things i'm pondering today...

"The self is a calm stable center surrounded by a continuous changing sea. Merge with yourself and be ready for any emergent sea." Coretta Scott King

Wise ones tell us to be true to ourselves. Being true to ourselves means daring to disagree with a loved one, even when we know it might cause painful tension. It means refusing to go along with the group's plans if our values are being ignored. It means standing alone, if necessary, in our family of origin if their expectations of us no longer nurture our growth. --from "A Woman's Spirit" by Karen Casey

"It is the only thing we can do...I see no alternative; each of us must turn inward and destroy in himself all that he thinks he ought to destroy in others. and remember that every atom of hatred we add to the world makes it still more inhospitable." (written by Etty Hillesum, a woman who ultimately died in Auschwitz...found in Jan Richardson's "Garden of Hollows.")

BlissChick's post, "Does enlightenment mean I'll never be pissed?"

Anger. Forgiveness. Standing up for myself. Personal Value.

I invite you to ponder along with me!

rodin's "thinker" - paris 3.08

bliss

BlissChick stopped by "Diamonds" to welcome me to her newly created “Live Your Bliss Accountability Circle.” Check out the new button and if you’re game join in the fun by writing about your own personal journey toward blissdom. This week's prompt is:

Think about, write about, Mister Linky about...when you visualize your happiest, healthiest, most rockin'est self, what do you see? Where do you see this? What are you doing? Come on! Share!

If you are saying to yourself, ‘Whew, I don’t even know where to begin’…think about these quotes from a couple of guys who help remind me of their definitions of bliss.

“It is not easy to try to say what I know I cannot say…And the simple fact that by being attentive, by learning to listen (or recovering the natural capacity to listen which cannot be learned any more than breathing), we can find ourself engulfed in such happiness that it cannot be explained: the happiness of being at one with everything in that hidden ground of Love for which there can be no explanations.” --Thomas Merton

“The way to find out about your happiness is to keep your mind on those moments when you feel most happy, when you really are happy—not excited, not just thrilled, but deeply happy. This requires a little bit of self-analysis. What is it that makes you happy? Stay with it, no matter what people tell you. This is what I call “following you bliss.”” --Joseph Campbell

My happiest, healthiest, most rockin’ self takes time to be still and listen. I find time to breathe in the air around me; feel the sunshine on my skin and just simply be. Words cannot adequately describe this state of being, but I know when I know that I know. Ya know? ☺

I will be sharing more on this in the weeks to come. Are you ready to follow YOUR bliss? What does that look like for you?

baby whisperer

One of the things I look forward to each month is my visit to see my chiropractor, Dr. Derek. Health benefits aside, I always enjoy meeting with the young doctor for our conversations about the little synchronicities of life. He and his staff have created a welcoming atmosphere in the top floor of an old fire station. There are hardwood floors, natural lighting, and great music.

Last week, I found myself complaining about the change in schedule. Appointment hours were being expanded, but my favorite slot had been eliminated. So, I hemmed and hawed (not so very graciously) and landed on another day and time to try.

This morning when I arrived, I heard a baby crying. I realized it was the doctor’s one year old, Mia, and I overheard him saying they were a little short-handed since his wife was at the dentist and the children were in his care. Shortly, after doing my wobble chair I walked back up to the front and saw little Mia sitting in Grace, the receptionist’s lap. Underneath the desk was Mia’s older brother Ty (3). He and I carried on a wonderful conversation about Thomas the train and friends -- both of us declaring Percy as our favorite.

Soon, Mia was beckoning for my attention. She reached her chubby little arms out, toddled over and let me scoop her up. I thought she might decide quickly that I was someone she did not know and want to go back to the familiar. Nope. We were fast friends. There were three other people ahead of me for adjustments so Mia and I strolled around the space and looked out the window at the mountains and sunshine. I quickly found myself rocking with my “mom sway” that I have not used in many moons! I felt Mia’s weight shift and asked Grace if her little eyes were still open. Nope. Sound asleep. Her body getting heavier with each breath, I sat down and held the slumbering babe.

What a gift! Just a few days ago I wrote about the joy of holding my sleeping children and then today, here I was snuggled up with a little blonde angel. I wondered if somehow the Universe was granting an unknown request submitted by me in my list of 7 favorites. Hmmm…

Too soon, the time came for my own appoint-
ment and I nestled Mia onto a mat on the floor. She, of course, woke up when she was out of my arms, but soon her mother arrived to comfort her. . . The doctor said, “Lucy’s the baby whisperer”. Mom replied with a smile , “Yes, I’ve heard.” It was a wonderful affirmation that my “good mom instincts” are still intact—something that’s easy to question when teenagers are quick to try and convince me otherwise. I like to believe small children are quite perceptive and discerning in who they choose to hang out with. Baby Whisperer…I like it.

So, all of my grousing about changing days and times, turned into this wonderful little glimpse of heaven. I really wonder why I try to control anything at all…it seems like more times than not, changes turn into something more brilliant than I ever could have imagined. Are you a grouser? Or can you let things come as they may? I seem to vacillate between the two…hopefully leaning a little more toward welcoming what comes freely.

photos from paris 3.08

lenten fire

Simmering around the edges, I am reminded often of the fire in my belly that wants to dominate this season of my life. Jan Richardson’s post spoke to me this morning as she wrote of the path where our humanity and the divine meet in fullness. New decisions face me daily which is very exciting…and a little scary ☺.

The image of fire burns like a slow ember at times and then it seems to burst into full flame. This happened to me this morning as I was pondering the path of which Richardson speaks. It came in the reading of one of my favorite bloggers, Barbara at Barefoot toward the Light. I hope you will check out both of these posts, but for now I share my fire with you.

There is nothing to be found,
even if I search.
There is nothing to do but
to warm myself on my own.
There is nothing to do
but to burn my own body
and light the place around me.

--Jukichi Yagi (1898-1927)

So, what lights your fire? Do you consider where your path is leading? Have you claimed an intention for the year? The season? The day? Whatever it is, I hope you will feel the warmth of your own light. If that’s not possible right now, I hope you will warm yourself here. ☺

photo from paris 3.08

queen of the rodeo

Sitting in writing class, we are handed our evening’s exercise to write dialogue. My mind goes blank. I close my eyes and lay my head on the desk while others around me begin to frantically scribble on their notebooks or type away on computer keyboards. Seconds pass, perhaps even minutes. The only dialogue is the one running through my head that begins to question my creativity and my motives. What are you doing in this class? I think about the question and soon themes begin to run through my head: Mother. Jonathon. Spiritual Journey. Authentic voice. They weave and interconnect with each other and morph into an amazing story.

Am I mad? Crazy? Self-absorbed to even consider writing this stuff? What if people read it and hate it? What if they don’t read it at all? Would that be worse?

Wait! my inner voice slows down the stampede of negative thoughts. Who are you writing for? What do you want? What do you need from this?

I need to tell the story – even if I don’t know what “the story” is. It’s writing itself by pouring out in splashes and spills – dribbling out through a sentence or two – a word of dialogue here or there.

Just keep writing, the muse says.

The bold inner critic pipes up: Who the heck do you think you are? No one wants to read your words. Heck, you can’t even string a reasonable sentence together.

Other voices chime in while the dust and chaos of the stampede builds. You gotta get it right. Be sure to cross all your t’s and dot your i’s. Punctuation counts. Be sure it’s all true. You don’t want to make anything up do you? People might find out you’re a fraud and a liar just like James Frey.

“But, but, but”, the stuttering child says. “I’m a good writer. Mrs. Craig said so.”

Yea, but that was in the fourth grade. You’re 52 years old now, more than ½ way toward the grave. Give it up, old girl.

It feels like the whole negative committee of my mind has circled up and threatens to push me over the precipice into the gulch of unfulfilled dreams. Give up. Give up. Give up. Give up.

I put my hands over my ears, squeeze my eyes tightly shut and begin to breathe deeply until a new voice enters the midst. “Thank you all for coming,” a calm woman sitting tall in the saddle appears, “but we won’t be needing your input today.”

I like this woman. She’s like Lucy all grown up. She is strong and kind. Her voice is like velvet and her words drift over the raucous committee like a gentle mist covering the valley of a fairy tale. The naysayers begin to lay down one by one. Sarcasm gives one last ditch effort before tumbling out of my mind, So you think you can do this thing, huh? Yea, right, she says weakly.

And then the velvet-voiced woman is joined by another and another and another as they all chime in with cheering and encouraging voices.

“Just keep writing! You are the Queen of this rodeo!!!”

collage by Kathy Otero - a gift from my husband