~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
They stand for nothing,
not for a price or a system,
nor for any particular position,
or concept or creed. They obey
only the law of their being:
Flower freely. And so they show
their colors, and feed the ants and bees,
decorate the roadsides, and dance
in the morning breeze, asking nothing,
simply being, and singing their songs.
And when the stars rise and twinkle
above them, their hearts are filled
with pure joy.
It’s a fun job to begin with, designing flowers for Earth.
You get to play with all the colors of the rainbow,
every little shade and tint. And shapes? Anything
you want, from the simplest to the most complex.
Any size. And you get to add fragrances and leaves, to boot.
Like I said, a fun job. So fun, in fact, that every now and then
those Cosmic Artisans get silly, and infuse their little blossoms
with giggles-come-to-life. Just for laughs. Because, oh,
how they love to see us smile!
When the rain clouds parted, a narrow shaft of sunlight
found the corner of the garden where a solitary iris bloomed,
bronze in color, as if it had purposely come to touch
the flower’s heart. And a wind came, riding on the sunlight,
and the petals of the iris opened to its kiss, exposing
the flower’s secret soul. And the sunlight entered in,
and the iris knew that this moment was the whole reason
for its being—this touch, this love, this light.
I stand in the deep vegetation at the creek’s edge
stunned by the countless shades of green
and by the tangled lushness of it all.
A mere six weeks ago, I was hunting
for the first wild flower, hoping one had poked up
through the still brown and matted grass.
And look now, what the spring has wrought
in what feels like a blink of my awestruck eyes.
God, I love May! How could You write Your Yes
more clearly? How could one see this
and doubt Your being!
Every time I wrote the date today, Mom,
I thought of you and felt a smile that tasted
like warmed honey move across my face.
It was a century and two years ago,
probably on a day as lovely as this one,
that you were born, gifting the world
with a strength and grace all your own.
Now, as I note this anniversary, my heart
swells with gratitude and love for you.
How I feel your arms surrounding me!
How I know, more deeply with every
passing day, how truly beautiful you were!
How indebted and grateful I am for all the gifts
you so generously gave to me, and to all
whose lives you touched with you gentleness
and rare courage. Happy Birthday, Marion May.
I love you, and always will.
I’ve noticed that we all seem to be a bit tense these days. That’s a shame. We miss a lot when we’re all tight, and life is such a big and fascinating show. So I thought I’d share with you two of my favorite ways to release stress, and one for getting more out of whatever is going on. Their effects are temporary, meant to give you a little break and a broadened perspective.
The first one is good for emergency use as well as providing a quick mental refresh any ol’ time. The second one is an easy little exercise that’s almost as good as a nap.
1. Renewed Composure
Take a deep breath. A deep one!
When your lungs are full, close your eyes.
Breath out gently, slowly, as you whisper to yourself
Relax . . .
Let my muscles relax; let them soften.
Let me feel the flow of my breath. (Breathe in whenever you want to.)
Let me straighten my posture and open my eyes.
Note the increase in your composure, and carry on.
Once the part about relaxing your muscles, feeling your breath, and straightening up becomes automatic, you can just say “Relax, 1, 2, 3” if you like.
Repeat as needed/desired.
2. The Ragdoll
Bend forward from the waist (just as far as is comfy) dangling your arms and head toward the floor. Imagine you’re a soft, worn rag doll and let your arms gently swing. When you want, s-l-o-w-l-y stand up, visualizing or feeling how you’re stacking your vertebrae one atop the other until you’re standing straight and tall.
(Sometimes I like to do #1 right after this one.)
Enjoying the Show
This is a trick I discovered a few years back when co-workers often strolled into my office to dump their momentary frustrations and complaints. One of them particularly irritated me. She was nice enough and I liked her, but she was one heck of a chatterer with a thin, high-pitched voice, going on breathlessly while her hands flew through the air, her long, glossy fingernails flashing in the fluorescent light. But she needed a listener, and I got the role.
One day, while she was jabbering away, I asked myself how else I could see her so I could pay attention better. All of a sudden she transformed into a cartoon, like from “The Simpsons” maybe. The room itself looked like a cartoon in my mind. It was all I could do not to laugh. But it brightened my attitude and I found I could listen to her as if I were watching a movie,
I still use that technique to this day. I pretend I’m watching a sit-com or a movie, captivated by what everyone (including me) is saying and doing. I study the other characters’ faces and expressions and empathize with their stories, whether of suffering or joy. I let myself appreciate the drama of the situation, its tragedy, its comedy, its ordinariness, its beauty. Seeing it that way, I’m a step removed from it and get a wider view.
I don’t know if that will work for you. You’ll have to try it. Imagine you’re watching life on a really big screen, with the finest sound and lighting. See what happens. It’s all an experiment you know.
Make yourself a bag of popcorn. Then relax, and enjoy the show.
Wishing you serenity, all the week through.
Warmly,
Susan
Image by Pablo Jimeno from Pixabay
We little humans get our ideas,
make our plans, and then say—
when unseen variables come
into play sending things askew—
“The devil is in the details.”
Then there’s the cosmos,
with its vast panorama
of nebulae and star-spangled
galaxies, one of which we
live in, on a tiny speck circling
one of its thousands of stars,
where life thrives—imagine
that!—and where beauty
finds its way down to the
tiniest of details, and
everything sings the perfection
of the omnipresent Yes.
Beneath it all, beneath her exuberance
and delicious abandon, beneath
her inexhaustible range of hues,
her burgeoning greens, her endless
moods and forms, what I love most
about May is the tender sweetness
of her endless, bountiful gifts.
Regardless of the world’s confusion,
its violence and evil and pain,
on this clear May morning lilacs blossom
and swallowtails, newly emerged
from their dark cocoons, flit in dizzy joy
to sip the nectar.
Here is your reassurance, dear child.
Here is proof of life’s renewal.
Here is proof of grace.
It was yesterday, late in the afternoon.
All day, every fifteen-twenty minutes,
the mother had flown in to feed them.
They chirped loud chirps: Me first!
No! Me! Me next! Don’t forget me!
And then they napped, transforming
their meals into feather and muscle.
Just the day before, I caught one of them
standing on a twig at the nest’s edge,
between naps, bold and fearless as could be.
Today, I didn’t get a chance to see them
until afternoon. With camera in hand
I walked softly through light rain.
They were silent. Must be napping.
But no! They were gone!
I just stood there in the rain, staring,
waiting for my eyes to convince me
of what was plainly the fact. The nest
was empty. They were gone.
So, the chapter closes; the stories go on.
I’ll remember the one about baby robins.