“Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.”
Kahlil Gibran
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Quote For The Day
"Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding."
Kahlil Gibran
Kahlil Gibran
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Quote For The Day
"Rudeness is a weak imitation of strength."
Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983
Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Quote For The Day
"Poets are soldiers that liberate words from the steadfast possession of definition."
Eli Khamarov
Eli Khamarov
Friday, March 20, 2009
Quote For The Day & The Gratitude Pool
“Language is the archives of history.”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson, writer and philosopher (1803-1882)
-Ralph Waldo Emerson, writer and philosopher (1803-1882)
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Branching Out
It is said that we are all one; a part of one another; unique, individual yet the same; like limbs of a tree.
Pondering this thought over the years has taken many twists and turns as with each life experience, I’ve faced gnarls and windbends, whorls and snapping breaks of the branches of my own tree.
It never ceases to amaze me how varied human leaves look, sound, act, react or cease in the storms that this tree of life weathers.
Bending in sweetness to birdsong as a winged one alights in softness on a sturdy shoulder; swinging low with bountiful harvest of luscious ripening of the seasons, holding fast in the face of fierce storms, arms held akimbo reaching for light in the darkness and growing into fantastical shapes with aching, arching of years of survival in all life’s gales and gasps show the simplicity and intricacy of patterning on which one comes to depend for framework. A how-the-world-should-look-and-be in what is named normalcy.
Yet where one might suspect sapling flexibility there may arise oaken solidity unbending; fertile fruit bearing females may fail, male monoliths may moss, and where willows weeping-wend low they may wildly wail warning and warring while weathering the world.
How can it be that if we are all indeed one, there is such diversity, intensity and perversity on the tree of life?
One is tempted to be lulled into a false sense of illusion that leads to expectations of drops of kindness falling gently on leaves being met with kindness of receiving; joy shining in sunshine returning bright, reflective joy; compassion greeted green with whispering breezes empathetically enfolding and satin sadness shaded by the underside of understanding of silver soft leaves.
It is not always so, this vision of how things which seem to have always been will always be.
Therefore questions crop up as behaviors metamorphosis in conditions of global warming, economic explosions and scorched earth wars wreak havoc on the roots of our foresty home.
Chaos of color collapses into challenge to change beyond accustomed seasonal sensations.
Where green at its worst, was envy, it is now greed. Riotous Autumnal ruby reds are flames of fury; buttery yellows of golden years turn into fears for future and burnt browns and siennas represent shades of balefulness.
How can our roots hold fast while limbs have been arched in agony, twisted beyond recognition and broken in breach of faith while the trunk of our tree of life is interminably tested?
Can we, arms of this essential elm, embrace each other and weave together a tapestry of stronger support so that we all may live long and well enough to see other bebranched beeches benefit; palms together play; willows whisper wonder and gingkos give the gold of memory for hickory heirs yet to spring forth?
Will we want to wake up enough to branch out in saner directions; to bring our best to the borrowed time in which we’ find our firred and furrowed forest and are we willing to look deeply inside the bark of ourselves to become aware of and acknowledge our shortcomings and see the lunatic in limbs gone gaga?
Can we manifest peace and perfection without courage for a good look at our family tree and, in the middle of madness all around us, when found to be outrageously out of control; whacked out in our own wilder-ness, can we honestly own our own behavior, see our common roots in "out of my tree' behaviors and answer, without shame or blame, with perhaps a shower of light, the tree trimming question, “From what branch of the Crazy Tree did you fall?”
Pondering this thought over the years has taken many twists and turns as with each life experience, I’ve faced gnarls and windbends, whorls and snapping breaks of the branches of my own tree.
It never ceases to amaze me how varied human leaves look, sound, act, react or cease in the storms that this tree of life weathers.
Bending in sweetness to birdsong as a winged one alights in softness on a sturdy shoulder; swinging low with bountiful harvest of luscious ripening of the seasons, holding fast in the face of fierce storms, arms held akimbo reaching for light in the darkness and growing into fantastical shapes with aching, arching of years of survival in all life’s gales and gasps show the simplicity and intricacy of patterning on which one comes to depend for framework. A how-the-world-should-look-and-be in what is named normalcy.
Yet where one might suspect sapling flexibility there may arise oaken solidity unbending; fertile fruit bearing females may fail, male monoliths may moss, and where willows weeping-wend low they may wildly wail warning and warring while weathering the world.
How can it be that if we are all indeed one, there is such diversity, intensity and perversity on the tree of life?
One is tempted to be lulled into a false sense of illusion that leads to expectations of drops of kindness falling gently on leaves being met with kindness of receiving; joy shining in sunshine returning bright, reflective joy; compassion greeted green with whispering breezes empathetically enfolding and satin sadness shaded by the underside of understanding of silver soft leaves.
It is not always so, this vision of how things which seem to have always been will always be.
Therefore questions crop up as behaviors metamorphosis in conditions of global warming, economic explosions and scorched earth wars wreak havoc on the roots of our foresty home.
Chaos of color collapses into challenge to change beyond accustomed seasonal sensations.
Where green at its worst, was envy, it is now greed. Riotous Autumnal ruby reds are flames of fury; buttery yellows of golden years turn into fears for future and burnt browns and siennas represent shades of balefulness.
How can our roots hold fast while limbs have been arched in agony, twisted beyond recognition and broken in breach of faith while the trunk of our tree of life is interminably tested?
Can we, arms of this essential elm, embrace each other and weave together a tapestry of stronger support so that we all may live long and well enough to see other bebranched beeches benefit; palms together play; willows whisper wonder and gingkos give the gold of memory for hickory heirs yet to spring forth?
Will we want to wake up enough to branch out in saner directions; to bring our best to the borrowed time in which we’ find our firred and furrowed forest and are we willing to look deeply inside the bark of ourselves to become aware of and acknowledge our shortcomings and see the lunatic in limbs gone gaga?
Can we manifest peace and perfection without courage for a good look at our family tree and, in the middle of madness all around us, when found to be outrageously out of control; whacked out in our own wilder-ness, can we honestly own our own behavior, see our common roots in "out of my tree' behaviors and answer, without shame or blame, with perhaps a shower of light, the tree trimming question, “From what branch of the Crazy Tree did you fall?”
Monday, March 16, 2009
Quote For The Day & The Gratitude Pool
“We could certainly slow the aging process down if it had to work its way through Congress.”
Will Rogers
Will Rogers
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Quote For The Day & The Gratitude Pool
“”Now more than ever the receptors are open for those who couldn’t hear it before. So fill the air with love as you, I know, always have.”
Ed Barisano
Ed Barisano
Cry Me A River
“When life is challenging and I’ve girded my loins for whatever hard times, words, emotions or actions may come, the cells of my body clench together like little fists making up stones for my walls of defense for survival.
This is me trying to be stoic, strong, courageous in the face of trial, turmoil and turbulent times. Mostly it’s a protection mechanism that kicks in the minute shock, unexpected change or unpleasantness hits.
Survival in the face of loss; sturdiness of resolve to weather the storm and dredging up the wherewithal to stand the onslaught of the tiger is still in my being from prehistoric times. It’s in the genes. It’s the flight or fight syndrome in response to stress which consumes brain power, pulls my shoulders up into tuck position under both ears and sets me up for, at the very least, the need for a chiropractic adjustment.
Emotions get held in behind a wall of trying to hold up. Heart clenches and bones ache with the effort. God only know what the other vital organs are going through. I’m thinking the expressions, ‘hardening of the arteries,’ ‘hard hearted’ and ’hard of hearing’ aren’t being tossed around like salad for nothing.
When I’m so busy toughening up for whatever hard moments seem set to attack, I have noticed that my heart hurts, anger covers hurt and my listening skills decrease in width and depth to the height of crisis.
For most of my life, the one thing I’ve tried not to do in this arena is cry.
Upon feeling myself about to leak at the eyeballs, weak, vulnerable and loser are words that come quickly to mind. And then the orbital sockets strain with pain of fluid retention and girding begins.
Recently a good friend shared with me that she also worked her whole life to not cry. Now she can rarely accomplish this human feat of body and emotion when she know it might be helpful. She has become invincible; a giant warrior woman in a little granny’s body who takes no crap from anyone and, like me, sometimes has hard words or reactions pop out her sideways to zap those within bruising distance.
She is a stalwart advocate to have by your side in a fight and a bolster for one’s own backbone in adversity. I’m thinking she was a cave woman to be reckoned with by beasts of the forest and tribe members alike.
Defenders of the nest, lioness of the pride, and tigress to her cubs are appellations that suit us both-then and now.
I must be getting older or wiser because I want more than that kind of survival now. I know that when I’ve cried buckets of tears, I come away from the experience feeling easier in my skin, ready for a good nap and with the ability to feel all my feelings and the softness of sheets and pillows to boot.
It is as though I’ve been emptied of burdens too large and heavy to carry and though whatever I face might not have changed, I have.
My eyes may be red rimmed, my sinuses all schnuffly and nose puffed up yet my heart has eased into a calmer beat and breathing reaches all the way down to my lower abdomen easing out every vertebrae in my spine.
So why don’t I do this more often? Why wait until it’s a flood of gut wrenching proportions that gags me on it’s way out? How stuck in Neanderthal times am I and when can I choose to come forward in evolution?
When they say, “Old habits die hard,” they weren’t kidding.
I have decided that, though there have been horrific times when not existing in this world sounded momentarily good, I don’t want to ‘die hard.’
So, I’m going to practice becoming aware of when I feel little hurts or fears or challenges arise and allow myself to shed tears. I’m going to watch sappy emotional movies and cry until I’m not embarrassed to be seen feeling feelings. I’m going to carry tissues and keep them handy for every tiny touching moment life has to throw at me-good, bad or indifferent.
I don’t want to wait only until the concrete of my facade finally cracks, the damn dam burst and floods the plains of my existence.
I want to ease my soul, heart and tear ducts with rivers, streams and trickles of water down my face.
Why shouldn’t I live my own quoted words, “Tears soften my edges,” when I know the benefit for body, mind and spirit of that truth?
I feel softer, lighter and saner after a good cry; more in touch with my center and easier in breath and skin. More oxygen seems to get to my brain and I can focus on the heart of each matter instead of being scared witless behind a facade of the illusion of strength.
In truth, I feel good; stronger for the softness and nobody else gets hurt by bumping into my pointy, sharp edges.
When a friend said recently, “I know you’re facing some high hurdles but please, remember your center, dear,” my response was a childlike wail, “ I can’t find it right now. I can’t remember what it looks like.”
“Well I remember it and I know you will find it again too.”
Now that’s a gift.
It enabled me to let go and cry with relief that I was not alone loin girding like a David against Goliath and gratitude for her loving heart.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as my shoulders lowered and my cells expanded with the light of her love and my allowing tears to soften my edges.
There may not have been a solution immediately at hand, yet I felt less bowstring taut. No arrows flew at me or from me and I could let go of outcomes and simply be.
That basic task can be the most difficult thing to do in the human form. Be.
For years I’ve been in awe of my daughter in law, who is divinely named, Hope. The first time we went to the movies together, she cried during the emotionally touching scenes and I, who was feeling the same empathy for the situations and characters portrayed on the big screen, choked back my tears until my eyes and throat hurt from the effort. I blinked furiously, stared at anywhere else in the theatre to distance myself from the overpowering emotions and snatched glances at this beautiful young woman beside me who wept unabashedly and wholly appropriately in sadness and joy; no filter. I thought, ‘Wow! How does she do that? She is amazing!’ What a power of example she is. And her family is equally open, expressive and in touch with feelings. Her over 6 plus foot tall Dad was a superman of weeping with joy at the wedding. How great is that? And her lovely, sensitive Mom tears up in happiness each visit or upon leavetaking because she will miss her daughter when she goes home.
These wonderful human be-ings help me stay in the moment and remind me that crying is also a loving thing; a leaning into the heart which heals and makes whole.
After a good cry, I feel cleansed, more flexible, softer and oddly stronger.
And, now that I think of it, could that be why they call it ‘a good cry?!’
When I cry, I am present in the now, fully feeling, not shut down or cut off.
I’m able to be connected with others when I’m connected to my self. It is in the fertile fields, watered with weeping, where I can crack open the seed casing circumstances build and allow myself the softness of Spring, green growing, bending into the earth around me to blossom into the light.
I am soft petal and strong stem; able to wave, bend and stand tall in whatever breeze or gale force comes my way, as long as I keep the life giving and easing water flowing.
So join me in this practice if you will. Notice where you hold off and where you can receive; where you pull in and where you ease out.
Then cry when you feel frightened, lonely, hurt, sad, happy, joy filled, weak or strong.
Cry me a river and know that you are not alone in your feelings or challenges.
Together we can flow to the calming sea of unity and connection, where, in our softened state, solutions can float to us in ways, perhaps different from the way we wish, yet better than we can imagine.
I’m seeing you shine with light glistening on your tears.
This is me trying to be stoic, strong, courageous in the face of trial, turmoil and turbulent times. Mostly it’s a protection mechanism that kicks in the minute shock, unexpected change or unpleasantness hits.
Survival in the face of loss; sturdiness of resolve to weather the storm and dredging up the wherewithal to stand the onslaught of the tiger is still in my being from prehistoric times. It’s in the genes. It’s the flight or fight syndrome in response to stress which consumes brain power, pulls my shoulders up into tuck position under both ears and sets me up for, at the very least, the need for a chiropractic adjustment.
Emotions get held in behind a wall of trying to hold up. Heart clenches and bones ache with the effort. God only know what the other vital organs are going through. I’m thinking the expressions, ‘hardening of the arteries,’ ‘hard hearted’ and ’hard of hearing’ aren’t being tossed around like salad for nothing.
When I’m so busy toughening up for whatever hard moments seem set to attack, I have noticed that my heart hurts, anger covers hurt and my listening skills decrease in width and depth to the height of crisis.
For most of my life, the one thing I’ve tried not to do in this arena is cry.
Upon feeling myself about to leak at the eyeballs, weak, vulnerable and loser are words that come quickly to mind. And then the orbital sockets strain with pain of fluid retention and girding begins.
Recently a good friend shared with me that she also worked her whole life to not cry. Now she can rarely accomplish this human feat of body and emotion when she know it might be helpful. She has become invincible; a giant warrior woman in a little granny’s body who takes no crap from anyone and, like me, sometimes has hard words or reactions pop out her sideways to zap those within bruising distance.
She is a stalwart advocate to have by your side in a fight and a bolster for one’s own backbone in adversity. I’m thinking she was a cave woman to be reckoned with by beasts of the forest and tribe members alike.
Defenders of the nest, lioness of the pride, and tigress to her cubs are appellations that suit us both-then and now.
I must be getting older or wiser because I want more than that kind of survival now. I know that when I’ve cried buckets of tears, I come away from the experience feeling easier in my skin, ready for a good nap and with the ability to feel all my feelings and the softness of sheets and pillows to boot.
It is as though I’ve been emptied of burdens too large and heavy to carry and though whatever I face might not have changed, I have.
My eyes may be red rimmed, my sinuses all schnuffly and nose puffed up yet my heart has eased into a calmer beat and breathing reaches all the way down to my lower abdomen easing out every vertebrae in my spine.
So why don’t I do this more often? Why wait until it’s a flood of gut wrenching proportions that gags me on it’s way out? How stuck in Neanderthal times am I and when can I choose to come forward in evolution?
When they say, “Old habits die hard,” they weren’t kidding.
I have decided that, though there have been horrific times when not existing in this world sounded momentarily good, I don’t want to ‘die hard.’
So, I’m going to practice becoming aware of when I feel little hurts or fears or challenges arise and allow myself to shed tears. I’m going to watch sappy emotional movies and cry until I’m not embarrassed to be seen feeling feelings. I’m going to carry tissues and keep them handy for every tiny touching moment life has to throw at me-good, bad or indifferent.
I don’t want to wait only until the concrete of my facade finally cracks, the damn dam burst and floods the plains of my existence.
I want to ease my soul, heart and tear ducts with rivers, streams and trickles of water down my face.
Why shouldn’t I live my own quoted words, “Tears soften my edges,” when I know the benefit for body, mind and spirit of that truth?
I feel softer, lighter and saner after a good cry; more in touch with my center and easier in breath and skin. More oxygen seems to get to my brain and I can focus on the heart of each matter instead of being scared witless behind a facade of the illusion of strength.
In truth, I feel good; stronger for the softness and nobody else gets hurt by bumping into my pointy, sharp edges.
When a friend said recently, “I know you’re facing some high hurdles but please, remember your center, dear,” my response was a childlike wail, “ I can’t find it right now. I can’t remember what it looks like.”
“Well I remember it and I know you will find it again too.”
Now that’s a gift.
It enabled me to let go and cry with relief that I was not alone loin girding like a David against Goliath and gratitude for her loving heart.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as my shoulders lowered and my cells expanded with the light of her love and my allowing tears to soften my edges.
There may not have been a solution immediately at hand, yet I felt less bowstring taut. No arrows flew at me or from me and I could let go of outcomes and simply be.
That basic task can be the most difficult thing to do in the human form. Be.
For years I’ve been in awe of my daughter in law, who is divinely named, Hope. The first time we went to the movies together, she cried during the emotionally touching scenes and I, who was feeling the same empathy for the situations and characters portrayed on the big screen, choked back my tears until my eyes and throat hurt from the effort. I blinked furiously, stared at anywhere else in the theatre to distance myself from the overpowering emotions and snatched glances at this beautiful young woman beside me who wept unabashedly and wholly appropriately in sadness and joy; no filter. I thought, ‘Wow! How does she do that? She is amazing!’ What a power of example she is. And her family is equally open, expressive and in touch with feelings. Her over 6 plus foot tall Dad was a superman of weeping with joy at the wedding. How great is that? And her lovely, sensitive Mom tears up in happiness each visit or upon leavetaking because she will miss her daughter when she goes home.
These wonderful human be-ings help me stay in the moment and remind me that crying is also a loving thing; a leaning into the heart which heals and makes whole.
After a good cry, I feel cleansed, more flexible, softer and oddly stronger.
And, now that I think of it, could that be why they call it ‘a good cry?!’
When I cry, I am present in the now, fully feeling, not shut down or cut off.
I’m able to be connected with others when I’m connected to my self. It is in the fertile fields, watered with weeping, where I can crack open the seed casing circumstances build and allow myself the softness of Spring, green growing, bending into the earth around me to blossom into the light.
I am soft petal and strong stem; able to wave, bend and stand tall in whatever breeze or gale force comes my way, as long as I keep the life giving and easing water flowing.
So join me in this practice if you will. Notice where you hold off and where you can receive; where you pull in and where you ease out.
Then cry when you feel frightened, lonely, hurt, sad, happy, joy filled, weak or strong.
Cry me a river and know that you are not alone in your feelings or challenges.
Together we can flow to the calming sea of unity and connection, where, in our softened state, solutions can float to us in ways, perhaps different from the way we wish, yet better than we can imagine.
I’m seeing you shine with light glistening on your tears.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Monday, March 09, 2009
Quote For The Day & The Gratitude Pool
"There are some days (or some moments in the day) when I'm not feeling grateful for either what i have or what I have escaped.
So sorry to say it -yet it's the truth.
I'm reminded that there's gratitude deep down inside me somewhere and it will appear again.
I have the funny feeling it's going to pop out in feeling funny."
Florence Ondré
So sorry to say it -yet it's the truth.
I'm reminded that there's gratitude deep down inside me somewhere and it will appear again.
I have the funny feeling it's going to pop out in feeling funny."
Florence Ondré
Quote For The Day
"If you can't be content with what you have received, be thankful for what you have escaped."
Anonymous
Anonymous
Friday, March 06, 2009
Insult To Injury
Why is it that, when you go to the doctor's office, you are asked to wait while they take calls.
"We'll be right with you. Excuse me but I must take this call. This is an important call, just give me a minute here."
Any of the above statements are generally made while you are standing in some degree of discomfort or doubled over in pain with your head slumped on their desk or counter, which may be the only thing holding you upright.
Well, you think to yourself, it's probably a really important phone call and after all, you are already there. They certainly wouldn't keep you waiting if it weren't important.
And then you think, really this is a good thing, because when you call, you most certainly will want them to take your call and deal with your needs right away too.
You go home feeling safe in the knowledge that you will be treated as well with that kind of attention when you need to call in.
A smile eases across your face and a sigh escapes your lips.
Then the day comes when you are the one calling in.
And what do you get?
"Dr Gotchacovered3waysfromsunday's office. Hold please?"
You get out, "Hi this is..." before
Bang. They're off the phone and you are left listening to muzak at loud decibels or advertisements touting the praises of the doc's many swell services.
Bing! They're back on the line, "Hi, Can you hold please."
Wham! Gone again before you can say yea or nay.
You find yourself fighting the urge to reach through the phone to commit a bit of mayhem while la la la la’s run through your brain trying to drown out the tunes you never wanted to hear shrilling out of the earpiece.
They’re back, “Who is this? Hold on. I have to finish the patient in front of me.”
Click.
WTF?
And here you are in the quagmire of thoughtlessness at the intersection of “Rudeness and Whine.”
You sit stunned, wondering if is it just you, did your deodorant fail or was your breath offensive.
Ultimately arriving at the corners of “Conclusion and Don’ttakethispersonally.”
It is them.
Their system of multitasking doesn’t work. Trying to be all things to all people does not work.
It makes for an arena of folks becoming cluttered, incapable and non efficient when thinking they’re perfectly so.
A thought dear physicians and your office people:
“Put one person at the desk and one on the phones, puleeeez.”
They just don’t get that finishing with one person at a time and giving your full attention to that patient will get things done more efficiently and effectively with everyone feeling cared for.
And isn’t that why we go to the doctor in the first place?
Nu?.
"We'll be right with you. Excuse me but I must take this call. This is an important call, just give me a minute here."
Any of the above statements are generally made while you are standing in some degree of discomfort or doubled over in pain with your head slumped on their desk or counter, which may be the only thing holding you upright.
Well, you think to yourself, it's probably a really important phone call and after all, you are already there. They certainly wouldn't keep you waiting if it weren't important.
And then you think, really this is a good thing, because when you call, you most certainly will want them to take your call and deal with your needs right away too.
You go home feeling safe in the knowledge that you will be treated as well with that kind of attention when you need to call in.
A smile eases across your face and a sigh escapes your lips.
Then the day comes when you are the one calling in.
And what do you get?
"Dr Gotchacovered3waysfromsunday's office. Hold please?"
You get out, "Hi this is..." before
Bang. They're off the phone and you are left listening to muzak at loud decibels or advertisements touting the praises of the doc's many swell services.
Bing! They're back on the line, "Hi, Can you hold please."
Wham! Gone again before you can say yea or nay.
You find yourself fighting the urge to reach through the phone to commit a bit of mayhem while la la la la’s run through your brain trying to drown out the tunes you never wanted to hear shrilling out of the earpiece.
They’re back, “Who is this? Hold on. I have to finish the patient in front of me.”
Click.
WTF?
And here you are in the quagmire of thoughtlessness at the intersection of “Rudeness and Whine.”
You sit stunned, wondering if is it just you, did your deodorant fail or was your breath offensive.
Ultimately arriving at the corners of “Conclusion and Don’ttakethispersonally.”
It is them.
Their system of multitasking doesn’t work. Trying to be all things to all people does not work.
It makes for an arena of folks becoming cluttered, incapable and non efficient when thinking they’re perfectly so.
A thought dear physicians and your office people:
“Put one person at the desk and one on the phones, puleeeez.”
They just don’t get that finishing with one person at a time and giving your full attention to that patient will get things done more efficiently and effectively with everyone feeling cared for.
And isn’t that why we go to the doctor in the first place?
Nu?.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
"A Little Goes A Long Way"
By Florence Ondré
This attribute; this commodity; this vaporous substance; ever seeming in short supply could go for big bucks and have a street value higher than pain pills.
This illusive energy flits away like a firefly in July. Now you see it; now you don’t.
Just think of the daily commute; hours in traffic and, no matter how much you know that this is a process and it’s going to take some time to get to your destination, you’re tired; worn thin from the day. You’re looking forward to getting in your domicile, closing the door on the world, taking a nice long shower or tub, eating and dropping into bed. All without other people and their energies crashing in on you like uninvited party guests.
Ahhh, would that all your kindness, compassion and understanding could stay present all the time to keep your basest. grubby, forgetfulness of niceties at bay.
You are, after all really a very nice person. You know it; others have said so and doggone it, people like you.
Having stated the obvious, you might just begin to discern a smidge of foam at the side of your mouth and notice that your jaws are clenched tighter than a noose around a prisoner’s neck at the lynching. Your shoulders have pinned your ears up about an inch and a half at the very least and there are already itsy bitsy trenches between your eyebrows, which are closer than you remember from the morning mirror look-see.
It’s official. You are at the very least…cranky; verging on an slippy slidey path to agitated and irate.
Reasonable has left the building and willingly follows you like a growing shadow that Peter Pan could not possibly fit to your shoe no matter how much fairy dust Tinker Bell sprinkles on.
You’re exhausted and overloaded with whatever giant economy (ha) size big gulp of fear you bought on sale today.
The mere thought of having to wait cheerfully while the world goes to hell in its horrible little handbasket -or ,at the very least, wait without shrieking or seizing someone by the throat as they slow up traffic, make dumb mistakes, cut you off, walk in front of you like you didn’t exist or have the right to take up room on the pavement or give you the finger or a less than kind word is beyond ability.
You, dear soul, have reached your wits end.
And wasn’t that a shorter trip than you ever dreamed it would be?
You have run out of that preciousness called patience.
What could you have been thinking? How did you lose it and where did it disapear along the way?
It’s a stunner, isn’t it, when you think back on the train wrecks which follow the slip this energy gives you?
Even a kind word can send you over the edge into a tantrum.
“What could that dimwit been thinking when she said, ‘Have a nice day’? Did she forget that payroll was short, we didn’t get lunch and now it’s traffic snarls to match my mood in the stretched to over 3 hour commute home! What is she? Some kind of vicious hobgoblin? Nice day, my ass!”
This about one of your favorite colleagues, friends or neighbors.
Well, you might just want to take in a breath, release those shoulders from their perch as fleshy earirngs and remember that everything is gonna take as long as it takes and there’s a divine timing in flow that is bringing things about in ways better than you can imagine.
Might as well, put on some music, notice one good thing, feel the release and a smoother heart rate as you settle into change and, once again, practice patience.
Even one small moment when you have patience counts and when you have it for yourself, you can have it with others and situations over which you probably have minute (if any) control.
Then you could just think on how you didn’t throttle anyone today-even if you thought about it.
That’s gratitude following patience… and self restraint.
As Martin Luther King Jr said, “I may not get there with you……”
Just for today, it’s possible I’m right behind you, flying my crankyflag high until the process brings me that little bit which goes a long way home.
This attribute; this commodity; this vaporous substance; ever seeming in short supply could go for big bucks and have a street value higher than pain pills.
This illusive energy flits away like a firefly in July. Now you see it; now you don’t.
Just think of the daily commute; hours in traffic and, no matter how much you know that this is a process and it’s going to take some time to get to your destination, you’re tired; worn thin from the day. You’re looking forward to getting in your domicile, closing the door on the world, taking a nice long shower or tub, eating and dropping into bed. All without other people and their energies crashing in on you like uninvited party guests.
Ahhh, would that all your kindness, compassion and understanding could stay present all the time to keep your basest. grubby, forgetfulness of niceties at bay.
You are, after all really a very nice person. You know it; others have said so and doggone it, people like you.
Having stated the obvious, you might just begin to discern a smidge of foam at the side of your mouth and notice that your jaws are clenched tighter than a noose around a prisoner’s neck at the lynching. Your shoulders have pinned your ears up about an inch and a half at the very least and there are already itsy bitsy trenches between your eyebrows, which are closer than you remember from the morning mirror look-see.
It’s official. You are at the very least…cranky; verging on an slippy slidey path to agitated and irate.
Reasonable has left the building and willingly follows you like a growing shadow that Peter Pan could not possibly fit to your shoe no matter how much fairy dust Tinker Bell sprinkles on.
You’re exhausted and overloaded with whatever giant economy (ha) size big gulp of fear you bought on sale today.
The mere thought of having to wait cheerfully while the world goes to hell in its horrible little handbasket -or ,at the very least, wait without shrieking or seizing someone by the throat as they slow up traffic, make dumb mistakes, cut you off, walk in front of you like you didn’t exist or have the right to take up room on the pavement or give you the finger or a less than kind word is beyond ability.
You, dear soul, have reached your wits end.
And wasn’t that a shorter trip than you ever dreamed it would be?
You have run out of that preciousness called patience.
What could you have been thinking? How did you lose it and where did it disapear along the way?
It’s a stunner, isn’t it, when you think back on the train wrecks which follow the slip this energy gives you?
Even a kind word can send you over the edge into a tantrum.
“What could that dimwit been thinking when she said, ‘Have a nice day’? Did she forget that payroll was short, we didn’t get lunch and now it’s traffic snarls to match my mood in the stretched to over 3 hour commute home! What is she? Some kind of vicious hobgoblin? Nice day, my ass!”
This about one of your favorite colleagues, friends or neighbors.
Well, you might just want to take in a breath, release those shoulders from their perch as fleshy earirngs and remember that everything is gonna take as long as it takes and there’s a divine timing in flow that is bringing things about in ways better than you can imagine.
Might as well, put on some music, notice one good thing, feel the release and a smoother heart rate as you settle into change and, once again, practice patience.
Even one small moment when you have patience counts and when you have it for yourself, you can have it with others and situations over which you probably have minute (if any) control.
Then you could just think on how you didn’t throttle anyone today-even if you thought about it.
That’s gratitude following patience… and self restraint.
As Martin Luther King Jr said, “I may not get there with you……”
Just for today, it’s possible I’m right behind you, flying my crankyflag high until the process brings me that little bit which goes a long way home.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Quote For The Day
"God’s people fail a hundred times
Before each day is done.
But Grace, in whispers, lifts them up
One hundred times and one."
William D. Blake
Before each day is done.
But Grace, in whispers, lifts them up
One hundred times and one."
William D. Blake
WWW
No, not the world wide web
Nor world wide wrestling
Just winter white wonderland
With all its dazzling glory and hush
Crisp cold softening of life's edges
Stopping us from the scurry hurry of day to day
A snow day; a now day
A day off from school
Hooray!
Until the thaw.
Nor world wide wrestling
Just winter white wonderland
With all its dazzling glory and hush
Crisp cold softening of life's edges
Stopping us from the scurry hurry of day to day
A snow day; a now day
A day off from school
Hooray!
Until the thaw.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)