This is Life

 

Tomatoes, ripening
on the vine
still life against
a backdrop
of Black-eyed Susan
and summer blue sky

Hummingbird, seeking
nectar from
bright orange flowers...
cricket song
and dog's bark;
children's laughter,
floating on the air.

A hug, a smile,
a hand held
in a moment of
perfect peace;
tears of joy
and sadness.

Sunsets in a
crazy vanilla sky,
water lapping
on shores and
sunlight sparkling
on green-blue waves.

A thousand voices
joined in choir;
a symphony,
a kind word
spoken to ease
a troubled heart.

A face lifted to the sun,
and hands lifted
to the sky in praise.

The Seeds of Change

We are in a period of chaos and disruption, with the future a big unknown.  It can seem scary at times, to be forced out of our comfort zones, to have the fabric of everyday life change as dramatically as it has this year, but new ways of thinking and being always require a disruption of old patterns.

I love to garden, so I’m envisioning this idea in a way that I (and hopefully you) can relate to.  Imagine that I have a landscaping design in my head -- I’m visualizing beautiful flowers or red ripe tomatoes and juicy cucumbers.  In order to start my garden, I have to till up the soil, get rid of the weeds and disrupt what is currently in place. Those weeds, worms, insects and whatever else is in the soil are in a state of extreme chaos; their world has been turned upside down and all around. 

But, after the old has been cleared away, I can plant seeds and begin to grow something new; a lovely garden.

If we apply this analogy to our current national and world situation, we can see that right now, we don’t know what that “something new” will be.  I’m sure we’re all hoping and praying that The Master Gardener has it all under control; that there is a design and a vision that will lead us to global peace and unity.  On a smaller scale, we may just want or need to be able to provide for our families, to function in whatever this changed state will look like.

We may be asking ourselves what our role is now, what we can possibly do to effect positive change, to contribute to whatever this master plan is.

We’ve probably all heard of “The Butterfly Effect”, which is based on scientific “Chaos Theory”.  The main idea is that a minor difference at the start of a process can make a major change as time progresses: a butterfly flapping its wings can have an effect on weather patterns in a different part of the world.  According to chaos theory, changes may appear random and chaotic at first, but if we pay close attention to what is going on, patterns will begin to emerge.   

So, to put this in terms that we can relate to, what we think and do really does matter.  Each prayer, each act of kindness, each positive thought, creates a small ripple effect that may have consequences that we are not even fully aware of. 

We can start to clear away the weeds of fear and self-doubt and start to plant our own seeds of change. As the saying goes, “be the change you want to see in the world”.

Breathe deeply, trust the process and create a positive ripple this morning

.

The Sacred Everyday

 One beautiful early evening last week, my husband, daughter and I sat on our patio bordering the woods, talking, listening to music and singing along, when I experienced that altered perception of reality that I have come to think of as a "God moment".  Suddenly, everything shifted, became infused with a sparkly light and I was intensely aware of the life pulsing behind everything.  The simple joy of the moment became sacred and filled me with peace.  At dinner, as we sat on the deck, I was aware again of the profound beauty of everything: the intensity of the colors of garden flowers, the precise way that the setting sun shone through the arborvitae and infused all with a golden glow, and the luxurious feeling of the breeze on my skin.  

It occurred to me that all these simple moments of everyday life are to be cherished because this is the "kingdom of heaven in the midst of us". Ordinary life is incredibly beautiful if we open our eyes and allow ourselves to be fully present.

I have embraced this truth more fully the past few years, perhaps because I'm growing older and realizing how precious life is.  But I also believe it was my father's parting gift to me.  Yesterday was his birthday and also the anniversary of his death two years ago, so he is on my mind this morning.  For the last couple  years of his life, he lived with us, and, while caring for him was a very challenging experience, it also taught me to slow down, to pause the frantic pace of my life and enter into the moment. 

My dad loved to sit in the shade of our giant locust tree in the front yard and watch the world go by.  He would say to me, "Patti, please stop being so busy and just sit with me".  So I would pull up a chair, enjoy the shade on a hot summer day and listen to his stories as we sipped iced tea.  Sometimes he would just take my hand and tell me what a good daughter I was. Sometimes we would sit in silence and listen to the birds.  Sometimes we would listen to classical music as the afternoon passed and we watched the light change.

The day before my father died, we had a big family party to celebrate his and my husband's birthday.  Most of his grandchildren were there, surrounding him with joy and laughter.   He lit up and clapped his hands when we brought his cake and sang Happy Birthday.  We took group photos of him with all the grandchildren and great grandchildren.  

He was tired that night and fell asleep easily, but woke at 2 am, crying out for someone to come sit with him.  I resisted the urge to express my frustration at being woke out of a sound sleep and assured him that everything was ok.  I sat in silence with him until he was calm and watched him as he closed his eyes for the last time.  In the morning, we thought he was still asleep, but he had passed peacefully in the wee hours.  

I believe that he chose this morning to leave us because his heart was so full of love that he was no longer afraid to die.  He went "gently into that good night and (did not)rage against the dying of the light" but found one infinitely brighter to pass into.

*paraphrase of a Dylan Thomas poem