Not in Control

I don’t control the seasons,
but I’m not helpless.
I walk on the ground with care.

I felt lost in sadness and almost a despair these last few days. And then this morning, when I was meditating, this poem came. Not being in control doesn’t mean I’m helpless.

A friend told me how great these times were because it was a chance to practice what we believe. In the midst of all the chaos and negativity, I can choose what I focus on, what I want to embody, how I want to be in the world.

If in this moment I can be fully present…. right action will follow.

I killed two butterflies and a Cardinal

butterflyDriving home through the country, a butterfly flew too close to the car. Sucked in by the car’s momentum, it hit the car and died. Miles down the road it happened again. I hated that I was a part of these fragilenorthern_cardinal_1, beautiful creatures’ demise.

Then, a few days later coming home from a meeting, a Cardinal flew into my windshield. The loud crack let me know it couldn’t have survived.

Stunned, I wondered if these events were connected;  a message from the Universe that I was supposed to understand. That to be alive means that at times we inadvertently kill things? That life is fragile? That I can’t ultimately protect the people and things I care about?

Or, maybe it’s that things just happen; what is, is? The Universe gently letting me know that I’m not always in control of what happens, but I can always choose how I respond to it?

At the end of the day I settle for compassion and a sense of awe at the beauty and fragility of life.   Tomorrow? Who knows.