Summer Guidelines

Savor it, this season of summer.
Unwind. Stretch out. Be free.
Master the art of mindfulness.
Mimic the openness of flowers.
Exhale all your worries and concerns.
Inhale the beauty and peace.

June’s Last, Sultry Day

On this humid, sweltering day
when the air is so thick that
you can barely keep your balance,
when the world seems to waver
before your very eyes, come find
the wild forget-me-nots rising
from the duckweed at the pond.
Drink in their refreshing grace.
Let their cool hues sooth you
and their dance speak of breezes
come to clear the air, to remind you
of the gifts that June has given,
and gives you now, as she departs
on this, her last, long, sultry day.

Glimpses of Perfection

It’s not just this field of golden flowers,
although this in itself is enough.
It’s the sky in its perfect shade
of summer blue with its mountainous
whipped cream clouds. It’s the way
the tall grasses on the hill billow
in waves like the sea’s with rafts
of pink crownvetch bobbing atop them.

It’s “Anthem” from Jonathan Livingston Seagull
wafting from the car’s speakers as I drive through
Ohio farmland on this quintessential summer day:
“Sanctus, Kyrie; Kryie, Gloria; Gloria, Holy, Holy.”

It’s my heart, brimming with peace and joy
at the miracle of being alive
in this perfect Now, in this perfect Here,
breathing the great Amen.

Resting in Trust

This is the kindness of the Yes,
this serenity spread before you
in a vision of green calm.
Rampant with life,
with burgeoning potential,
dynamic and unceasing,
yet wholly undisturbed,
it rests, in trust, on the flowing
of the endless song.
And thus is becomes
all that it was meant to be.

Song of the Fire Lilies

Suddenly, from the sea of rain-drenched green,
the lilies burst forth, their scarlet petals wide
and blazing with color so intense
that you could not look away.
It was as if the very soul of fire
had taken form during the night,
determined to bring its light to life
in these three, spectacular flowers.
And as you stood there, face to face
with them, they warmed you to your core
and sang a long-forgotten song
that you last heard at the moment
of your birth, and its words were words
of welcome, and its sound was the roaring
of the Yes.

Moving Into Prime Time

I don’t know, of course, how trees feel.
But I have a hunch that, for them,
passing through the summer equinox
is sort of like watching your kids turn 21.
The leaves are no longer babies. Their adolescent
giddiness and blush has deepened to green.
And while they’re not quite fully grown,
they’ve definitely matured enough
to have won your respect.

I imagine the trees—who have, after all,
seen generations of leaves come and go—
get a kick out of watching this batch
dancing its way into summer.
They probably smile proudly at how big
they have grown to be, at how strong they are and supple.
They probably chuckle at the way
they strut a bit on their slim branches,
how they give an little extra flicker
when the breezes pass by. From here, across the pond,
they seem to be feeling just fine. No doubt they feel
that special surge that happens
just as you’re moving into prime time.

A Whole Lot of Shakin’

I really don’t know what’s going on here, on this planet, as much as I collect other’s observations and reports. But everybody feels it: There’s a whole lot of shakin’ goin’ on!

Some folks tell me it’s the great sorting of the wheat from the chaff, a taking-out-the-garbage sort of action. And when it’s done, we’ll all be living in a cleaner, clearer, more peaceful world. Every story I’ve heard on this theme tells it in a different way, with different names for the heroes and common folk, their devils and gods. But the moral seems the same in all of them. “Keep going. There’s a wonderfully happy ending.” I consider that a message of hope.

In the meantime, here we are in the shaking, trying to live our lives with as much sanity we can muster. Some of us are better at it than others. All of us have our good times and bad. It’s okay. It’s not you, it’s the shaking. Personally, when I get out of sorts—as we all do in these high-tension days—I blame it on the planets. It’s as good an excuse as any, and it puts the blame way out there in distant space, instead of on me alone.

I take time to see if I can backtrack and find what triggered my less-than-cheery mood. Where did it start? What does it feel like? Where do I feel it in my body? Does it have a shape, a weight, a motion, a color? Does it have a message for me?

I have one recurring event-reaction that I have wrestled with for years. It’s like having the same plot play out in your life with changing characters and scenery as you go along. But it’s always the same basic story. And it’s an annoying one.

The only way to put a close to it is to figure out where you came upon the first fork in the road and to recognize it when you come to it again. Because you will come to it again. Over and over, until you see that first fork, and take the opportunity to choose a different direction. Instead of reacting to the situation the way you have up until now, you choose to say yes instead of no, or no instead of yes. (And by the way, you can do that gently and with grace.) I’m still working on finding that first fork. But on the other hand, I’m learning a lot of good stuff in my search.

Event-reactions are where that old axiom came from, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and expecting a different result.” And in this crazy-making world of ours, I suspect we all lapse into a less than healthy state of mind from time to time. Fortunately, we’re capable of reset. We’re remarkable beings, you know. So doggoned resilient. We keep getting up, dusting ourselves off, and going on. I admire that about us. We keep getting up.

So that’s my little story for today. If you find yourself out of sorts, blame it on the planets. And meanwhile, do your best to keep your balance, and be kind.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

This Moment is Large

Listen, it’s all a gift. No matter how it feels.
This moment is larger than we imagine
and could not exist as it is but for our part
in it. Our seeing stitches it together.
Our words are notes in its song.
When we move, we move the whole atmosphere.
We breathe air and drink water that has circulated
through countless other bodies before ours.
Our thoughts shape the future and color its days.
It is we who give it meaning and rhyme.
And it all shines back at us, a perfect reflection
in the grand cosmic mirror, of who we are,
each of us, and all of us together.

This Is It, Exactly

Oh Yes! This is it!
This is what we wanted,
what we longed for
all winter long. This
summer day with winds
pushing the tall grass
and giant clouds evoking
memories of childhood,
when we stretched out
on the green fragrance
and found circuses
sailing overhead, when
even the ants were a matter
of utter fascination. Yes!
This is it exactly. The perfect
summer day. Oh, at last.
Oh Yes. Oh Yes. Oh Yes.