Home

Oh it is hard to re-enter the "real" world. Why do we have to? Can I not just stay in that moment-to-moment glorious, watch the sea waves, feel the sunshine, sit with friends glory?

It is gray and cold here. Volumes of e-mails await me along with a huge project for work. My kids demand attention in a detached sort of way. There is dog fur everywhere and the house needs a good cleaning. All I want to do is sit on a boat and listen to the waves lap against the side.

I have tried for two days now to catch up on e-mail and look at what has been happening in the blog world, but it has been to no avail. I have decided to say “hello” for now. I am back and I am not. Returning to Seattle feels more like a foreign country today than either Mexico or France. Am I a stranger in my own home? Where is home? Home is where the heart is. Hmmmm...I think I will sit with that for a while today.

Blue Dancers

Life comes rushing in so fast. I wake up dreaming of the Musee d’Orsay, Tess, the grandmother & her boys (who I have not had a chance to write about), Blue Dancers. I want to return to Paris. There is so much left undone. No regrets except maybe that I did not ride the carrousel ☺. Still, I know I will return.

I have been dreaming in French. Soon the trip will start to fade. Not so quickly for me, but it will certainly fade for others. Their lives are not changed by me. I think of Ally and the lives she touched. The life she lived. Yesterday was a day filled with memories of her just as today will be and probably—hopefully—tomorrow.

I miss Paris. I did not have to worry about so much there. I could wake up and let the wind blow me where it would. Now I am here. My dear husband sleeps next to me. The dog wants attention. My daughter is being a little snarly. (Is something wrong or is it just “normal” teenage angst?) My son is in treatment again. Lord, please help him. Help all of us.

I don’t want my journal to move away from Paris. I don’t want to leave there. I don’t want to jump into the seemingly million obligations that await me here. I just want to write about the Musee d’Orsay and Blue Dancers.

Alas, life slips in. How can I live today as though on the wings of Paris? How will I choose to live these moments fully? How will you?

Image Edgar Degas', "Blue Dancers"

stop. breathe. listen.

what has happened?
where did my spaciousness go?
waxing. waning.
full moon gone behind a cloud of busyness.
stop, my child. breathe.*

Early last week felt so spacious, so inviting, so wonderful. I was moving my body and feeling whole and inspired. This week I feel rushed and crushed. It is eight days until Paris and it feels like it is coming too fast. I will have only eight days there. I want these days to slow down. I want to linger here as I desire to do there.

I spent the past weekend (Friday through Sunday) collaboratively creating a couples workshop for Soltura called “The Paradoxical Dance.” The project is energizing and exhausting all at the same time. We will join together again this weekend to fine tune what we have created so far. Thursday I have collage class and then I will ride the ferry across the Sound to visit friends. I will see students on Monday and Tuesday of next week and then very early Friday morning I will leave for Paris.

It feels too fast. I need to catch my breath. I wanted to go to yoga this morning, but sleep seemed more important. I have a to do list a mile long, but writing and processing a bit feels more essential. My visual journal is calling me as well as magazine clippings that say “create me into something.”

Create me into something. Is that my prayer today? I do not want these days to pass so quickly--only filled with busyness. My longing is to be intentional. To stop and listen to God. To see where my path is leading. To follow the rhythms of my soul. It is my own paradox. When I take time for myself, I seem to have abundant time in other places. When I give to others, I receive blessings in return that I cannot count.

Ahh...I cannot put words to it just yet, but it is my Lenten practice. The spaciousness is returning as I slow down, breathe and listen. Amen.

Where do you need to slow down? Breathe? Listen? What are the paradoxes in your life?

* see posts here and here. they helped me start to put into words how i was feeling this morning.

Lucy's Fave 7 for '07

Magpie Girl, a sponsor of Small is Beautiful, has asked for a lineup of my favorite seven posts for the past year. So, here it is...somewhat random...kind of like me ☺!

The Man on the Bus
The Words will not Come
Moments
Young at Heart
A is for Anniversary
The Tale of Lucy
Beauty in the (not so) Small Things

(Dear Readers, if you have a favorite post or topic, I'd love to hear what you have to say!!!)

photo © h3images.com. Check out this new photo website. It's marvelous!!!

Vessels...

...a continued reflection

Our heart is an amazing vessel that often lives in its shadow side. (Think “Tinman” in the Wizard of Oz…"If I only had a heart.” The heart is filled with blood vessels. Yes, vessels…carrying the lifeblood that runs through our veins. The blood that comes from our ancestors. My mother. My grandmothers. The “greats” I never knew.

Vessels of life. Petals of red. Red roses. Red poppies. Red wine. Blood. Sacrificial blood. Dying so that we might live. Opening up space. A field of flowers. Open and wild. Making room for forgiveness. Making room for me. For only when I love myself deeply can I do the same for others. Rainbow’s promise. The pot of gold. Vessels.

Vessels of crystal and glass. Of wood and earth. They are all fragile. They break. They crack. So, care for the vessel. The holy carrier of God. Hollow me out, Lord. File away the rough edges so that I may be filled with you. Let the lifeblood flow freely through the vessels of my heart.

"blood vessels" found here