Let the Little Children Come

So, when and how do we cease to be childlike? Must we? Is it a requirement for adulthood? Jesus said, “Let the little children come.” It sounds so inviting. It certainly feels to me that I am closer to God in a childlike and simple state than in all the seriousness of adulthood.

When did things get so complicated? When did I become the grownup? Is there a button that gets pushed? Is it irreversible? I think the change begins when the world starts to press in. The negative messages start to come. “Don’t do this.” “Don’t do that.” “Don’t act like a child.”

Why the heck not? The kingdom of heaven is for the children of God. Get it? The children—not the grownups—the fuddy duddies—the policy makers. Blessed are the poor, the meek, the humble. Who is more poor (and therefore rich) than a newborn babe? Who is more meek (and thus bolder) than a child who knows no condemnation? Who is more humble (and consequently more brilliant) than one who does not recognize (and yet somehow fully knows) his own beauty?

When does it change? Must it?

“We do not quit playing because we grow old. We grow old because we quit playing.” –Oliver Wendell Holmes

photo by geezer dude

Hummingbird

Keeping our eyes open to the miracles of the world. Somewhere in my history the message was instilled that it was “playing with fire” to consider any interpretation of life outside of the Bible. If this is true, I have to wonder why all these other people, places and things were put on earth (i.e. created) if we aren’t supposed to pay attention to them.

That’s a long intro to say that hummingbirds have been showing up on my path and I think they are trying to tell me something. Some of you may recall that in the winter, dolphins became a symbol for me and reminded me to focus more on breath and movement.

Lately, I have been wrestling a bit with other topics. While I am a full believer that life is a journey to be lived rather than endured, some days the realities of life (pain, teenagers, people with all the answers) send me running for the covers. I am also a proponent of taking the time to rest, quit processing and let things just be for awhile, but realize that sometimes it can get a little too comfy down there under the “woes me” blanket and I need a reminder to ease off the covers.

Enter the hummingbird ☺. I have always been fascinated by these lovely creatures and recently they have been popping up everywhere—always at someone else’s home. Yesterday, however, I stood at my kitchen window and watched a hummingbird enjoying my garden. It was the first time I ever saw one in my own yard. I was spellbound.

This morning when I awoke, I thought “wouldn’t it be nice to just focus on the hummingbird today instead of all the other things?” And so after journaling I decided to look up the hummingbird in “Animal Speak.”

Did you know? (The following are quotes.)

• The hummingbird reminds us to find joy in what we do and to sing it out.
• It reminds us that if we truly enjoy what we are doing, we become light as a feather, and life is rich with nectar.
• The hummingbird can help you to find joy and sweetness in any situation. Its swiftness is always a reminder to grab joy while you can—as quickly as you can.
• The hummingbird is a symbol for accomplishing that which seems impossible. It will teach you how to find the miracle of joyful living from your own life circumstances.

Wonderful and rich reminders from such a little creature. And, so I start this day with the blessing of the hummingbird--in my humble opinion, one of God’s great creatures in a teeny tiny package.

Playing with fire? Hmmm. Maybe, but it feels like a risk worth taking!

photo from google images

I Choose Life

Words from my journal--June, 2005:

I would love to spend another night out here and I realize/I KNOW that it would not be the same without the day. We need both--the bitter and the sweet (the dark and the light). When we have gone to hell and seen it, felt it, lived it--life is much sweeter just as the night's cool and calm contrasts to the heat and chaos of the day. Both/And. The whole package.

They will come in gradations but we need both. The fears will keep me running and reaching for life, lest I ever take life for granted. The bitter and the sweet. The swing of the pendulum. I may never know how far it needs to go to the dark side and often I don't have a choice especially where circumstances are out of my control. But, I can choose for myself how and where I go.

Will I covet and grovel in the pain and fear and anger and self-pity, etc. as I did yesterday? Or will I patiently wait and trust that the cool of the night will come? The heat is turning up as the sun is rising. How will I choose to stay cool?

I Choose Life!

Solitude...Conviction

Northwoods Contemplative's recent post "Solitude of Heart" shares some wonderful words from one of my favorite writers, Henri Nouwen. (I hope you can take the time to read the whole post.) While reading I could not get the song by Kenny Loggins, "Conviction of the Heart" out of my head. The two are linked I believe.

A man or woman who has developed this solitude of heart is no longer pulled apart by the most divergent stimuli of the surrounding world but is able to perceive and understand this world from a quiet inner center. --Henri Nouwen

Do we forget or forgive?
Theres a whole other life waiting to be lived when...
One day we're brave enough
To talk with conviction of the heart. --Kenny Loggins

You can see Loggins perform the whole song here.

I have to wonder if "Solitude of Heart" will not lead to "Conviction of the Heart." I'd love to know what you think.

Pain

Today I begin with a disclaimer stating that I am not a whiner by nature and really am not fond of the aging crowd’s propensity to discuss physical ailments as a source of entertainment, however, there is a point (I hope) to sharing my current discomfort. You see, I have been in physical pain for almost a month now. The pain appears to be in my right arm which is kind of a problem since I am right-handed. During my lifetime, I have come to realize that I have a pretty significant tolerance for pain that was first pointed out to me with the birth of my son and then again with my daughter as no pain medications were necessary for delivery. (I must add this is a point of pride for me and I should probably let it go, but probably not today ☺). My current pain has been one that I first noticed when I was in Texas facilitating a workshop and I thought I had slept wrong on my arm, but after several days, weeks and now a month the pain has not gone away.

I visited my chiropractor who said if this isn’t better in a day or so, come back. I went back two weeks later ☺ when I had myself convinced I had a tumor in my back and was probably going to die soon and for a moment or two that seemed okay. Always the question of what level (number) is your pain? I don’t know but it really hurts so it must be bad.

Now, why do I tell you all of this? Well, since visiting a massage therapist (the next recommended course of action) I have had vivid images rattling around in my head. I slept with them last night and had a great essay written in my dreams, but, of course, cannot remember those “perfect” words this morning. The idea, however, is along these lines: if we hold tightly to something, the pain will stay with us. It feels protective and better in the moment, but in the long run the pain and ineffectiveness only deepens rather than dissipating. Hmm. Sounds like life to me.

All those verses of “you must lose your life to gain it”; the old butterfly poster poem of “if you love something, set it free”; “surrender your will to find your dreams” keep running through my head. The momentary instinct has been to hold my arm close and keep the pain from radiating throughout my body; to sleep tightly bundled up so I don’t move and thus hurt. The pain seems to be in my arm and my arm wants to be protected, but what I discovered yesterday is that the culprit is really a muscle (or bunch of nerves) in my chest and everything radiates from there.

As I hold tightly the muscle shrinks and while the pain is better for the moment, this holding on is actually further limiting my ability to move. In fact, rather than sleeping in a still ball, I am better served by lying with my arms wide open, stretching the muscle rather than further constricting it.

And so, that is what I believe we are called to do with life. Stretch. We are to stretch with our arms wide open. If we do not we will atrophy. In other words, use it or lose it. Sometimes we need the protection and safety of curling up and covering our hearts, but in the long run we are called to risk. To risk that first pain that grabs us and says, “go no further.” We are called to look fear in the face and say, “today I will test myself just a little bit.” I will stretch my arm to see if I can move a little further.

Even though this is not exactly the essay I wrote in my sleep last night, I hope you get the picture. I still have a hundred metaphors running around in my brain about this whole incident, but bottom line is that today even though my arm still hurts (unfortunately cures are not instant and take some hard work), I have hope. I can feel more movement and I am working with the pain rather than against it. I hope I will choose to do the same with my life. I hope you will too ☺.

photo by mary jane hughlett - belgian congo circa 1950's