There in the reflection

I take myself out to the woods. I am looking for possibility. I am looking for clarity and a bit of fresh air.

I find the ice formations on the stream intriguing. I notice the lichen on the rocks is growing in a way that I don't remember. I surmise that it is because the rocks are generally covered with snow and that the winter has been surprisingly warm.

I download my pictures and find myself reflected in the ice. It reminds me that life, consciousness, the universe is a hologram and that we are actually reflected in every bit of our life and life as a whole.

Sometimes it's not an obvious as we might like. Mostly, we don't realize our power in our sense of powerlessness. But we're there, just the same.

Message from the left

Sometime back I read "Homecoming" by John Bradshaw and did the exercise of writing to my "inner child" by using my opposite hand. It had a profound effect on me and accessed a different part of my brain. I have since used that technique to access wisdom that seems to come from beyond me. Here's what emerged yesterday:

When all is lost, go back to basics.
Kiss your husband and children deeply,
Pay your bills; clean your house.
Find a past time you enjoy.
Pray and be grateful for whatever comes your way.

Don't forget to drink water.
Go outside.
Feel the earth under your feet
and breathe deeply.

I continue to get rid of 27 things each day. Yesterday's discards were from my top bureau drawer. Tags from clothing, spent potpourri, vanity handkerchiefs, various odds and end. The cleansing job is not thorough, but there is a little less clutter in the drawer. Today, I sorted through a pile of paper and recycled some 27 pieces. The pile is still there, although smaller.

So when all is lost, keep sorting, keep making room. Keep a practice that keeps you focused on something. Because when you're focused on something, you are focused on something.

Go back to basics: everything is what it is.

A different reflection

One of my main tenets is that all things lost are found. I can only hope that it is true for me, for all of us.

It's not that I'm physically lost, it's that I'm emotionally adrift. It may or may not show to the casual observer, but it's apparent if you look closely into my eyes. It could be the continuing grief of the loss of my younger brother this past fall. Although I think feelings of disconnection has been going on for awhile. Perhaps a lifetime. Perhaps all of our lifetimes.

Maybe we are all becoming aware of it because the human world itself is adrift, floating in some space of unreality, caught in its own manifestation where truth is untruth, and what's good for one is not good for the whole. For in the detail is the whole, a natural hologram that seems, in this moment, to me, to be spiraling downward.

Perhaps it is just darkest before the dawn.

Certainly there are those lucky ones who find some sort of sustenance in the art of daily living, the pleasures of family and the comfort of home. There are even those that are sparked by the challenges that this world adrift offers.

And in the new year there are lots of thoughts of new beginnings and hope. I, myself, harbor the hope that this year will be year of coming together, a time when all of our uniqueness will coalesce into a beautiful symphony that is each and every one of us, revitalized.

So I begin. I'm on Day 2 of getting rid of 27 things, thinking that as I lighten the load, I will lighten myself. Today I discarded unused and half-burnt candles and at least four power supply cords. Lord knows what I will do when I find the appliance or gismo that needs the power supply -- add it to the next 27 things to get rid of, no doubt.

I also am committed to a bit of exercise. While weight is not a problem, my mid-fifties body is in need of some tuning, as is my mind, as is my spirit.

So here's to the journey. To celebrate each day and to connect with myself in a positive manner is my goal. This blog, here, now, is that commitment actualized.

Perhaps you have your own journey that you will share in this space.

Everything has a pattern

There are patterns in everything based on their inherent qualities.

They change and they stay the same.

Mary of the woods

It was there in the woods on the side of a small road that borders the west branch of the Ten Mile River. A small shrine, a Mary figurine. I discovered it when I was driving the back roads of Tusten following Hurricane Irene.

I stop there everyday now and sit, waiting for inspiration, guidance, and a bit of solace. Generally, there is some thought that comes to mind.

Yesterday, it was the paradox, "Something there is nothing but the breath; the breath is everything." It is not lost on me that everything is broken in that shrine: Mary is cracked, the vase has no bottom, the candles, spent and chipped. Much like me. Perhaps like you.

Still, despite the brokenness and perhaps because of it, the shrine is sacred and brings me peace when I sit and listen.

Happy Anniversary

Twenty-five years ago today, my house burned down. I remembered and did the math while listening to a story about a church burning down and a button box lost. Told as part of UULTI (Unitarian Universalist Leadership Training Institute), held in Ocean Grove this past weekend, I think the point of the story was to reveal a truth that historically our institutions have collective treasure and knowledge that we would do well to remember.

Perhaps it was a tale about resilience.

For me, it struck a chord of loss and tears streamed down my cheeks and touched a well of sorrow that I was unaware existed at the core of my being. Perhaps like some are unaware that there is a button box in some church corner somewhere.

This morning, the smoke alarm sound three times.

Funny, no?

There are so many unexplained happenings. Lives change in an instant and, at the same time, imperceptibly, we find ourselves 25 years later thankful for the gifts of the day.

For my grandchildren

I miss you.

I miss you and I think of you everyday when I am in the garden. I snap pictures of the broccoli growing or the cauliflower and I think about how you could watch how my garden grows. I think about how I am happy that I get to watch you grow.

It's summer; and the gardens here in Upstate New York, where I live, grow and grow. I know (because I had the opportunity to live with you when I worked in Tampa General Hospital as a chaplain) that it's too hot in Florida in the summer for gardens, even though I and your dad tried to grow tomatoes.

Tomatoes, here, grow just fine. (Mine are still green and small.)

Here's some pictures from my garden.

My best head of lettuce, ever. It's hard to tell, but this is a very nice head of Romaine lettuce.

I took this picture of a banana pepper because it reminded me of a Pinocchio nose pepper. I think the peppers are going to grow really well and I am happy that this one is yellow. It goes well with the green lettuce.

Here is one of the broccoli; its the fastest one and it will be ready to pick before the others.

Here's another one that's not quite as far along.

Finally, here is an "art shot" of my herbs that I am going to use in the salad with chili rellanos that I am cooking for a party for a friend of mine who is visiting from Texas.

I'm sit here smiling as I picture your faces and hear your voices in my head. Even though I'm far away, it's nice to remember my love for you on this summer evening.

And you know what? It's hot here too!