched by my prose will have an opportunity to do so. Perhaps it will only be my coffee buddies, Aslan's snuggle bunny, and me... perhaps you or someone you love. Who knows?
What is the act that makes you pause in the headlights while simultaneously causing your heart to sing? Find it. Do it. The Universe will applaud. I promise.
Aslan © KSH
Friday, August 19, 2011 at 3:00 AM Traveling Muse
Often when I am at home, my golden fluffy cat serves as my creative muse. With luscious silken fur and confident humming purr, he offers me serenity and calm. When I leave my home for days at a time, I imagine tucking him in my carry-on bag and inviting his grounding presence to journey with me. 
While visiting Taos one year on retreat, I was stunned as I walked down a gravel road one evening and Aslan met me on the lane. While the land in this environ is famous for it's magical qualities, I was nonetheless taken aback to see my little king strolling in the twilight. How in the world had my golden muse come to be here? The similarity was uncanny although the sparkle in this kitty's eye could not match my golden boy's brilliance. Stopping in my tracks, I took a deep breath and shook my head clear as I realized it was merely a feline twin... Or was it? Perhaps we need only invite our muses to come along wherever we go.
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Pondering, Sabbath, aslan, synchronicity