Category: Summer Serenade

I am a dream collector. I gather your dreams and carry them high into the velvety sky. And there they float, warmed by the sun, charged by the electric sparks of a billion stars, drifting on the cosmic tides.

That’s where the dance begins. Your dreams begin to glide toward other’s dreams, drawn to those that share your heart’s desire. A hope for peace joins with another hope for peace in a shimmering web. A love of invention joins another one. Comfort joins comfort. Healing joins healing. And each dream in the network contributes its views to all the others, keeping its own identity, being enlarged by what the others give. And the whole is a wondrous ballet, and a song.

And just as raindrops fall when the clouds grow full, so do dreams descend back to earth and come true in the life of each dreamer, every one at exactly the right place and time, guided by a wisdom far beyond my own. But it is a downpouring of love, compassionate and joyous. And that is all I need to know.

Hey, pretty petunia, old friend.
It wouldn’t be summer without you, you know.
Why, I remember when I was only three
how you lined the path to the dirt-floored cellar
where Aunt Maybelle kept her wringer washer,
your scent mixing with the fragrance of soap
as she washed clothes, and how kittens played
their games of hide and seek beneath your blooms.
That long you’ve colored my summers,
well over half a century now. And still you’re with me,
smiling outside my kitchen door. I drink in your purple,
share the morning sun, and smile, remembering old friends.

A friend told me that if I see something
that I want to save in my memory,
to blink my eyes at it, deliberately,
as if my eyelids were a camera’s shutter.
It works for me. And when I use it,
I sometimes suppose that maybe
that’s what the earth is doing
when she closes her eyelids at night.
Remembering. Everything.
Just in case, overnight, it disappears.
I join her in her intention, carrying
with me as much as my soul can hold.
Just in case we’re the last ones ever
to visit this most amazing place.
You never know.

After a day of clear and cloudless skies, sunset took us by surprise. And not only us. July herself almost forgot the time of day.

At the very last minute, she whistled for the winds and they blew in a batch of rolling fluff so her chance to paint the evening wouldn’t pass her by. She grabbed deep lavender and shades of gold and hurled them, laughing, against her canvas of clouds. With her broadest brush, she swirled the colors together, heaping them in layers against the blue and glowing sky.

“Good one, July!” we cried, applauding from our porch chairs as we watched the sudden show.

Then, as quickly as she’d brought it, she hurried it away, trading it for a blue that melted into indigo sparkled with fireflies and stars.

We sat there, quietly chatting, feeling the glow long after the of last gold faded away.

Now and then, when the world seems wholly askew,
it’s good to walk where serenity reigns,
where all the pieces effortlessly flow together and make sense.

To walk in such a place is to begin to understand
that this is a hint of the whole and of its nature,
given to remind you that the situation is far larger
than you had at first assumed.

You can tell by the way your heart is at peace here,
as if this is a swatch of your true, spacious home,
as if this is a deeper truth than turmoil tells.
You can tell by the way your trust flows out to meet it.
Somehow, you realize, all is exactly as it is meant to be.
You do not need to understand; that will come in its own time.
For now, simply breathe in this infinite calm,
this limitless reassurance, this perfect, all-loving Yes.

“I like rainy days the best,” an old artist told me. “That’s when the colors shine true.”

I understood what he meant.  The same holds true for people as well.   When the clouds are the thickest and it seems that the stream of troubles will never end, you find out who’s got enough perspective to smile, to reach out with a helping hand, to speak a sincere and encouraging word.

Circumstances are just that, you know – good or bad only because we label them so. To the lily, hours of endless rain are no reason not to dance.

First isn’t always best. Oh, it’s daring
alright, with its thirst for adventure,
and someone must try the waters,
scout the way. But most must fill
the middle, and some stand at the end.
If you’re one of those, the last guys,
don’t envy those who went before,
but thank them. They are, after all,
the scaffolding on which you stand,
affording you the broadest view,
the one that experience alone provides.
Your turn is coming. Meanwhile,
watch and listen. Let the best of what
you see feed you with wisdom and grow
your strength. Then, when the light
signals your time, blossom boldly,
singing your truest song.

I scan the morning’s headlines over coffee.
It’s the usual nightmare of conflict, corruption and crime.
As if I’d swallowed a cup of cement, the news pulls me down,
burying the morning’s hope in its weight.
But then I notice that the sun is shining, and it pulls me
out the door. My eyes see the clear sky, the light
filtering through the summer leaves. My heart , however,
is still heavy with sorrow for us all. “Go to the park,”
a soft voice whispers inside me. “Take a walk,
clear your head.” So I go.

After a while, I wander toward the garden.
And there, perched atop an echinacea,
a tiny creature looking like a winged horse,
its face painted like a circus pony, sits
sipping nectar. “Are you real?” I ask, astonished.
But there is no doubting it. Or the song
that my heart begins to croon. Here,
in this now, is Yes, is beauty. Here,
in this now, reality expands, filled with joy
and waking. And everything else is but dream.

They whisper their little, shy hellos,
surprised to find you smiling
at their starry pastel faces.
As hidden as they are,
visitors are few, except, of course,
for the ants and beetles who come
daily with neighborhood news.
In fact, at first they weren’t quite sure
that you were real, given your enormous size.
But they saw the delight
dancing in your eyes
and felt the heart-warmth
of your smile. And that
quite easily convinced them.
There’s no mistaking love,
and nothing, after all, is
so unquestionably real.

It began when the firmament separated from the waters. It was the first song, carrying all the peace and power that the universe contains, expressing all the love of the Yes and all the joy.

It washed in, and flowed out, and its rhythm has continued to this day. And all creatures everywhere know its sound, whether they have stood on a sea’s shore or not, for it is the breathe of God, and its life and comfort swirls ceaselessly in great currents ‘round the globe, and in sacred rivers in the bodies of all beings who dwell here.

And if you are still, you will hear its secrets rising from your heart, and its song will bring you endless peace.