~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
The red-fingered hands of bleeding hearts
reach up for the pearls of rain that scatter
themselves on its baby leaves, the ones
that survived and revived after the days
of deep cold. To them, it’s as if the threat
never happened, as if life itself wasn’t
hanging in the balance. Birth pains;
nothing more, a small price to pay
for the privilege of standing here
in this wondrous world, listening
to birdsong and the splash of falling rain.
The Yes, whose merest spark of thought
creates vast worlds within worlds,
whose living laughter flows endlessly
between and around and within them,
whose joy knows no bounds,
whose forces flow in our blood,
whose light sings in our souls—
that Yes—sits here, right here,
in the midst of this moment in Spring.
(A Happiness Tale I found from 2012. I couldn’t resist sharing it with you.)
One midnight, somewhere near the first full day of spring, the Joy Giant goes walking.
He’s huge, old J.G. Taller than the tallest trees. And his feet are enormous, ‘though he’s lighter than air.
He’s invisible to humans. But dogs can see him, mainly because their hearts are filled with the same kind of happiness as his. Little children can see him, too; but only in their dreams, and he never scares them.
Sometimes he pauses outside the homes where dogs or children live, stoops down and looks in their windows, softly chuckling at their sweetness.
He walks all over the place, just to celebrate spring. You can tell when he’s passed by. Yellow forsythia bloom in his tracks, echoing his laughter.
Now come the rains, the cleansing spring rains,
softening the soil, rousing the waking seeds.
Let the shoots rise. Let the buds release
their leaves and flowers. Let the sun
unfurl its rainbows in the fresh, blue sky.
Now come the rains, the singing rains,
gliding down the tree trunks, pouring
puddles on the streets, filling lakes,
feeding ponds, washing winter’s sleep
from the world’s eyes, and all the while
thundering its life-giving song.
Now come the rains. Give thanks,
and let your heart rise in gladness
for the advent of Spring, for the
cleansing, softening, greening rain,
and for its mighty song.
“Hey!” They shouted in their loud yellow voices.
I had seen them as I whizzed past, but I saw them
as if I’d seen them a hundred times before and not,
as was truly the case, for the very first time this year,
“Hey! You! Hey!” As soon as their call reached me,
I stopped the car, backed up, pulled over and leaped out.
“Hello! Hello!” I sang to them. “You are so beautiful!”
They stood there, beaming, glad someone noticed.
pretending they didn’t care if anyone saw them at all.
But their gladness betrayed them. They wiggled with joy
and proudly posed when I asked to take their picture.
The wonder isn’t so much the way
that forsythia blossoms in spring,
their yellow stars tumbling like clowns
by the hundreds, making something
inside of you smile. It’s that this group
of atoms sees that group as flowers
and that smiles can happen at all.
I was out looking at the stars the other night, and once more I was filled with awe at the realization that our home is but one speck of rock circling one star amidst uncountable stars in one of an unknown number of galaxies. How small we are! And yet, how incredible our minds, to be able to grasp the immensity of it all, to compute the distances, to be capable of wonder and to marvel at its mysteries and order and beauty.
How can we be asleep to that? How can we take it all for granted? Why, when we’re gifted not only with intelligence but with the capacity to love, is our little world beset with such rancor and pain?
You know, there seems to be a trend afoot these days to pit us all against each other, to egg us into taking sides on every conceivable issue. Tensions and conflicts engulf our homes and work places, our neighborhoods and nations. And this, despite the fact that what the overwhelming majority of humans want is simply to get along with each other and to live our lives in harmony and peace.
None of us has the power, individually, to change the course of world events. But we can have an influence in our immediate corners of the world. That’s the place to start. From there, it evolves and spreads, of its own accord. It becomes the ripple that eventually turns the tide,
I heard a suggestion this week that I liked a lot. Instead of getting entrapped in the blame game, it said, focus on seeking solutions. Ask yourself what you can do to make things better and be willing to give your ideas a try.
Sometimes that can mean having to admit you were less than kind, or respectful, or honest. None of us is at our best all the time. We get tired, and crabby, and selfish. It’s part of being human to blame someone else for our lousy states of mind. But our ability to apologize is a part of being human, too.
Sometimes making things better means stretching beyond our comfort zones and trying on less-than-familiar behaviors—holding our tongues when we would normally confront, forgiving hurts, deciding to overlook other’s foibles instead of falling into irritation, looking for things to like in those whose opinions contrast with our own.
What can I do to make things better? That’s the solution-focused question. How can I create more harmony? More understanding? More beauty? More wholesomeness and health? What would be the kind thing to do? The loving thing? How can we work together to fix things?
“Be the peace you want to see in the world” the sage said. Every time you apply it, the world does indeed become a more peaceful place. One act, one person at a time.
Wishing you a week filled with beautiful solutions.
Warmly,
Susan
Image by Rosy / Bad Homburg / Germany from Pixabay
The rain glides down the still bare branches
of the trees, washing them clean for springtime.
The fragrance of spring is in the air now, even though
on days like these, bathed in clouds, the world
looks as much like November as it does late March.
Until you notice the buds bursting open on the trees.
Until you spot the daffodils’ leaves rising from the soil.
Until you notice how this wet, cold air
is brimming with birdsong.
Then you know.
I see you, brave little leaves,
poking up from winter’s survivors
into the late March air even though
the nights still promise more frost.
I understand; I came early, too.
You can only wait so long before
you simply have to make the leap.
Comfort is fine, as far as it goes,
but oh, the irresistible lure
of fresh adventures!
The budding trees are dancing their welcome to Springtime,
bless them, as if this dance could be their last. You never know.
Anything can happen, and for all its brilliance and potential, mankind
has once more pushed this spinning world right to the brink.
Nevertheless, today the sky is blue and sap is rising,
and robins dart in little flocks above the fields. It’s true,
what the poet said about hope. It springs eternal. So
let us dance and may the life within us swell in gladness.
Why are we here at all, if not to give thanks?