One Earring

One earring lost
Always from a favorite pair
The one “left behind” a tease
Reminding me of what was

There’s always the hope you’ll find it. This one has to be in the house. Or does it? How long have I been walking around with one earring? Does anyone notice? Why is it always my favorite pair? Why does this happen!!!!

Simplistically, maybe the answer is “Hey you, be more careful!”
But maybe, the loss is a reminder that the things you love can disappear at any time.
It’s a reminder to slow down, to really see & enjoy, to pay attention.

Life is precious. Even little things are gifts. May I take the time to enjoy, appreciate, to love…. May I take nothing for granted, even my earings.

After I wrote this blog, I received this from a dear friend:
“No amount of regret changes the past.
No amount of anxiety changes the future.
Any amount of gratitude changes the present.”

Without inner change, there can be no outer change. Without collective change, no change matters.

— Rev. angel Kyodo williams

OUT THE DOOR

Thoughts come and go
What is now is the treasure
Breathe, relax
This moment is sacred

I’ve started so many posts these past months and none of them made it to my website. This year went by at the speed of light. Insights came and then it was on to the next challenge. My past has been slowly moving out the door as I let go of things, old stories, cellular memories.

When I see how deeply some of my beliefs were held, I’ve gained compassion for those who are controlling, hurting others, unaware of who they truly are, of who we truly are. Compassion for those reacting to what scares them, to thoughts and feelings they can’t yet face. I exhale.

Today I’m letting go of “trying” and “Self-doubt”…both block me from staying in the moment, from opening to what’s to come. Again, not making something happen but rather opening to receive. Listening for the next step and taking it. It’s going to be an interesting year.

Waiting by Betsy Terrill

Nobility

“Nobility, in the Buddhist sense, means releasing ourselves from the social constructs that blind us to the truth, positioning ourselves to receive the truth, accept the truth, and learn to live equanimously with the truth.” *

Releasing each thread that binds
leaving less mass, less…
until there is just me and what I see
what my hands feel
the sounds and smells around me.

Less anchored but more connected
Is it enough? Or maybe, is it all there is?

Things in my life are beginning to shift. Four years 5 months after losing Joseph, something is opening up and, somethings are dropping away. I’ve yet to refill my bookcases after moving my office into what was Joseph’s…I step around the many boxes of books in the dining room, not sure what to carry forward. I like the empty shelves. It’s as if they’re waiting for something, as if they are enjoying the space.

Well, if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that I can’t force or rush what wants to happen. And for the first time, I’m at peace with it.

………………..

* “Buddhism as a Path of Trauma Resilience for Anti-Racism Activists,” editors’ introduction to Black & Buddhist: What Buddhism Can Teach Us about Race, Resilience, Transformation and Freedom, ed. Pamela Ayo Yetunde and Cheryl A. Giles (Shambhala: 2020), 2, 3. from Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation, 11/9/21

Turning

I’m turning a corner
What does that mean?
I don’t know

What’s next?
I don’t know

What now?
I trust

For the last few months things have been shifting. How? I can’t tell you. Some of it has been inner work as I release, at a deeper level, some of what I took on as a child and throughout my life that does not serve me. Hurts, self-doubt, fear of being seen, not believing I matter….all resurfacing so I can more consciously say, “I forgive myself and others. I let go. I just am.”

I’m learning to live in liminal space, the time between the ‘what was’ and the ‘next’.
I’m practicing becoming self aware vs self obsessed. Noticing the mental chatter, the mind busy planning, reacting, telling my story yet again. I then consciously breath and focus on doing whatever it is I’m doing. What’s my body feeling? Breath. Really see the carrot I’m cutting or the weeds I’m pulling. Breath. Feel whatever emotion arises but don’t start telling a story about it. Breath. And Life continues to unfold in me and around me.

Simply experiencing what is brings peace. I’m beginning to trust. I pay attention to the little surprises and notice how things work out in ways I couldn’t possibly expect (another blog). I continue to practice.

The Inconsistent Me

I am many things
the contemplative seeking meaning
the nature lover needing grass under my feet
the one who loves to go to museums
the wild bare foot dancer i

I love to be waited on
I’m independent
I’m a loner
I love being with you

I recycle except when I don’t
I don’t kill, except when I do
I don’t poison the earth, much
I reuse, donate, repurpose and trash things

I believe love is the answer
but some people/things irritate me
I’ve past wounds, biases, insecurities
I’m learning to love myself
I am many things

Today I’m just sitting with all that I am. I’m finally getting I’m not going to save the world, at least not today. I’m humbled. Maybe I just need to learn to live in harmony with myself, all of myself. And then refocus …I AM here in this moment. I know what to do in this moment. I am love. There is beauty all around me. The gift is this moment.

A Dark Place

Yesterday
I felt lonely
not alone
but lonely

An aching awareness
of me and empty space
all around me

Do I reach out?
Do I sink into it?
Neither choice
comfortable

Facing yourself is sometimes is hard. [Warning: a rant.] I’m a self declared loner, except I like one-on-one’s. My family is small and out of town. My friends have families they are engaged with. Do I see myself as an imposition if I reach out? I long for someone to reach out to me. Am I not welcoming? Yet, I don’t invite people over. Why? I say I don’t know how to entertain. Maybe I need to get over it, order pizza in for pity’s sake.

Joseph was my love and in so many ways my buffer in life. I guess it’s time to grow. But I don’t know how. Moving out of my comfort zone is moving into the unknown, full of perceived risks, rejection, and….. wait! STOP IT! I know moving into the unknown is also full of potential, new experiences, and the “more” of Life.

Darn it, once again, I’m being called to trust and focus on what’s possible, to let go of the old stories I tell myself. So I’m asking the Universe: “What can be better than this?”

And I wait and I smile…

The Affair Is Over

Living now in slits
hatching into mini nymphs
dropping to burrow into the earth
for the next 17 years.

My love affair with them is ending.
Out of sight, I will forget that they live on.
I’ll forget the wonder of the whole process.
I’ll forget, for the next 17 years.

The cicadas are moving along. For many people it is a relief. No more being startled when one flies at you. No more hearing the crunch of walking on their bodies. No more constant buzzing in the background.

Yet for me, it’s the end of participating in a largely unseen life cycle, one beyond my ability to really comprehend. We humans think we are so “in the know,” so important. Yet life exists, unseen, in all its variations and complexities all around us.

Zookeeper chad said, “What we don’t love, we don’t protect.”* What we can’t see, we can’t love. Or can we?

My prayer: May I learn to love the life I cannot see, the life I don’t understand and even the life I may be uncomfortable with.
May I open my heart and remember with each breath that all life, known and unknown, is sacred.
May I live in gratitude for all the life that is given us: to support us, delight us, puzzle us, and even, scare us at times. Amen.

At Last

All the flying
bumping into things
being screamed at
knocked down by rain…
yet, we kept going.

They mated on my driveway. I’m not sure it was the most romantic setting but then again I don’t think that was one of their criteria. If there was a thought, it was probably more like “Wow, we survived. Let’s get it together.” True, it was less a choice and more of being driven instinctively to come together and propagate. Still, it made me reflect.

I wonder if I’m drawn in some unconscious way to ensure the survival of our human species? Is there some instinct or guidance system operating that hasn’t been distorted by my capacity to think; to focus on “me” (my health, wealth, importance, happiness), on my tribe/class/group? Is our ability to not care about the human species as a whole a flaw or just a developmental step while we consciously figure out that we are all in this together?

What we do today affects others and will affect the life of future generations. The question is, deep down, do we really care? Care enough to really change, be inconvenienced and uncomfortable. To really care what happens half way across the world let alone the other side of the city. Do we, I, care enough?

“More”

“You might notice that some cicadas have shriveled-up or otherwise damaged wings. Most of the time, their wings become damaged during the molting process (ecdysis), specifically while their wings harden (sclerotize). Their wings and body are most vulnerable when they are still soft.”*

Not all cicadas get to fly. They are most vulnerable when they are still soft, sort of like us. They get trampled by those who are stronger and faster. There are obstacles that prevent them from hanging the way they need to for their wings to harden. Sometimes, they are killed by predators, sometimes by those who are just scared and decide to step on them.

Seeing hundreds of cicadas living out their life cycle, driven by some unseen force, has me thinking. Cicadas live their life unaware, blindly competing and crawling over each other, trying to succeed, trying to get a chance to mate. Sometimes they are damaged though no fault of their own. Watching the human race, it can seem that a cicada’s life is way too much like our own. But watching the cicadas also reminds me…and I have hope.

Unlike cicadas, we can move beyond our basic instincts and power needs. We can question what we’ve come to believe about ourselves, others and the world . We can become more: more of who we really are, more self-accepting, more loving, more creative in solving the challenges of the world.

Cicadas may mirror how life too often is for us. However, they can also remind us that “more” is possible. I have hope.

*https://www.cicadamania.com/cicadas/why-do-some-cicadas-have-shriveled-up-or-damaged-wings/

Good Friday

  • “Men are dogs,” he said as he proceeded to tell me I didn’t measure up to all the porn films he’d been watching.
  • “..troops fighting in the restive northern region of Tigray (Ethiopia) are using rape as a weapon of war.” The Week, April 2, 2021
  • “I had to be like a dude to survive…I would really love the opportunity to understand my own femininity in a safe environment. I’ve never had that. ” Sharon Stone from Parade, Sunday March 28-April 4, 2021
  • “…male staffers with the ruling Liberal-National coalition set up a Facebook Messenger group to share photos and videos of sex acts performed inside the Parliament House (Canberra, Australia) The Week, April 2, 1021

I get angry. I rage. My heart breaks. Sometimes I just don’t want to live….not in a world like this.

Who am I as a woman? What is a woman apart from sex, being a mother, daughter, whore, an “it”?…How has the world, lost in sin, defined me? How have I bought in?

“Father forgive them for they know not what they are doing.” Jesus Christ

If Jesus could forgive our ignorance, that of man and woman, can I forgive myself for denying myself, for submitting, for being a “dude” to succeed? Can I forgive the men who play out their conditioned role of domination, sex kings and patriarchy so well?

Good Friday is about love. About Jesus knowing the Divine Truth of who we are, even when we don’t have a clue. This is the first year I’m seeing the crucifixion as hopeful. I can feel my heart soften, unlock, as I ask “What could be better than this world we are currently living in?” And, standing in the midst of this world, have the faith that God might just show me.

Dali’s The Cross

My shift about Good Friday was inspired by A case for Holy Week (no prayers, just this…) by Nadia Bolz-Weber