What Do You Hear?

I missed last week, sorry. I had a post started and just got really sad. It contained thoughts on the current state of being here in this country and it was hurting my heart. This blogging life is interesting in that lessons often freely come forward. Like today. I had no idea what I was going to write about and I felt bad for two reasons. 1) I didn’t have an idea, and 2) the creative spark seemed to be flat and that upset me.

However, the Universe spoke to me when I was quiet and listening to music by Dev Premal and Miten.  (In the Light of Love)  (Be The Light) And it is Sunday—-as the child of a minister I have ingrained religious memories, even though I do not go to church.

The filling of my spiritual well comes from other more personal sources these days. So, on the one hand I do not physically go to church, on the other hand, I carry many of the teachings with me all the time. If I remain open in heart I am given insights that speak to me, and have meaning.

Today I was “given” this quote from Alice Walker:

“In each of us there is a little voice
that knows exactly which way to go.”

I believe if we are internally quiet we are able to hear the Higher Source. Sometimes I receive guidance in dreams, sometimes from Nature, sometimes from synchronicity. (Synchronicity)

So, this being Sunday and all, today’s synchronistic pairing of Alice Walker and The Bible gave me this:

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink,
I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me,
I was sick and you healed me, I was in prison and you came to me……
Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.” 
Matthew 25: 35-40

You may infer that these are related to the current happenings and tone in this country. And it eats me up inside.

I work with preschoolers. At the time of 9-11 the school I worked at was near the airport. I spent the day comforting young children who ran to me in fear every time a plane came in for a landing. I was heart broken. Their fear of planes was all consuming. They were not able to separate things out. All they knew was fear and they were now living in fear.

Fear has many faces. Some we need to look right in the eye. Some fears are less substantial. How do we know which is which? As Alice Walker said: there is a little voice inside of us. If we are able to listen free from the tumult of time and fear of “others” and circumstance, we will discover which way to go.

If we take to heart the words from Matthew, we are reminded what matters most to our spiritual side.

If……..our hearts are open.

So, enough of this for today. Feel free to share your thoughts and ideas.

Enjoy this early summer Sunday. Here the birds are singing and the flowers are blooming. May we all find a quiet place to rest awhile and listen to the spirit voices that speak to us.

 


 

 

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Deep Gratitude

“Every moment presence shows me that I am already home
and I am so deeply grateful for this gift of love.” unknown

quote

Some days bring more contentment than others. I find that the feeling is softer and more  flowing if I am able to be internally still and quiet. In this space I do feel as if I am at home within myself and I become filled up with love.

“Home” is where we can take off the cloak of whatever we wear to get through the day, and we can relax into the stillness that wraps us up in a soft blanket of love. As concerns and worry also relax into this warmth we settle in to our “home”. “Home”  in the sense of the place where we can feel nurtured and safe. The place within us where we let everything fall away so that only the essence of our heart’s contents remain.

In this space of stillness and contentment the ups and downs of the day, the swing of emotions, the voices of doubt, fear, desire and worry come into balance with presence, stillness, gratitude, and “enough”.

Personally, I have to decide to go to this place, to let go of whatever I am holding on to and wallowing in. I have to put my trust in to something I can not even explain.  Sometimes it is difficult to trust the step towards gratitude and contentment because it often feels so elusive and unattainable. In fact, once the footing is made, it is not difficult to pause in the stillness of this place and breath deeply and rest there in the internal stillness. The something that fundamentally believes this moment is enough and full, lacking for nothing. It is difficult some days to be able to get there. It is nested within gratitude. Here I find big and little blessings in life and giving them the room they deserve to be powerful and worthy of being the shift in what I see and how I feel in the moment.

This one moment is what is. The memory I have of something different may be sweet and bring a smile to my face, but when the memory is replaced by a current event: the cat throwing up, the kitchen timer going off, the mailman knocking at the door, it may not even linger as a memory.

So today my Sunday day of rest is begun with a deep exhale and finding some stillness where I am able to reflect on the blessings I am gifted every day.  While there is no brightly wrapped box, the emotions are just about the same. Anticipation, discovery and gratitude.

This isn’t always easy for me, but I do have a very organic feeling that the awareness and effort does make a difference. A few moments of gratitude seem to be able to soften any negative thought or feeling as the perspective changes from what is lacking to what is.

Even within the challenges of recovering from an aneurysm there are places where it is possible to pause and change the perspective. Yes, recovery is hard work, sometimes even challenging.  Yet, it is possible to find the one spot where there is balance, even if it is fleeting. That sweet spot where gratitude tames restlessness and desire. Where the longing for being or doing something different detours to the scenic overlook where the simple act of being in this one spot allows for a wider panoramic view.

We may look back and longingly wish we could return to what we believe to be the most beautiful thing that ever happened to us, but in looking behind us we may miss the most most beautiful thing right in front of us. Maybe? I believe so.

Spring is in the air here in the Northeast. The light is different. The birds are singing more. The deer and other wildlife are scouting for food. I am recovering and experiencing deep gratitude that I am stronger than I know, and have more opportunities to hug those I love so dearly.

Enjoy your Sunday.

 

 

 

They Have Enough Love

A few years back and posted on a previous blog I wrote about an article in Process Theology Here is the link to that entry: What kind of food….

I woke up in the middle of the night last night and starting thinking about what I was going to write about for today’s post. I had been thinking about a letter my son wrote to me during the touch and go days at the beginning of my aneurysm odyssey.

 

As I recuperate there is seemingly endless time to contemplate all kinds of things. At times these thoughts rest softly on remembering and thinking about significant people in my life. People who molded and shaped the pudgy infant and toddler edges into the more defined softer shape of an emerging “adult”. People who guided me, picked me up, looked me in the eye, believed in me. In the above article there is reference to how the people who “fed” me the “food” of their love and care allowed me to grow into the adult person I was to become. I am the product of the “food” I was “fed”.

As I moved into adulthood I married and had children. As my children grew the reality of them moving away from home for college set in. Sharing feelings about this with friends getting ready for the same, we all knew we would miss our children deeply. On occasion one friend or another would express how hard it was, for the “selfish” reason of missing their child, to worry and concern about how their child would fare without the watchful eyes of parents. I would try to express that yes, I would miss them, but I also believed in the young adults who were ready for this part of life. I believed my husband and I had raised our children in ways that had prepared them well for this chapter in their lives. The “selfish sadness” I did have was tempered by excitement for them, confidence in them, and curiosity as to what the future would gift to them.

So here we are, a couple of decades later. Children grown, successfully educated and employed, living their own lives in other cities and towns. Parental pride is an understatement. I am in awe of who these two adults are and what they offer to our world and to others.

Then, world seemingly crashed around us when I experienced a ruptured aneurysm and many things became not only unknown, but also uncertain. My family: husband and children, as well as siblings and extended family, found themselves in the precarious and sometimes dark space of just not knowing how things would play out. Each day became a balancing act……The “unknown” and “hope” performed together in an unsure juggling act. I was nestled in a foggy, drug induced sleep state and remained unaware of the of the goings on and the falling tears.

Months later, here I sit trying to come to terms with the missing months of my life and at the same time experiencing a new sweetness in my life as if I am being wrapped cozily in a soft blanket of grace and love. There were some instances when I felt giddy, as if I was falling in love with my husband and children all over again. As I become aware of time again, and the days turn from weeks to months my family and friends help me continue to process what happened. Tears of joy as well as tears from past fear fall and we take turns wiping each other’s cheeks dry.

My siblings and children ventured back to their lives, friends headed home and everyone just hoped we/I had gotten through the worst of it all and that the days might become softer for us all. Eventually I was cautiously allowed to go home under the protective wings of several therapists and the loving, patient care of my husband.

As everyone’s days slowly became more focused on healing, time allowed us all the chance to process the past weeks and months. Slowly I think we all began to believe I had made it through the toughest part of recovery and began to look forward to continued progress.

A few weeks ago my son emailed me a letter he had written to me when he had become stranded in Pittsburgh and couldn’t get home in time for one of my earliest surgeries. Prognosis was unclear and the uncertainty weighed on him heavily.  His heart felt, emotionally full words, while hard for me to read, have helped me in my coming to terms with some parts of this experience. First and foremost, his words let me know that while he had been in a dark and scary place bordered by walls of uncertainty, fear/worry, those walls were coming down and perhaps there were even some openings that led to a clearer view of the horizon.

Rewind to the link at the beginning and how we are nourished by others in our lives. As my son was explaining what was happening and how sad he was feeling, he wrote : “I keep realizing so much of me is you. Big stuff and small stuff. Good stuff and not-so-good stuff. But I have so much of you in me.” As I read this I of course cried, but at the same time knew the truth of what he wrote, we are made of parts of important people in our lives. In his heart the pain of not being able to be with me, not knowing the outcome of the surgery was almost unbearable, yet he also knew the power of love : ” But dad and Caitlin will be there and they have enough love to make it work. It will work. It has to work. I’m not ready for the alternative.”

They have enough love.

love with all your heart

They did. And here I am. Each day I rest and walk in the embrace of love that was more than enough to carry me through.

It’s very hard to think about all this, but the point I am trying to make is that we all do matter to each other, and we have a responsibility to each other becasue of that. Also, sometimes important lessons and insight come through turbulent times.

a morning offering

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Finding Beauty

“The most liberating thing about beauty is realizing you are the beholder.
This empowers us to find beauty in places others have not dared to look.
Including inside ourselves.”
~~Salma Hayek

It is easy to become bogged down in negativity and disillusionment. Sometimes life becomes overwhelming and we become lost in the ever looping cycle of disappointment, desire, longing, comparison, worry and maybe fear.

Winter is thinking about giving up it’s hold on Nature. It still is in the teasing phase of backing off for a day only to return the next with snow and cold. At these times we grumble through the house commenting on how cold it is. We dig the sweater out the drawer where it had carefully been put to keep safe until next winter. Looking out the window we are struck by how gray and white everything is, longing for color. Bleh. Winter. What is ever good about winter we wonder? We long for spring, sunshine, warmth, blue, green and yellow so we can feel good and cozy and energetic. Ahhhh, to be again in the Light.

Many years ago on a rainy, very cold and bitter Halloween a friend and I were with our children as they made the rounds of the neighborhood. My friend commented on how uncomfortable we all were in the chill of the night. As she spoke we passed under a street light that illuminated a web glistening with frozen crystals. I paused and marveled at the beauty of Nature’s art. My friend laughed as she passed me and wondered how I managed to find something of beauty to marvel at in the cold dreariness of the evening. She ended with “You seem to always find the good and the beautiful in everything.”

I laugh now remembering that night because I do not always remember to see the beauty of the moment. Honestly, sometimes it takes a great deal of effort to push passed all the wallowing. With mindfulness and being present, finding beauty can be some what effortless and always calming. Beauty is everywhere. Beauty helps us relax and find rest, hope and peacefulness.

“Beauty” is a word that has positive connotations. But “beauty” is in the eye of the beholder and we all have different definitions of beauty. My friend from Halloween did not define a sparkling web and a cold wet night as something of beauty. I did see it as such and acknowledged without the night and cold, I would possibly have never seen the beauty there in the light of a street lamp.

For me, the act of being present and mindful, in that situation, allowed me to see the inherent beauty in something separate from the moment in time that was physically unpleasant.

Honestly though, I am not able to do this all the time, but I do try to look for beauty, the goodness in a moment that may initially want to go down a different path. By pausing and taking note of any small, wonderful part of any moment my overall mood changes.

” A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” ~John Keats

The definition of beauty includes: ” gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit.” While the weather was miserable that night, the glittering spider web was visually beautiful and spoke to my spirit as something magically beautiful.

For me this is all just a reminder to pause to be aware of how we are viewing or approaching something during the course of our day. If we meet something with upset, regret, disappointment, hurt, the overall result is a negative feeling. If we pause and sit with whatever it is for just a little bit, perhaps we can find the pearl in amongst the discarded broken shells.

I am definitely working on this daily as I try to find any moment of beauty in the last 8 months recovering from an aneurysm. There was so much that was dark and scary. So many things that made me feel fear, anger, confusion, worry. Yet, with a deep breath and with pausing, I was able to find a few pearls. First there was the proof of love’s strength and courage. I have no doubt the love of my family and friends was key in me being able to surmount the dire possibilities of having an aneurysm rupture. I experienced the power of love. Oh, I most certainly had been aware of the power of love, but this was a new dimension of understanding.

As my body (and mind) heal I see the beauty in the strength of the human body to overcome obstacles. I find great beauty and blessing in having a warm bed each night that embraces my weary body and soul and allows me to sleep and be healed. I understand the beauty and gift of life each and every morning as I am aware that I have opened my eyes to a new day. I experience yet another level of beauty and joy in motherhood as I embrace my children. I look upon my husband and see the beauty of his love and selflessness as he walks side by side with me every single step of the way. I see and feel beauty in the cold of the morning because I feel it. There is beauty literally all around me. Within the act of acknowledging beauty I am becoming healed and whole. I experience gratitude and am humbled by the beautiful, nurturing power of love.

easter blog2

Beauty comes to us all the time in so many ways. It is left to our interpretation of things to define experiences as beautiful or something different. It takes work and is sometimes difficult, but the payout is peace of mind, a full heart, and the promises of possibility, joy and hope.

I also know there are very bad things that happen to people and that beauty hides. This is my story, my walk with beauty. If you are in a dark and lonely place I will hold you gently in love and light.

 

 

 

 

 

After The Rain

Good morning. There is about a 6 inch covering of snow on the ground so no, it is not raining here. The rain in the title refers to difficult times in life. We all know these moments….times when we can feel such intense emotions that we feel as if they are raining down on us and we attempt to seek cover to prevent us from becoming soaked or washed away.

If you have been following this blog you know I am recovering from a ruptured aneurysm.

 

“When after heavy rain the storm clouds disperse, is it not that they’ve wept themselves clear to the end?” ~Ghalib

lotus

Grief is our response to loss. Through grief we can feel the depth of our loss and resulting pain. We process to the degree to which we feel the truth of the pain, from not only loss, but what occasionally feels like betrayal. By allowing and feeling the process of grief we slowly begin to recognize, integrate and eventually accept these truths that come through grief. As we slowly integrate our thoughts and feelings there comes a time when we are ready to let go and the time has come to grieve. We can only let go and go forward if we honor and allow these feelings and to experience grief.

One result of the aneurysm has been the loss of memory. As I slowly came out of a drug induced  twilight of mostly sleep I became aware of the absence of the people I loved dearly. My husband and children, my sister and sweet friends flowed in and out of my hospital room, but where I wondered,were my parents and step mom?

In the course of inquiring about these missing loved ones I was told the three of these loved people had passed on years before. I assume the degree of shock and sorrow I experienced at this was not so different from the first time around. Writing this and recalling that shaking grief, I sigh heavily at the thought of experiencing it twice. How could I not remember my parents dying? Anger and sadness burst out of me. It was easier for me to believe my family standing in front of me were lying than to believe my parents and step mom were gone.

What I know to be true even without recalling the old memories is that I came to a point in time when it was time to let go and to grieve (again). There was absolutely nothing for me to do but to let go of the sorrow and feelings of loss and to grieve.

As I have worked with various therapists and as time has become a natural healer, I have regained some of these memories. I have a deep sense of gratitude in having them once again because, even as the first time, there was such healing and insight as I walked down the path of saying good bye and burying my parents. Yes, the deep, soul wrenching sorrow was there, but in coming to the point where I was able to honor the flood of feelings and emotions, I was then able to move forward.

Right now I feel as if I am going through a similar experience. I experience grief over having lost who I was. The aneurysm has left my body and my mind different, changed. Strength, stamina and coordination are off. Memory skills are weak….I live off a calendar so I can remember to take medication, doctors appointments when my children are home and when they are leaving. Because of both I feel dependent and fragile in ways I am not used to feeling. There is a sense of loss, grieving and often confusion.

Sometimes, when I am in the quiet space of just falling asleep or beginning to wake in the morning I understand on a tender, inner level that I can only let go and go forward if I honor and allow these feelings and to grieve, again. By allowing this I also have to allow myself to feel, come to terms with and release my grief about my going through the experience have having an aneurysm and all the associated medical procedures and surgeries with all the varying physical results of pain, discomfort, bruising, tiredness, and loss of independence. Most certainly this a different kind of loss and grief than of loosing a loved one to death, but in many ways I feel I have lost part of myself. I have “lost” the memories of the experiences that molded me to become the person I am, I have lost memories of love and tenderness.

Still, it is time to take in a breath and survey where I am mentally, physically and emotionally and to take the first steps to moving forward.

Some memories are returning. Although they linger behind a soft fog, they are there, peeking out and I hope one day they will walk all the way through the soft curtain of “forgotten”.

To all my family and friends who have walked next to me these past 7 1/2 months I thank you for your love and presence. I hope you will continue to stay by my side and help me regain my physical strength and my emotional health. Memories that we once shared may now be yours alone, and with time and nudging I hope those memories will become shared again.

To the blog followers who are not personal friends or family, thank you for the opportunity for me to share these feelings, thoughts and stories. I know they are an important part of my healing.

“It takes courage to grieve, to honor the pain we carry. We can grieve in tears or in meditative silence, in prayer or in song. In touching the pain of recent and long-held griefs, we come face to face with our genuine human vulnerability, with helplessness and hopelessness. These are the storm clouds of the heart.” Jack Kornfield

“Releasing the grief we carry is a long, tear-filled process. Yet it follows the natural intelligence of the body and heart. Trust it, trust the unfolding. Along with meditation, some of your grief will want to be written, to be cried out, to be sung, to be danced. Let the timeless wisdom within you carry you through grief to an open heart.” Jack Kornfield

 

 

“Becoming The Sanctuary We Seek”

field

I’ve been “away” for awhile. I had a brain aneurysm that ruptured and the result was hospitalization, being kept in a sleep state, surgery, therapies and the still happening recovery. It has been a long and challenging time. As I learn more about all the events and concerns, I feel so deeply for my family and friends and can only imagine the worry and fears they must have endured. All the while lifting me up with their love, presence and care.

I have been home now for several weeks and sit here looking at the material remains of Christmas morning. Christmas morning, as soon as my eyes opened my heart called out “I am here! I get another Christmas with the loves of my life!” I paused a little bit letting that sink in….emotions flooded me. Overwhelming me.

I sat for awhile in the quiet of the early morning, Christmas tree lights the only lights on, glowing softly. A cold, just turning to light, morning. I sat there, looking around, allowing everything to seep into my heart and memory: the cold, the quiet, the lights of the tree, the purring of the cats, the birds fluttering at the feeders, the fire slowly warming the room, my heart beat. I sat there blanketed gratefully in awe of the healing powers of the body, and in the love that carried me through a very difficult event.

Soft sounds of awakening began in other parts of the house. My husband and children were rustling and sleepy faces peered around corners and at the top and bottom of stairs. My heart was so full. This could have been a very different story. I caught myself holding my breath at the thought of a different scenario.

As I have been healing I have been reading, maybe even searching for some small morsel of coming to terms with each new day. Days that are filled with therapists, canes and walkers, discomfort, pain, medication, worry, uncertainty, doctors and tests. I think I was looking for answers. Answers to the question “Why me? Why now?” and “When will I be healed and whole again?”. There are also the very strong, very emotional thoughts of “I hate this.” The therapies were and continue to be very challenging and sometimes a little painful. I mourned so deeply all the things that were now either impossible for me to do, or very difficult to do. There was no other option: this was the path I was to travel now. Thankfully I was not traveling alone. Husband, children, co-workers, siblings, friends all walked next to me, protecting, guiding, literally physically holding me up and caring for me. While they held my hand and provided support for my wobbling steps, this journey was physically mine alone and it was an alien experience for me. This was new territory. I was feeling so dependent on others for just about everything. Gratitude and humility, even fear,washed over me.

I would sit during the day and think. Think about the past, and take in the present moment and wonder about the future. There were gaping holes in my memory of the past days/weeks and events. Trying to be present in moments that were full of frustration and sorrow, yet feeling them being softened a little by perseverance and the love from others. The future was still very unknown, but it was colored softly with hope in that my left side, which had not been working as a result of the rupture had regained strength and was slowly coming back to working.

And always, the questions and wonderings. Trying to find a way, any way, to make sense of all this. It was hard to offer up “It is what it is.” I needed something more. I so desperately wanted there to be just one person who could scoop me up and make everything okay again. I wanted desperately to just wake up from a bad dream.

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Early days of my hospital stay.

And when I awoke, there I sat, much like today, watching birds at the feeders, rubbing my hand over the bulge on my head where a drain is keeping my brain healthy and safe. The care and support of others, family, doctors, nurses and therapists provide the only road to getting “better”, “Healing”. I am not asleep, there is no bad dream. Still, there is a chasm I continue to almost fall into. This is hard work and the results are not fast enough for me. I have no memory of much of my hospital and rehab stays, so I can’t even compare where I am today physically and mentally, to where I was a few short months ago. There are literally months that have passed that I have no recollection of. No record in my memory of those days and months ever even happening. Poof. Gone.

Yet, here I am. I obviously lived through the days and months I don’t remember.

I was reading a passage by Jack Kornfield, and there was this sentence about one way to approach life and the circumstances and experiences. He says we must find a way for “Becoming the sanctuary we seek.” I read it and I felt a little like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. “There is no place like home, there is no place like home.” I needed to find a way to come home to myself and discover that “I” am the very sanctuary I seek at this time. I am it. Even in my “brokenness” I am what I seek and need. However, I feel like I need a clearer view of the road ahead, and I need to allow time for rest stops to replenish myself.

So, Jack offers these: safe guard a day of rest, create and protect daily time for meditation and prayer, have regular periods of silence, move towards simplicity in life, go out in Nature, go on retreats, ration the news, on occasion place my hand over my heart and take deep breaths. One of my therapists listened intently as I spoke of feeling something akin to anger at how tired I was all the time. He smiled gently and said, “Just listen to your body. It knows what it needs. If you’re tired, sleep. Healing comes through sleep.” Instead of labeling tiredness as a lapse or weakness, I need to find a way to acknowledge this real need for sleep as a means of care-taking the sanctuary that is “me”. And of remembering our heart’s task is here on Earth. Here. Now.

Jack was right. I knew in my heart I was on a challenging path of realization, allowing and honoring the becoming of and being the very sanctuary I was seeking.

There was a different kind of therapy and work that I needed to do. I had to listen to, talk with, and respect that soft voice inside that expresses what “I” needs when “I” am not always aware of it “myself”. So, I work at this. I make a greater effort to express thanks and gratitude towards those who steadfastly uphold me. Let me be clear, without their support I would stumble and fall. I savor the moments of silence I make time to allow and place my hand over my heart and breath deeply, aware of the rise and fall of my chest and the thump-thumping of my heart. Here I find some comfort and peace. I find a place where I can pause and just bask in the light of healing, promise, possibility and gratitude.

At night as I settle under the warm blankets on my bed I talk quietly to myself going over the day. I recall those moments of comfort and peace, giving energy to those moments so I can gently place the more challenging moments and frustrated feelings just to the side as if to say, “I know you’re there, but right now I need for you to just be over here. I am basking in the healing energy of hope and promise, gratitude, being present, love, receiving, and patience. And these are things that will hold me up and carry me forward.”.

I am the very sanctuary I seek. It is time to care-take this sanctuary.

I am stronger than I think. There are numerous people standing with me as support and offering encouragement. They are the pillars of my place of sanctuary. Without them I would fall, my sanctuary would crumble.

ireland bridge

Me just a few short weeks before, in Northern Ireland.

Thank you for reading this. Peace and love to you all.

 

 

 

Erasing the Blackboard

I remember being so excited in elementary school when it was my turn to erase the blackboard at the end of the day. Making all the learning and thinking disappear, almost without a trace. It was rhythmic and calming pushing the felted eraser across the board. Or up and down. Or in big circular swirls. Words and numbers, assignments, messages and mistakes blurred into little specks of powdery chalk. Maybe what was there would be remembered. But maybe not. It was important at the time of writing it on the board. If the teacher used colored chalk it was really important. Or maybe even something to be anticipated with excitement! Whatever was written there was erased at the end of the day and the slate was left clean for a new day and new things.

At the end of the day I often find myself sitting quietly going through everything that my brain held onto during the day. Kind of like looking at that school day filled blackboard. There is much I can easily dismiss, erase. Some of what was written there is a little harder to completely erase. I have to go through those things by steps, gradually sifting through the layers till it can be blown away with by a thought. Some things seem to have been written there with non-erasable chalk. These things can almost be completely erased, but not quite. Just enough shadow writing remains that I can always read exactly what is there.

In the process of my daily attempt to sort through things I have been hanging on to, I feel as if I am becoming lighter, less bogged down. I sort, compartmentalize and throw out millions of little things. Like the process of erasing a school blackboard the background becomes mostly clean, uncluttered, receptive, fresh.

As this happens I make room for the thoughts, feelings, ideas, “things” that do seem important for me to write down and look at again free of the clutter of daily hording of unneeded and unwanted information and emotions.

Gratitude. Appreciation. Thankfulness. Love. Kindness. Compassion. Courage. Resolve……

In Buddhism the most important of these are referred to as the Four Radiant Abodes. These are human qualities that, upon reflection, are sublimely simple. Universal expressions of a heart that is open to the world and all living things. We know them as:

LOVE    COMPASSION    JOY    PEACE

I see these qualities daily in the faces and expressions of young children. We feel it in the embrace of a loved one. We see it in the eyes of others.  Something lights up when we are in the presence of someone who is filled with these qualities. These qualities shine outward from the heart. We see, experience how these things can transform others. And when we are touched by them we are transformed too.

These are a few of the things that are permanently written on my blackboard. But, sometimes, during the day they get written over. Lost. Hidden. Sometimes maybe even forgotten about. I erase the blackboard each day to bring them back into my consciousness in a more prominent light. Hoping not to write over them so much the following day. Because that does happen when frustration or anger surfaces. When disappointment or tiredness takes hold. When there is stress or worry. When things in life make me feel rushed and I become frayed around the edges. When I feel let down or uncared for. Lots of things get written on my blackboard, pushing other things to the background.

In their shadow purpose, love, compassion, joy and peace can cause me to form a lot of attachments to people and things. So equanimity is there along side them in counterbalance. To let some things go. To let the thoughts and emotions pass over me and not so much through me. Caution ever the reminder, equanimity can lead to excessive detachment, so it is held into balance by love, compassion, joy and peace.

With the blackboard erased and the mind at rest we are peaceful and our hearts are open. In this space of equanimity we meet others in peace and we are filled with love. When this love meets others in pain and suffering it transforms into compassion. When this love meets happiness it becomes joy. Equanimity and love, compassion, joy and peace in balance. We become transformed into our highest state of being.

At the end of the day I try to take the time to erase my blackboard and find renewal. The I feel as if I have come home to the dwelling place where I can rest, residing in the abode of immeasurable love, compassion, joy, peace and equanimity.

crazy garden

one garden at my physical home!! 

There is no faith, religion, culture, class or race that owns these qualities. They are in each one of us as human beings. We all carry within us the seeds of love, compassion, joy, peace and equanimity. It is however, up to us to nurture and tend them with understanding, patience, tolerance, acceptance, humility, acceptance, respect…..supporting and caring for their growth.

On my blackboard, the slate of my being, never to be fully erased, are the life driving qualities of love, compassion, joy, peace and equanimity. They are the pillars of the place where I dwell in my heart. Sometimes, the goings on of daily life write over them, obscuring them, dimming their clarity, but they remain the foundation of my human-ness. As I take time to let go of unwanted, unneeded clutter caused by longing, desire, uncertainty, anger, fear, jealousy……so many things, erasing them away, I come face to face with what is the true foundation of who I want to be, who I can be, who I am.

I strive to do this every day. It is a goal. Always a learning process. Always humbling and grounding.