Friday, March 30, 2012

Yellow Peppers = Black Bears

Whenever I see Arnold, I say...

Beautiful day! 

He always, without fail, replies...

Every day is beautiful.

Some days I want to refute this claim IT IS NOT BEAUTIFUL don't you see what's going on in the world the whole thing's a bloody madhouse but if you stop thinking and just drop down into that sweet heart of yours, 


every day is beautiful.

A week ago we went to a memorial service 
for our fallen friend, Catherine, light in the world. 

My brothers came in from points 
A = Connecticut
B = New York
C = Massachusetts
Dad was with us too.

We drove to a tiny church in the woods and ate a lot of different desserts 
crumb cake
german chocolate cake
corn bread
more cookies
some other thing I wrapped in a napkin and stuffed in my purse

and chatted with people we didn't know like the woman who kept smiling at me until finally ~ 

"You have a very lovely smile," I said.
"Do I know you?" she asked, smiling.

Back at the motel where the Massachusetts brother and his family were staying we pretty much laughed ourselves silly. 

Drank wine that brother, Pete, had brought from his "wine cellar"

And played with the monkeys in the lounge area. 

Nourishing [and very funny]
is the word that keeps rolling off my tongue when I think about our time together.

On the drive home we saw a mama bear and her triplet cubs crossing the road in front of us.

yellow peppers = black bears

Sealing in the day's beautiful-ness.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

A Tiny Lifetime

This moment is a tiny lifetime, 
all in itself, and we have the choice to live it. 

A Wednesday thought courtesy of Lori Deschene ~

Today's practice: enjoy each tiny lifetime.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

A Clear and Simple Sign

Mr. Red, was on a branch next to the old farmhouse. 
I heard the banging as I lay cloud-gazing.

Big clouds, tiny bangs.

bang bang bang or maybe click clock click

It was loud enough and persistent enough to pull me out of my reverie on the grass and turn around. 
I watched Mr. Red jump off the branch towards the windowpane, bang his head, or little beak, and return to the branch.

bang bang click clock pause 
bang bang click clock pause

Red did this a few more times

hopping, LEAPING
hitting the glass
returning to branch

shaking it off
leaping again

until I said Hey,stop doing that. 

You're hurting yourself, really.

I've never been a head-banger, musically-speakingbut am quite intimate with the proverbial wall...

At the sound of my voice, Mr. Red flew off to a lovely open branch across the dirt road, away from the beak-banging pane. Or pain?

A clear and simple sign. 

Thanks, Red.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Late Bloomers

Hi Betsy,

I thought of you on Saturday when I was out in the yard and saw this daffodil getting ready to bloom. I'm not sure if you remember, but one fall day you brought in daffodil bulbs for every one. Well the first spring mine did nothing but produce two very spindly leaves, which did not surprise me. I never seem to have any luck with planting bulbs, our soil does not seem to be kind to them. I was not going to plant it, but felt I should at least give it a chance. Last year it did get a few more spindly leaves, but no flower. This year imagine my surprise when I was walking in the yard with the dogs and saw not only did it have lots more leaves but it also had a bud. Well it bloomed today and I had to share it with you...


This sweet email from Joy (teacher/yoga student) reminded me that things aren't always what they seem and that I need to at least give it a chance, whatever "it" may be, before giving up. Sometimes we don't think we should even bother "planting the bulb" for all sorts of reasons...

note to self: at least give it a chance

late bloomers are full of surprises!

Friday, March 16, 2012

The White Picket Fence

Yesterday I:

was a shark moving through the house

Today I:

1. didn't move a muscle, kept my eyes closed and practiced breathing until 9:30? 

A voice said,

you don't have work today. don't move. be still. do nothing.

2. made tea and got back in bed without...

a. sweeping
b. sponging the counter
c. straightening up my piles of bills and papers on the counter

I did:

take Chewy out for a pee
feed Owen
make tea and toast with a 1/2 banana
check emails
felt guilt over not getting up for Claire.
She had asked me to take her to the bus.
Thankfully, Michael covered bus duty.
And Claire, she'll forgive me. Or not.

Today's meditation is about positive energy.

It's so easy to look around and notice what's wrong. 
(I'm skilled at this.)
It takes practice to see what's right.
Negative thinking empowers the problem. 
It takes us out of harmony.
Negative energy sabotages and destroys.
It has a powerful life of its own.

So does positive energy. Each day, we can ask what's right, 
what's good about other people, our life, our work, our day, our relationships, ourselves, our conduct. Positive energy heals, conducts love, transforms.

I can get the negative thing going. 
It makes the air thick in the house.
It rises up out of fear.  
Somedays, my fear runs really deep.

Today I surrender. 

I don't know exactly what that means but I'm tired trying to 

live the other way, finger in the dike...
Which reminds me of the quote I have about letting go...

Letting go doesn't need to be developed. 
It just needs to be done. 

The same goes for forgiveness and surrender. 
A tough concept for the girl from Queens... 
who is really young Queenie from Wilmington, Delaware
with the white picket fence (true) 
and red brick house with black shutters. 

Safe Queenie.

Monday, March 12, 2012

At Least As Interesting And Miraculous

It's Monday.

I haven't shown up here since Thursday when the baboons were running wild in my head.

I've quieted them, fed them, what do baboons eat?, and since the university is on break and I don't have the means (presently) to fly to France, I took an alternative trip to the Garden State...

New Jersey does not = Paris 

but Paris doesn't have Pearly, dear friend. 

We talk. 
And walk near the pond with the geese.
Tomorrow, the ocean. yes.

I did some yoga and writing with Kobe, the cat.

Two friends called not knowing I was away.
One left a message about locking herself in a bedroom on Sunday because she wasn't fit to be around her family. 
"If I had an uzi," she said.

She feared for their lives. not really, but kinda.

The other one talked about seeing her son jump from a chair and it was a snapshot in her mind, a moment, and then she felt sad because everything changes and we grow up and old, then die. 

I am happy to be away from home 
and find myself really missing my family.

"It's that duality," said my friend with the snapshot moment.

I am sitting on my yoga mat, writing this to you. 
Thinking, this is a ramble and how come you don't do a daily post anymore? What happened? Maybe you're losing readers. You've lost your momentum. 

As if this whole being alive thing is a treadmill that we must keep moving on, if you lose your step or stop paying attention the belt will throw your ass off, maybe you'll hit the wall, crazy, right?

I open the book, Wherever You Go There You Are  
                                    to a random page
                                         and read...


Thinking that your life
is at least as interesting 
and miraculous as the moon or the stars.