Susan Minarik – Page 126 – Notes from the Woods

Decorating the Drums

Back on solid ground after climbing down from the elves’ house, the Little Pine and Red Leaf headed for Holly Trail. As they walked along, they could see that the elf children had been hard at work. Every few skips and jumps they saw another decorated drum, each more beautiful than the last. They seemed to stretch in every direction all across the forest floor.

It was a good thing that Mother Elf had reminded them to listen for her children’s whistling. Otherwise, they never would have found them. Their handiwork was everywhere you looked and gave no clue about what direction they had headed.

But since the songbirds were gone now for the winter, there was no mistaking that the sound they heard up ahead was the whistling of the elves

They bounded down the trail and when they turned the bend, sure enough, there were the elves, putting the final touches on yet another gorgeous drum. They shouted to the elves in glee. “Look! Look! Some lunch from your mother!”

Soon the two friends and their elf pals were seated in a circle on the ground, sharing the wintergreen muffins that Mother Elf had sent along. Red Leaf spoke up and asked the elves why they decorated the drums, and who would play them? (This was Red Leaf’s first Festival of Light and he found all of these preparations quite amazing.)

“We decorate them so that when the sun turns to make his northward journey, he will be welcomed by their beauty,” one of the elves said. “And on that day, all the creatures of the forest will rejoice. These drums are for the fairies’ celebrations. They will dance in wondrous troops, dozens to a drum. And all the forest will echo with the sound of their dancing.”

Red Leaf tried to imagine what it would be like to hear ten thousand fairies dancing. But he could not. So much magic would happen on that day! He could hardly wait for it to arrive.

The elves had to get back to work. Countless drums were still waiting for their creative hands. They thanked their friends for the snack and said goodbye.

So the two friends began their walk home. It would be nearly dusk before they got there. The sun was already starting to sink in the northwestern sky. Down Holly Trail they tumbled, the happy sound of whistling in their ears.

A Visit to the Elves’ House

After saying goodbye to Holly, the boys headed to the elves’ house. Maybe they could come out to play.

The climb to reach the house was tricky, perched as it was atop a pile of fallen, moss-covered logs. But that was half the fun.

They were surprised when they finally got there to discover that the front door was closed and the place was so quiet. Usually peals of elfin laughter rolled from a wide-open door.

But when they knocked, the elves’ mother opened the door and greeted them with a happy smile.

“Come in, boys! I’ve just finished baking wintergreen muffins. I’m sure you would enjoy one after your long climb.”

She poured cups of fragrant tea and set out the berry-studded treats for them to enjoy.

After politely thanking her, they asked, “Where are the elves? We thought they might want to come out and play.”

“Oh, there’s no time for play for them right now!” she laughed. “Elves have a lot of work to do to get ready for the Festival of Light.” Today, she said, they were out decorating the drums down by Holly Trail.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’ll make up a bundle of muffins, and you can deliver it to them for a lunchtime surprise. They’ll be easy to find. You know how they whistle when they work.” She piled the muffins in a bright, woven sack and handed it to the boys.

As they climbed back down the mossy slopes, they could hear Mother Elf singing. Everything the elves did, it seemed, they did with laughter and joy.

The Holly Tree

By the time they got to the far end of the lake, the morning sky was milky with clouds and the air was thick with moisture. In the woods, the high branches shivered in the wind, rattling a signal to the woodland’s creatures and birds that a storm was on the way. The two pals didn’t mind. To them, all weather was a marvelous ever-changing show.

“I think we’re going to get some snow,” Red Leaf said as he and his friend skipped across the frosty ground.

“That would be wonderful! I had a great dream last night about snow,” Little Pine said.

They were just rounding the curve of the lake when Holly Tree came into view. They stopped for a moment as the wind blew the strains of her song across the cold waters.

Above her, the boughs of the tall pines whipped in the wind and the hardwoods’ branches clattered as they swayed. But beneath them, Holly stood tall and unshaken, her evergreen branches reaching to the sky. This, after all, was the season of her glory.

From ancient times, the humans had sought her ancestors’ bright leaves and crimson berries to decorate their homes for the Festival of the Light. Her family had served to carry the legends of many tribes from one generation to another.

Some of the legends spoke of man’s suffering and pain, and of redemption, forgiveness and renewal. Some told of elves at play. Some told of humble gifts given and graciously received.

Holly was pleased to represent the peoples’ stories and to play a part in their celebrations. But even more, she was glad to stand in the middle of this magical forest singing to its creatures her glad songs of the steadfastness of the Light and its promise of everlasting life.

“Hi, Holly!” the boys said as they finally stood beneath her bright, scalloped leaves. “That was a wonderful song!”

“Thank you!” she said. “I’m practicing for the Call to Festival Day. I’m so excited that it will soon be here! Where are you boys headed today?”

“We’re going to the elves’ house to see what they’re doing,” Red Leaf said.

“Well, tell them I send my greetings. They’ve been up for hours. I heard their whistles at dawn. They’re such fun-filled, industrious little guys! Just like you two. Have a wonderful day!”

Waking to a Frosty Morning

After his night time visit from the Snow Queen, Little Pine was surprised to discover that the woodland still wore its late autumn garb. Not a snowflake was in sight.

Still, the air was cold and everything around him sparkled with frost. You never knew, when you greeted a December morning, what the day would hold.

When he told his mother about his dream, her eyes sparkled just like the frost. “What a gift!” she said. “How beautiful!”

“But why isn’t there any snow?” Little Pine asked her. She told him that dreams had a timing of their own. Some of them foretold events that might take a while to unfold in our world.

“But it’s a very pretty morning, nonetheless, don’t you think?” she said, as she set his breakfast out for him, “A blue jay stopped by earlier and told me that the whole forest is tingling with anticipation for the Festival. It’s only a few days away now, you know. He said everybody is excited and busy.”

Mother Pine laughed remembering her conversation with the bird. “After you eat, why don’t you get your friend and see what surprises the woodland might have for you today?” she said to Little Pine.

And before the words had left her mouth, Red Leaf appeared on their threshold, his eyes bright and eager for adventure. Off the two pals ran. And Mother Pine smiled and wondered what tales he would bring home with him today.

The Visit of the Snow Queen

Little did the Little Pine know when his mother wished him sweet dreams how sweet those dreams would truly be.

He drifted for a while into deeper and deeper sleep. And then, when they had left all traces of their everyday world behind them, suddenly a vision appeared.

Emerging from a field of white pine boughs and golden light was the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

Her face was kind and filled with love. And although she didn’t speak, he somehow heard her message .

“Hello, sweet child. I am the Snow Queen, come to tell you about the miracle of Light. Soon the glorious sun will begin his northward journey, and on the day he sets out, your world will rejoice. For the sun is Light’s messenger, and he brings to your world new life and new beginnings.

“I create the winter snows to reflect the light he brings. Every snowflake that falls celebrates its joy and peace.

“And all of this—our light, our hope, our promises and joy—are just part of the song of the Great Yes.

“The day of the Light’s return is a new note in that song. And it will find its way into your hearts and sing there, for we are all its children. And we, sweet ones, are dearly, dearly loved.”

And as the last words of her message floated into Little Pine’s understanding, the beautiful Snow Queen faded away, and he sank into deep and dreamless sleep, filled with comfort and joy.

Little Pine and The Festival of Light

Volume I: The Magic of the Light’s Return

Chapter 1 – Before the Holidays

The children had no idea what it all meant. Every year about this time, the grown-ups got really distracted and busy.

“Go play!” the mothers would command in stern voices, as if the children somehow needed to be persuaded.

The children would giggle and dash outside, glad to frolic for the afternoon in the fresh, December air.

“Tag! You’re it!” one would call, and the races would begin.

They played until dusk, being careful to freeze in their tracks if a human ventured past. (It was a primary rule never to ruin the humans’ illusions that you were immobile. It might frighten them very badly to see you racing through the forest..)

When the day’s light faded and they came inside the family’s fold, the grownups were relaxed, their eyes twinkling with secrets. “Did you have a good time?” the fathers would ask.

And the mothers would serve them supper, give them a special kiss, and tuck them in, crooning, “Sweet dreams, little one. Sweet dreams.”

And the children didn’t care whether they understood the grown-ups or not. It was enough that they were so happy.

Let It Shine

Anybody can cry about the things in life they lack. We all have our dreams of greener pastures. But the truth is it’s not tears that turn the barren spots green. It’s the life-giving sunlight of joy that transforms them.

And here is how you make the sun rise in your life, even in the depths of your darkest night: Give thanks!

You’ll know you’re in the darkness of night if you want to tell me that it’s easy for me to say, “give thanks,” if you want to tell me the long, sad list of deprivations you’re suffering, the burdens your bearing, and the injustices with which you contend. I understand. I hear your pain. I see your suffering. Honestly, I do. That’s why I’m here, with this little beam of light, offering to share. I’m a joy-warrior; it’s my job.

So listen. Give this a try. You have nothing to lose.

Find something for which you are grateful. Anything. The smallest thing. Can you see? Can you hear? Can you draw a breath? Can you move at least some part of your body?

Can you think? Can you imagine? Can you dream?

Can you remember a happy moment in your life? Who was with you? What were you doing? Can you remember another time?

Can you remember feeling inspired? Loved? Loving? Being kind? Receiving an act of kindness?

What was the best meal you ever ate? The best music you ever heard? The most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen? The best laugh you ever had?

See? Those are the moments of sunlight. They’re in you, a part of who you are. And when you let your thoughts dwell on them, the intensity of the light grows and illumines more and more of your world. Recognize the goodness in your life. Savor it. Appreciate it. Allow yourself to consider it a treasure, and give thanks that it is yours, and that nothing can take it from you.

The difficulties of the moment are only that. Momentary difficulties. Even if you can see no end to them. If you’re wise, you won’t try. No one knows what the next moment will bring, regardless of life’s seeming direction. Surprises happen. Lucky accidents. Unexpected connections. Fresh ideas. Give thanks for possibilities.

Most of all, give thanks for this very moment. Against all odds, you’re here—a one-of-a-kind human being, drawing breath in an amazing and mysterious world. Plug into it’s light. Give thanks!

Then go about your way, humming that sweet old ditty, “This little light of mine . . . I’m gonna let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine.”

Warmly,
Susan

_{Photo by Alex Hu from Pixabay}

Reminders for Hard Times

It’s okay to cry sometimes. Life comes with pain.
It’s okay to be angry sometimes. Life comes with injustices.
It’s okay to be weary. We all have our share of sleepless nights.
It’s okay to be discouraged and confused. Sometimes the shadows block out the light.

All of us have our points of weakness. Each of us fails sometimes.
Each of us stumbles. Each of us makes mistakes.
It’s okay. It’s part of being human.

Those who truly love you will forgive you.
And you, likewise, will find in your heart the capacity to forgive those you truly love.

That doesn’t mean you condone the wrongs.
It means you create a space for accepting that we all make errors.
Only the continuous choosing of evil deserves our righteous condemnation.
And those who make such choices are, thankfully, few.
Believe in humanity. For the most part, we all have good intentions.
We all want peace and freedom and prosperity for all, however much we may differ in our ideas about the best means to achieve them.

Life is a mystery to us all. We are in this together, for better or worse, learning as we go along.
None of us has all the answers.

Each of us does the best we can. And sometimes our best is glorious.
Sometimes–actually, more often than not–we are strong, and kind, and brave.
We laugh, we dance, we create, we sing. We do our work; we carry our loads.
We strive to be responsible. We are generous and friendly and helpful.
We value truth, and beauty, and goodness, and we seek to let them guide our lives.

Each of has our strengths. Each of us has our talents.
Each of us is willing to do what we can to make things easier and better for each other.
We are inventive. We are curious. We are problem-solvers. We are industrious.
We are willing to learn from each other. We have the splendid audacity to dream.

But for all of that, sometimes we fail. And that’s okay–as long as we rise again and keep trying.

And rise and try we will. Because we are humans—wonderful, resilient humans. And rising is what we do.

Keep the faith.

Warmly,
Susan

^{Photo by Mrexentric from Pixabay.com}

Riding Out the Storms

I was listening to this meteorologist the other day. “Earth is a dynamic planet,” he said. “Everything here is always changing. No other planet is like that.”

His statement underscores one of my personal axioms: You never know when you get up in the morning what the day will bring. And I don’t mean only the weather. Life hurls the unexpected at us all the time.

I think it does that to grow us, to teach us flexibility. When we get too comfortable we sink into a torpor. The “same old, same old” lulls us to sleep. But bring in a surprise, and we’re on full-alert. All our senses open. Our dreaminess vanishes instantly. We quickly take stock of things. We decide how we’re called to respond. Should we laugh? Or should we cry? Should we reach for our sunglasses or boots?

The bigger changes teach us not only flexibility but challenge us to accept and adapt. A friend of mine, when we went on lockdown earlier this year, said she just kept saying to herself, “This is my life now.” I thought that was a wise way to look at things. It allowed her not to fight against the changes, but to look around at what she had to work with and to make the best of it.

A book I read once about making choices for happiness called that kind ability to adapt “recasting.” The author told stories about people who found ways to keep doing the kinds of things that brought them joy even when their circumstances had drastically changed. They learned how to rearrange their lives in a way that let them continue moving toward their dreams—Maybe not the form they had previously envisioned, but in new ways that could express the essence of them nonetheless.

Our culture is in the midst of dramatic changes right now, the surprises coming like thunderbolts. We all need to put our boots on and wade through it, a day or an hour at a time. Until things settle out, we’re called on to be flexible. It’s going to be a challenging winter. We need to be willing to face uncertainty and to say, “This is my life now,” and make the best of it. When things settle—and all storms do pass—we will adapt and find ways to continue moving toward our dreams.

The key is to know what brings us joy, personally and individually, what allows us to be and do what we most want to experience being, what we most want to express. It’s a good time to decide what we most value and to let those priorities serve as our compass and guide.

While we’re in the thick of things, let’s remember that each of us is being deeply touched by the world’s events. However differently we may be impacted or how differently we view what is happening, we’re all sharing in the experience of significant change. As we strive to find balance in our own lives, let’s remember that everybody else is being challenged, too. Let’s carry some extra packets of kindness in our pockets and hand them out along the way. That’s always a good thing to have on hand, rain or shine.

Warmly, with hugs,

Susan

For the Thrill of It

“Buckle your helmets,” they say. “It’s going to be one heck of a ride.”

For some reason, when I heard that my thoughts flashed back to my childhood and the rickety, old, wooden roller coaster at the amusement park half a mile down the beach from where I lived. People loved it, and on still summer nights I could hear their shrieks through my open bedroom window as they plunged down from the top of its highest hill. We kids loved it, too. Some of our dads ran it on weekends and would let us ride for free when its cars went unfilled.

As I remembered it, a line from an old movie came to mind. I don’t recall any more of it but one scene at the end. A grandmother, her son and his kids were leaving to go to an amusement park and the son suggested she might like to take a whirl on the merry-go-round. “Oh,” she said, “that would be fine. But I much prefer the roller coaster. The merry-go-round just goes around and around in the same old circle. But the roller coaster! That’s where the thrills are!”

There’s a big difference, of course, in plunging down a steep hill on a roller coaster and plunging into the seemingly dire circumstances that life sometimes hurls at us. But the essence is still the same. We go on full-alert, holding on for dear life, praying for a safe landing. In the one case, some part of you knows that it’s just a ride, for the fun of it. In the other case, all you know for sure is that things seem pretty dicey and you better pay attention, assess your resources, and look for ways to get safely to more solid ground.

Nevertheless, it’s all an adventure. And the key to handling life’s cliffs and curves is to trust that we have the wherewithal to see each moment for what it is, letting go of the stories and fears that serve only to pollute our perceptions of reality. Our wondrous minds will unfailingly pull from their stores of experience the best answers they have to guide us in any situation. We’re all far more resourceful that we imagine ourselves to be–and stronger.

A tweet I read this week said, “There are so many things I thought I couldn’t manage. And yet here I still am.” We get through all kinds of emergencies, hardships and challenges. It’s not always easy. Sometimes life comes with sorrow. Sometimes life comes with pain.

When you find that you’re discouraged and weary, take this bit of advice from Yale psychologist Laurie Santos. She teaches a wildly popular course on happiness. “The best self-care is kindness to others,” she says. “The best way to be nicer to yourself is to be nicer to others.” And she has the studies to prove that it’s true.

Her wisdom echoes that of one of my favorite teachers, Tara Brach. When you’re hurting, she says, say to yourself, “This is suffering. Everybody suffers. May I be kind.”

It’s been a difficult year for everyone everywhere. And the challenges keep on coming. Stay present. Breathe. And look for goodness; it’s always there, deep inside every moment.

I’ll leave you with another piece of wise advice as we head into the week’s unknown. This one comes from Kurt Vogenaut: “Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.”

Wishing you a week of grace, a grand sense of adventure, and a heart overflowing with love.

Warmly,

Susan