The thick green air pumps through my lungs,
seeps into every pore. I give myself to it,
this transfusion of summer, this steamy warmth,
this breeze-born song: Savor. Ripen. Become.

The moments are rich with choices.
And you can’t, his grandfather told him,
do everything first.

This is the scene that greets me as I exit my car,
this small stand of pines. I know they are there;
I feel them before I turn to face them. Sometimes
I have to walk a bit first, before I am ready for the sight
of them. Sometimes I have to walk the upper pond’s
entire circumference, wending my way through the forest
of pines that lines its western bank, before I am calm
and empty enough to absorb their amazing hello.

It matters that you see
and remember because
you are the Keeper, the one
charged to hold this moment
as clearly as you can. Imprint
it indelibly on your mind,
so that one day, when such
things as summer roses
have forever disappeared,
you will be able to tell
how they were real,
and delicate, and how
they let you know
that you, too, were real,
breathing their fragrance,
touched by sweet beauty,
hearing their life-song
singing in your soul.
Look closely, with open
eyes and a welcoming heart.
You are the Keeper.
Remember.

Remember the Land of Let’s Pretend that you visited as a child? All you had to do was turn to your imagination and it would whisk you away to any world at all.

You could be a rock star, a cowboy, a princess, a lion. You could fly through space or gallop across the desert on the bare back of a mighty steed. The stories were endless and oh so very real. And your friends would be there with you, playing right along.

What if you visited Let’s Pretend again? What if you dreamed a magical tomorrow, set a few months, or maybe a couple years or so in the future? What if you painted it with all your fondest dreams and saw them in three dimensions, in living color with a state-of-the-art soundtrack to boot?

Imagine! You had put all your best talents to work, and day after day played your hardest at keeping your goals in mind. Opportunities, resources, ideas and connections materialized as if invisible hands were guiding you on your way. And now, here you were, just where you wanted to be, confident and serene, doing exactly the kind of things your heart most wanted to do. What would it look like? How would it feel? Can you see it? Can you imagine? Do you have the daring to dream such a dream?

When I first learned about the power of imagining an ideal future for myself the focus of my mentors was on career achievement and wealth building. To be honest, neither of those things held any real appeal to me. But the idea that keeping a vision in mind somehow pulled that vision into reality intrigued me. And over the years, my understanding of that concept has broadened and deepened, and the principle I was taught all those years ago has proved itself to be undeniably true.

Hold a vision of how you want to be in the world. Refine it as you go. Out of the blue, luck comes, unfolding its gifts and promises. When you hold to your vision, believing, everything you need to materialize it appears, albeit not always in quite the form or manner you had expected.

What you need may take a far different shape than what you had imagined. We seldom have our true desires well defined when we begin our journey. But something that guides us knows far better than we ourselves what it will take to put our heart’s true dreams together. And in the end, we get more than we dared to wish for, treasures of far more worth.

Along the way you have to keep an open mind and be ready for surprises. Always remember your vision; watch it evolve. And when inspiration comes, be ready to grab it, right now, and to run wherever it points you.

It’s all an act of faith, you know. Just put on a smile and whisper, “I believe. I believe.”

Wishing you a week of most excellent dreams.

Warmly,
Susan

^{Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay}

The grasses lining the roadways are golden-brown now
as if the sun has been toasting their seeds,
and above them mullein rises, its leaves woolly,
its stalks putting forth their first yellow flowers, so delicate
for such a large and stalwart herb. A fine breeze
dances through the trees. carrying the scents of it all,
pushing heaps of clouds across the warm sky,
clearing its blue after a night of rain. And everything
sings life and is reaching for its fullness.

Well, look at that! They don’t sew
children’s mouths shut after all.
That was just a tale told to us
by silly grown-ups as a tease.
What they sew are the holes
in leaves. I caught one today
sizing up the job.

This. This morning green, alive and breathing,
which greets me. This radiant green,
filled with the whispered stories leaves tell
as the day begins, and with hidden birds
who have stories of their own, and with the countless
creatures who claim this space as home—this green,
singing of sun and summer, writing the opening lines
of this new day across my heart, filling me
with the certainty that all is Yes and born of joy.

A friend told me that if
I want to store something
I see in memory, to blink
my eyes, deliberately,
as if my eyelids were
a camera’s shutter. I do
this frequently now and
suppose that’s what
the earth is doing when
she closes her eyelids
at night: remembering,
everything. Just in case
it all should vanish.
I join her. I intend
to carry as much of it
with me as my soul
can hold, as a witness.
Just in case we’re the last ones
ever to be here. You never know.