Where Reality Happens

“Time has a way,” I sometimes tell my friends, “of doing things in the right order.”

That’s not always an apparent fact, nor is it always easy to accept. But if you look back at your life, you’re likely to discover that decisions you made in the past put you exactly where you needed to be a couple years farther down the road.

Everything that happens is for our enrichment in one way or another. Everything leads us to the fuller knowledge of ourselves that only experience can bring. Understanding that lets us relax a little. It lets us settle more fully into the present and to appreciate whatever is unfolding in our lives right now.

I’ve been thinking about time this week, as summer morphs into fall. After the long green days of warmth and light, I’m eager for a nip in the morning air and for the blaze of autumn’s crimsons and golds. But while I’m enjoying the delicious feeling of anticipation, I’ve been reminding myself not to let it so overpower me that I miss what is happening right now. It’s as easy to get lost in anticipation as it is to get lost in reliving the past.

It’s fine to savor sweet memories from the past, to anticipate the joys the future may bring, to dream and plan for the way we would like our lives to unfold. These, too, are enriching parts of our experience. But it’s right now where our real living takes place.

Right now, after all, is where our power is. It’s the only moment in time when we can act, and feel, and love. It’s the only moment in which our senses are alive, where sound and sight and taste and touch are real.

The present is a refuge, too, from the pain of the past and the error of dread. Right here, right now, we’re okay. We’re alive and breathing. Right now, we can choose. We can choose to be here, to notice how we are —and that we are. We can choose where we will direct our attention and how we want to respond to whatever life is presenting to us right now. And it’s in the choosing that we create the quality of our lives.

As for me, I’ll choose openness and joy. I’ll feel the tingle of anticipation that September’s winds bring. I’ll revel in the winds themselves, and in the fragrances they carry, and in the bold and joyous colors of the leaves that ride them.

Time has a way of doing things in the right order. Trust tomorrow to to be tomorrow, and let the past rest in the place where days gather at their close. Do that and you are free to make today a day of genuine happiness and peace.

Warmly,
Susan

Petal by Petal

Petal by petal, life unfolds,
a mystery, unfathomable, its beginnings
unknown, its destination the source
of countless words and whisperings
swept across the centuries. Choose
what your heart sings as your guide,
for it knows truths beyond what words
can tell. Trust what feels most loving.
The moments are here for your experiencing.
Drink of their nourishment deeply
and with joy, opening yourself
petal by wondrous petal.

Early Signs of Autumn

The first leaves color and fall.
The light comes later and fades
all too soon. But in the heap
of wild foliage at the roadside
pale purple asters begin
their autumn dance. And oh,
the luscious fragrance
in the air!

Shine Out Your Light

Let your eyes see beauty.
Hear life’s song. Meet the eyes
of a stranger with a smile.
Dare to sing, if only to yourself.
Allow yourself to savor
the pleasures of the moment,
even though the world
is filled with fear and pain.
Your one courageous act
of joy lessens the weight
of suffering that the world
has to bear. Be bold.
Shine out your light.

Somewhere in the World

Somewhere in the world,
bright flowers are blooming.
Somewhere, the sun is shining down.
Lovers are embracing somewhere and
children are dreaming in their mother’s arms.
Somewhere, great music is playing
and songs are being sung. Someone
is climbing a mountain, someone
is offering prayer. Somewhere,
friends are breaking bread and weaving
memories. Somewhere, butterflies
float and colored birds take wing.
Somewhere stars are glittering
in a velvet sky. And everywhere,
always, the Great Yes unfolds
in waves of limitless love.

Opening Act

As September knows, beginings matter.
(Happily, they come with every breath.)
So she flings flowers on the creek bank,
spikes of purple for valor, yellows for warmth,
lacy white for purity. A breeze blows.
The creek ripples with joy. Her opening act
complete, September dances on,
sure that all her days will be filled
with color and joy and grace.

Finding Peace

It’s not the fact that the sun is shining, or that chocolate is at hand, or that she loves you. You can have all of that and more, and it won’t mean a thing if you’re not at peace in the first place.

The best such things can do for you is to let you relax into the peace that’s already there, and always has been.

Find that, and your inner sun will always be shining, she will love you more deeply than even she knows, and you won’t’ care at all whether the world is made of chocolate or missing it altogether.

Remember? Remember, and let it glow.

Reminders of Grace

Regardless of how things may seem,
regardless of confusion, conflict and pain,
always there is that which is pure
and simple and singing with joy,
that which gives balance
and the assurance of grace.
Go about your day, then, with gladness.
These blossoms are reminders
that you are known and dearly loved.

The Most Important Thing

One night this week I happened on an old interview with Neale David Walsch, author of the popular Conversations with God series. At the time of the interview, Walsch was just out with his fourth book, Awaken the Species, and he was talking about some of the main concepts it covers.

In case you’re not familiar with the Conversations series—or not even vaguely interested in reading what somebody says about God—you may find it intriguing that the first point the voice that Walsch identified as “God” had to make was, “You’ve got me all wrong.”

As Walsch pointed out in the interview, even if you’ve dismissed the idea of the existence of God entirely, if that sentence has even a smidgen of truth to it, it suggests that you may want to question what you do believe about the possibility and nature of a conscious, unimaginably vast and creative Supreme Being.

That suggestion—about questioning beliefs—prompted me to remember one of the most challenging and valuable assignments I was ever given in college. It was the final exam in a course called “American Thought and Language,” which covered significant (and often opposing) ideas that had arisen in the country from the time prior to the Revolution up to the present. The assignment was to write an essay entitled “I Believe,” in which we were to discuss a few of our personal beliefs and give our reasons for holding them.

Every now and then, I assign that essay to myself again, just to uncover the beliefs that are driving me now and to examine them. If you’re up for the challenge, I heartily recommend it. It’s very revealing.

But that’s not the main thought that I brought away from the Walsch interview. The idea that struck me most deeply was one Walsch shared when the host asked him what was the biggest piece of advice he could give people, based on his latest book. Walsch said he would tell people what he was told was the most important thing: “Your life isn’t about you. It has nothing to do with you. It’s about everyone whose life you touch and the way in which you touch it.”

My whole being breathed a sigh of awe over the profound beauty of that thought. Imagine what it would be like if each of us asked, “How can I help? What can I do to make your life easier, more comfortable, more peaceful, more pleasant?” What if we looked for ways we could give encouragement to each other? If we set out to make the environment a healthier more beautiful place? If we listened to each other more? If we looked more into each other’s eyes? If we looked for ways to ease another’s burden or to alleviate some of their stress? If we did our jobs knowing that they were contributing, in however small a way, to the well-being of others and took joy in that?

So that’s the thought I leave with you this week, the message that it’s all about every life you touch and how you touch it.

I wish you the insight to see what’s needed, and the generosity of spirit to give as only you can.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by bingngu93 from Pixabay

Songs of Comfort

Beside the still waters, the wildflowers grow,
one for each living being displaced
by flood or drought or fire. Nodding
in the rain, they whisper songs of comfort,
the strains rising like prayers.
The soil beneath your feet, they say,
is home. And all the air is yours
and the hours. And though we are far away
and mere wildflowers, our essence
flows to you to lend you strength
and to assure you that hands
will come to lift you, and hours
will come to soothe.