The afternoon is moist and drenched with the fragrance of lilacs, and low clouds hang in sky. The world feels dreamlike, its colors muted, its birdsong subdued. Rainstorms are coming, but not until nightfall. You can feel their approach in the air. And something else, too, is approaching, but you can’t say what. All you can do is stand there, still, waiting, watching.
From the corner of your eye, you catch a movement, a dark, darting streak and you turn your head to see, there, on the peony leaves, a damsel fly, the year’s first, its tail an iridescent turquoise and blue, its sheer wings black in the day’s low light. It seems a sign somehow, a signal that magic is afoot. Quick! Make a wish! Ask to hold onto this moment forever.
In the late afternoon, a storm moved in. The trees, busy unfolding new leaves, were unafraid, having seen storms before. They knew what to do: Stand strong; bend, unresisting, with the blows. And when the storm has passed, honor what has fallen with your reverence and love, even though you mourn your loss. Then stand, and let the sun warm you. Continue unfolding your leaves.
They stand for nothing, not for a price or a system, nor for any particular position, or concept or creed. They obey only the law of their being: Flower freely. And so they show their colors, and feed the ants and bees, decorate the roadsides, and dance in the morning breeze, asking nothing, simply being, and singing their songs. And when the stars rise and twinkle above them, their hearts are filled with pure joy.
It’s a fun job to begin with, designing flowers for Earth. You get to play with all the colors of the rainbow, every little shade and tint. And shapes? Anything you want, from the simplest to the most complex. Any size. And you get to add fragrances and leaves, to boot. Like I said, a fun job. So fun, in fact, that every now and then those Cosmic Artisans get silly, and infuse their little blossoms with giggles-come-to-life. Just for laughs. Because, oh, how they love to see us smile!
When the rain clouds parted, a narrow shaft of sunlight found the corner of the garden where a solitary iris bloomed, bronze in color, as if it had purposely come to touch the flower’s heart. And a wind came, riding on the sunlight, and the petals of the iris opened to its kiss, exposing the flower’s secret soul. And the sunlight entered in, and the iris knew that this moment was the whole reason for its being—this touch, this love, this light.
I stand in the deep vegetation at the creek’s edge stunned by the countless shades of green and by the tangled lushness of it all. A mere six weeks ago, I was hunting for the first wild flower, hoping one had poked up through the still brown and matted grass. And look now, what the spring has wrought in what feels like a blink of my awestruck eyes. God, I love May! How could You write Your Yes more clearly? How could one see this and doubt Your being!
Every time I wrote the date today, Mom, I thought of you and felt a smile that tasted like warmed honey move across my face. It was a century and two years ago, probably on a day as lovely as this one, that you were born, gifting the world with a strength and grace all your own. Now, as I note this anniversary, my heart swells with gratitude and love for you. How I feel your arms surrounding me! How I know, more deeply with every passing day, how truly beautiful you were! How indebted and grateful I am for all the gifts you so generously gave to me, and to all whose lives you touched with you gentleness and rare courage. Happy Birthday, Marion May. I love you, and always will.
I’ve noticed that we all seem to be a bit tense these days. That’s a shame. We miss a lot when we’re all tight, and life is such a big and fascinating show. So I thought I’d share with you two of my favorite ways to release stress, and one for getting more out of whatever is going on. Their effects are temporary, meant to give you a little break and a broadened perspective.
The first one is good for emergency use as well as providing a quick mental refresh any ol’ time. The second one is an easy little exercise that’s almost as good as a nap.
1. Renewed Composure
Take a deep breath. A deep one! When your lungs are full, close your eyes. Breath out gently, slowly, as you whisper to yourself
Relax . . . Let my muscles relax; let them soften. Let me feel the flow of my breath. (Breathe in whenever you want to.) Let me straighten my posture and open my eyes.
Note the increase in your composure, and carry on.
Once the part about relaxing your muscles, feeling your breath, and straightening up becomes automatic, you can just say “Relax, 1, 2, 3” if you like.
Repeat as needed/desired.
2. The Ragdoll
Bend forward from the waist (just as far as is comfy) dangling your arms and head toward the floor. Imagine you’re a soft, worn rag doll and let your arms gently swing. When you want, s-l-o-w-l-y stand up, visualizing or feeling how you’re stacking your vertebrae one atop the other until you’re standing straight and tall. (Sometimes I like to do #1 right after this one.)
Enjoying the Show
This is a trick I discovered a few years back when co-workers often strolled into my office to dump their momentary frustrations and complaints. One of them particularly irritated me. She was nice enough and I liked her, but she was one heck of a chatterer with a thin, high-pitched voice, going on breathlessly while her hands flew through the air, her long, glossy fingernails flashing in the fluorescent light. But she needed a listener, and I got the role.
One day, while she was jabbering away, I asked myself how else I could see her so I could pay attention better. All of a sudden she transformed into a cartoon, like from “The Simpsons” maybe. The room itself looked like a cartoon in my mind. It was all I could do not to laugh. But it brightened my attitude and I found I could listen to her as if I were watching a movie,
I still use that technique to this day. I pretend I’m watching a sit-com or a movie, captivated by what everyone (including me) is saying and doing. I study the other characters’ faces and expressions and empathize with their stories, whether of suffering or joy. I let myself appreciate the drama of the situation, its tragedy, its comedy, its ordinariness, its beauty. Seeing it that way, I’m a step removed from it and get a wider view.
I don’t know if that will work for you. You’ll have to try it. Imagine you’re watching life on a really big screen, with the finest sound and lighting. See what happens. It’s all an experiment you know.
Make yourself a bag of popcorn. Then relax, and enjoy the show.
We little humans get our ideas, make our plans, and then say— when unseen variables come into play sending things askew— “The devil is in the details.”
Then there’s the cosmos, with its vast panorama of nebulae and star-spangled galaxies, one of which we live in, on a tiny speck circling one of its thousands of stars, where life thrives—imagine that!—and where beauty finds its way down to the tiniest of details, and everything sings the perfection of the omnipresent Yes.
Beneath it all, beneath her exuberance and delicious abandon, beneath her inexhaustible range of hues, her burgeoning greens, her endless moods and forms, what I love most about May is the tender sweetness of her endless, bountiful gifts.
