Scorching temperatures belie summer’s waning in my spot in the Universe. Lazy days recall fond memories of time seeming to stand still yet fly by with a wink and most of all… Continue reading
Most Saturday mornings find me running at the lake near my home. It’s a difficult, 9-mile run with terrain that changes from flat to 30% slopes and back again through scenery that will catch your breath. Parts of the trail are so narrow that a distracted mind is a footfall down steep gorges; you have to mind the three R’s: Roots, Rocks, and Ruts.
And it’s perfect for me…
This is the last run of the week for which the reward is a long tub soak and a day off for yoga on Sunday. It’s here that I cultivate peace; in my mind, my body and my spirit (ok yoga does that too, but not as much as this run). It’s here that I am able to observe the restrictions and obstacles I’ve been facing without fighting or judging and just breathe into it; work to my edge and focus on letting go. In the midst of this challenge I learn to be attentive, patient and focused; this brings me serenity, peace, solace, redemption.
Renewed, I can go out into the world with my perspective reframed, recommitted to my intentions and able to be the charm in other people’s days and an ambassador of peace.
How are you cultivating peace?
…as I fondle the pieces, I find some that have dazzling shapes and make me say, “OoooH, shiny!”
Others are dark and jagged, broken window panes in a vacant old house.
Still others are bland and formless of countless years spent adrift and floundering.
One odd shape sits to the side yet to find its perfect fit.
What a mottled picture of me; out of focus like an impressionist painting in a gilded but aging frame.
I’ve had incredible encounters with people that have been this exquisite fuel seeking to ignite the glowing embers inside of me. Some have sputtered. Others have sparked a blazing inferno of passion and creativity nearly burning me up…
…but everything cools like molten lava, a hard crust atop a fiery river flow.
My HEART, my heart is a mosaic of bits of broken, colored glass; rough and polished stones;shimmery bits of fancy paper; and WORDS, lots of words held together not by a solder of blackened lead nor heavy gray mortar, but by a fine silk thread from a carpet baggers satchel of dreams…
Show up as your authentic self
We get you
Your story is as unique as ours
But you are us and we are you
The same ripple in the pond
We are your tribe
Absent the energy you emit, we’d vibrate differently
We have neither expectations nor demands
Just the same excellence you want for yourself
All that you are willing to give
Falter and we’ll lend the hand you offered
photo credit www.spiritweaves.com
Mythbroakia, a beautiful, fictional other world where myths are unfolded and broken in the most evocative prose and poetry. The extraordinarily talented and industrious Amyth Banerjee is its founder and he has so eloquently chosen me to receive the Beautiful Blogger award, which I humbly and graciously accept. It was a stunning surprise, as my universe has been spinning wildly of late and I’ve not devoted enough time to my blog as my heart would desire…
So, in accepting this award it is my honor to bestow it upon the following seven bloggers, in no particular order, whom I feel have shone their own beauty in this amazing blogosphere:
George Ellington of Toros fame. His exquisite poetry and devotion to his true love, his roots, and his family are utterly inspiring and beautiful.
Madu who pens The Urge to Wander. She shares the most beautiful glimpses of her world travels through gorgeous photography and nuggets of amazing history to accompany her pictorial blog that you likely never read in a history book.
Marcus from Alarmingman. I’m newly acquainted with his blog, but I find his world of Haiku one the most beautiful ways of interpreting the world and as he says, “Often it’s like living inside a Zen parable – somehow the solution to an inscrutable conundrum must be found.”
Subhan Zein who in his own words, “I sculpt the light and slap the thunder. I cuddle the moon and kiss the sun. I am not a prophet who performs miracles. I’m just a man who’s learning to write fiction and poetry”, and he does so in the most elegant and gracious way. Beautiful!
David at http://timeforarethink.net/ who has been chronicling his pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago as “Spanish Stroll”, with beautiful humor and lush photography all for a good cause, Rethink Mental Illness. A beautiful soul!
Kim at http://caffeinatedbydesign.com/ whose passion for coffee and gorgeous graphic design is beautiful!
Now, beautiful bloggers carry forth and nominate your own beautiful bloggers (7 or any number you see fit)…and again my humble gratitude for Amyth and Mythbroakia!
My new home is a unique living arrangement. It’s a four-story, custom home and each level is a completely separate and fully equipped living space. Three families live here (including me). One family occupies the top two stories. Except that I park my car next to theirs in the driveway, I don’t really see or hear from them much. The middle level was recently rented out by a soon-to-be single-dad who has two children (not living with him full-time, but seemingly at their dad’s A LOT). And then there’s my sweet spot at the very bottom and back of the house.
I LOVE my new digs. The peace and serenity of living this close to nature is the reason I chose to live here. And, I’m accustomed to having people living upstairs from me after residing in a condo for 16 years. But that single dad is the most obnoxiously noisy person. I know he doesn’t mean to be and I’ve really had to take a hard look at why this bothers me so much (probably because I get woken out of a dead sleep from heavy shoes dropping over my head at midnight). However, there’s really NO buffer between his floor and my ceiling and he keeps the oddest hours (like moving furniture around at 10PM; seriously dude!). I’ve told him that I can hear EVERYTHING loudly and clearly (including the rendezvous he had the other night) and I’ve asked him (quite kindly I think) to respect lateness of hours, etc. But he seems totally clueless.
Some people lope and bound through their days, clip-clopping like Clydesdales hauling a heavy load. They move loudly through space and time and you can hear them a mile away, even though they aren’t saying a word. And when they do speak, they make no distinction between inside and outside voices; they simply yell what they have to say wherever they are, volleying cannon balls with booming voices.
So in honor of my new neighbor, I found this quite funny poem from Ogden Nash:
Their living room is a bowling alley.
Their bedroom is full of conducted tours.
Their radio is louder than yours.
They celebrate weekends all the week.
When they take a shower, your ceilings leak.
They try to get their parties to mix
By supplying their guest with Pogo sticks,
And when their orgy at last abates,
They go to the bathroom on roller skates.
I might love the people upstairs wondrous
If instead of above us, they just lived under us.
Change is good. It’s inevitable anyway. Life is full of transitions as we journey through one stage to the next and my latest transition to “empty nester” wasn’t the crashing, wrenching upheaval I thought it might be. Continue reading