For the past several weeks I have been very fortunate to be working part-time at our local nursery. Per colleagues I hear I am in the prized section called WIP also known as Work in Progress. I have to agree with them. I get to help plant all the hanging baskets, the flower bowls and all special orders for their commercial customers. It is actually a dream come true to be playing in the soil, the sweet aroma of the flowers and the color filled greenhouse.
It is amazing to be surrounded by living, breathing plants after a long winter. The winter this year has been very long for so many in the US. In this zone planting is not advisable until after Mother’s Day which may even prove to be to early for 2014 with snow once again forecasted.
With all the beauty and fun I am having there is one item that continues to plague me. My lower back is having a dialogue all its own. I am not sure if it is jealous of all the attention the plants are receiving or if it has decided to just be contrary. I receive great sympathy from my planting buddies even at 19 their backs are behaving the same. This knowledge is a huge relief.
The stretching, core work, heated rice pads, ibuprofen, and words of love have not made much of a difference. It must be that my back needs to be heard. Suppressing a single syllable word has become taxing. I have decided if I recognized the Ouch in my back perhaps it would cease. Ouch, Ouch, Ouch!
Phew! After the last two posts it is kind of Nice to relax and not go so …. deep! Seriously what is up with the word nice?
We were told “Be nice” as we first ventured off to meet other toddlers, as we interacted with our siblings, and as we strode over to confront our first conflict. “Be nice now.” We say it to our dogs when they meet another dog on leash. A soft calming, ‘be nice’ as we tighten the grip on their leash.
Somehow we knew how to be nice. I don’t recall stopping in mid-stride to ask, “What’s be nice?” I do remember thinking, “hell no I am not going to be nice, they’re going to get it for sure!” and then I was nice. Somehow by the time I met them face to face, I saw something, felt something that told me to ‘be nice’ deeper inside than the words my parents spoke.
Do not get me wrong there were plenty of times when ‘be nice’ wasn’t uttered or heard before the conflict. Although there was ‘well do what you think is best’ and you ended up being nice. Being the diplomat, finding the compromise, seeing with different eyes and sensing something deeper about the person that made ‘be nice’ the only solution.
Yet when we describe an object as Nice it is just so-so. Nice isn’t a demonstrative descriptive adjective. It is like milk toast; warm but soggy.
So if that is the case how is it when being Nice we can alter someone’s life and even ours? How is that when we were asked to ‘be nice’ as toddlers we instinctually what that meant and how to act? Maybe it is a four-letter milk toasty word these days but it is so very powerful.
Today take one moment, one insignificant moment and Be Nice …. you just might be surprised what happens.
It seems that in times of loss we are not allowed to sit for long. Within a short time life starts to pull us forward requiring us to make decisions of movement. There is a need to fight against this request. It is almost imperative. Giving into the forward movement too quickly removes opportunities that will come slamming back. Rushing headlong back into life can negate all that has been lost. Refusing to move back into life can reward the insanity of denial. It is a very delicate balance.
We are gifted with gems, perks if you will, to support us in hitting the right moment to move into the fray of life. We are not lost forever. Signs and maps are present. They often must be dusted off or discovered by seeming accident but they are none-the-less there for the asking.
What are some of these gems, signs, or maps? They are our memories. The memory of the first kiss, long overdue birth, the blue ribbon or first home. Those times of laughter, joy and sorrow. The first argument although filled with confusing signals is still a memory and useful in our forward journey. The burnt dinner, experienced as embarrassment, fills your heart with laughter recalling the gulped mouthful. In the first moments memories almost seem painful but they are opportunities for growth. They heal your heart when it is broken. They give you permission to release the anger. They remind you of the gift of life and its call to return. They help you to release the attached identity. They remind you that all is not lost. They tell you, if you care to listen, what is precious, valuable and rebuilding.
Memories were never meant for lingering in the past. They were meant to be a map to discovering you and the value of your life. If you look closely you can see there are not traps or handcuffs built into memories. They are of our own making. Look closely, you will see what I mean. Memories give us permission to move on. They actually open the door to moving on. The key is, if we let them speak their purpose and welcome their wisdom, moving back into life is refreshing. The freshness of a new discovered aspect of you blossoms in a forward motion. Watch Nature. It doesn’t move backwards in its memory of growth. It strikes out brave knowing and trusting the map of its memory.
All life moves forward. It pauses, reflects, grows, bursts, and then dies to return again. We seldom give permission to the one facing loss whether it is a life of a loved one, job, position, or sock to move through the natural rhythm of life. Pushing before it is spring kills the first blooms. While staying too long in the cave molds life. Allowing the natural flow, nurturing the tiny buds, quenching the thirst ensures life returns to bloom again.
Life doesn’t just happen. It is created. What do you want to create after the storm? Can you use your memories to guide you to your next deeper journey in life? Are you willing to move from the cave heeding the call of your battered heart? Are you willing to allow your memories to soften the jagged edges trusting the openness of your bruised heart to welcome moving on into a stronger brilliant life?
I took the chance. I know there is a brilliance to my life that flows nourishing my jagged heart reminding me that love comes always. My memories have never faded. They are refreshed by my willingness to embrace life and live again.
No loss is too great to give up our memories and not move on.
I was originally going to use Long for my word and then I thought of Loss, Love, and Link. Deciding to use them all around a central idea below is my musing on the long loss of love and the link to life.
“I wasn’t always the best mother to you. I know that and I am sorry.” I said late that night in early May. “I am so very proud of you. I love you and long for you to find the life you want.” With tears in my eyes hidden by my downward glance I spoke strong yet gently to my 21 year old son. His response of forgiveness, strength, and determination made my heart leap with joy.
Our lives had not always been easy. I was a single mom for his first 18 months, then marriage to his father for 18 months, a stint of single motherhood for 5 years, another marriage of 13 years dotted with emotional abuse and neglect, and finally another 5 years of single family hood that brought us both to a deeper understanding of the love between us. My son having just returned from 18 months in the Army joined me in running & building a B&B in Montana and embarking on a new life. Grateful for having woken to the understanding of who we were and what life truly held for everyone we worked side by side.
In a short 8 months my world would disappear.
The call came around 10am that warm May morning. Deep down inside I knew something definitive was meant by the man’s message of “Your son and his friend have been in an accident. They have been taken to the hospital in town.” Here was a stranger delivering words no one ever wants to hear. I watched my life merge into a muddy pace as I called out to my business partner to take me to the hospital 15 minutes away in town. The ache slowly edged its way past the fear settling my mind and bringing a surreal clarity as we drove the miles. In the distance I glimpsed flashing lights gasping for air I steeled myself as the knowingness from earlier inched closer to my consciousness. Coming upon the accident I leapt from the van calling to the Universe, “Please not my son, P-L-E-A-S-E! The trooper turned jockeying his indecision to stop me as a fleeting moment of human love lingered on his face only to be replaced by the robotic role he had been called to play. My heart shattered. The essence of love dive bombed past any recognition of my life leaving me numb and lost.
Fifteen years is a long time to find your way back by some estimates. The first week after my son’s death I determined and gave myself permission to take as Long as I needed to heal from the Loss of the Love of my son and find a new way to Link myself to Life.
To give myself permission to explore, heal, build and discover a deeper understanding of life and love was the most courageous gift I could have every imagined. It wasn’t always easy. Many days and nights I had to deal with all my guilt. My anger at the world, myself, my son was given permission to have its turn at the podium. Time spent realizing that no one could help me heal through this except myself gave me a deeper understanding of life. In those years after his death, I discovered how truly precious were my friends and family. Mostly I began to embody how through tragedy and joy we find ourselves and what we think we have lost is still present deep within. Nothing can truly be lost but sometimes it takes us a long time to realize this truth.
Life is linked to love through loss and the long, deep willingness to feel everything. Every moment holds love & life in a delicate balance waiting for us to open our eyes and see, feel, hear its call. You don’t have to experience a loss such as mine to know love and life. You only need to be open. Be willing to allow those times of loss to caress you and bring you to a new link, a deeper link to a life and love still waiting.
It is finally early spring! What was the first outside activity we all had great fun with after a long winter?
How often do we allow our child-like innocence expression? Think of someone you admire and marvel do they relish their innocence? Allowing themselves to soar through life with abandonment to the simple joys present daily? Even with our children are we allowing them time to express delight at all the stages of their life? Are we pushing them too hard to success early? Can they make a kite from scratch? Can you? The simple art of kite making and flying is the ability to use our imagination. Creating joy through the perfection of artistic freedom. It isn’t about creating a perfect kite. No, it is about creating through expression of self. When was the last time you made something very simple from scratch?
Kites remind us of freedom and delight. Today seeing kites is rare. Why? Advancement does not replace spontaneity, joy, childhood, and delightful expression in freedom. A very simple life brings deep joy, healing, and wisdom.
So often we find ourselves at the edge, sometimes almost daily, to our world and wondering whether to jump or not. What if, for just this posting our choices were far more than just jump, would you consider other options?
Imagine if you will wandering towards the point of decision and what appears to you is the only option of jumping. Taking that leap, plugging your nose and jumping into the vast deep expanse of the unknown becomes a terrifying decision. Perhaps you have jumped so many times before that it isn’t terrifying but none-the-less a bit of fear appears on the horizon and a decision must be made.
Now imagine as you walk to the edge standing beside you is another you. They turn and wink at you pull out a long expansive bridge, place it across the chasm in front of you and walk across leaving you standing there. As you gape at them in disbelief, another you walks up, smiles, turns to their right and walks off. Now you are completely boggled at the scenes appearing before you, forgetting why you are standing here, scratching your head trying your best to make sense of this all and yep, you guessed it, another you appears.
Being brave you venture to speak to the aspect of you in hopes of gleaning where they have come from only to find that you are way to busy to stop and chat. You toss a lasso to the other side and pull the chasm close to you and step across.
Falling to your seat after this last meeting of self your mind spins with no explanation appearing. This can’t possibly be happening. Who are all these You’s and why so many options?
Parallel realities exist and are easily accessible. There isn’t just one option to all our decisions and yes there isn’t just one Right option to our decisions. Philosophers, poets, and writers have all spoken about alternate and parallel realities; Alice in Wonderland, The Matrix, The String Theory, shamans, and Plato to name a few.
The next time you are standing at the edge deciding to jump, pause, sit down, look to your left, look to your right and see who is standing beside you, pour a cup and ask what they think is an option. You might be surprised at all your options. Take the leap and Jump!
The poor letter I takes a beating every time we think we need to fix ourselves. Why do we do that? Isn’t there something good about I?
Apart from all the self indulgent, narcissistic crap that we see each day, let’s for a moment really concentrate on I. There is a way to reflect and focus on ourselves without becoming a true drain on our souls and society.
For one minute focus on what I has to offer the world. Could your love of self expression in nature bring a deep fulfilling quality to the world and help it to heal? Could your ability to sit and see your I as it truly is be beneficial to someone?
We think now that to be reflective and caring of ourselves is dangerous and arrogant. So many times that reflection is stopped because our refusal to care for self is blocked. Narcissistic behavior showing up in the world is only a barometer to help us measure. Is our self care expressing itself at the detriment of others? Actually if you are being narcissistic your would not even reflect on how your are showing up to the world… you would show up louder and not care.
Viewing your I as a loving, nurturing part of a valued society will bring forth a new caring world. Take care of your I. Give it love and a place to contribute to the world through self expression. Help the world see their I‘s as valuable.
hone
hōn/Submit
verb
verb: hone; 3rd person present: hones; past tense: honed; past participle: honed; gerund or present participle: honing
1.
sharpen with a whetstone.
synonyms: sharpen, whet, strop, grind, file; More
antonyms: blunt, dull make sharper or more focused or efficient. “their appetites were honed by fresh air and exercise”
In our life we aspire to hone our professions, family, self and the world. It is a constant pull on us.
What if…. we ….
We all have talents and abilities that are second nature to us. If you were to sit down and describe how you are able to accomplish this ability could you define it in fine detail? Upon first discovery of our natural gifts, we are delighted to discover something within us that doesn’t need fine tuning. We relish this ability. We begin to rely upon it to help stave off those moments when we think we are not that talented. These natural abilities carry us through life leaving open an understanding that we are not completely flawed. It is rare that we actually examine these abilities. It is also uncommon for us to realize how they protect and nourish us.
Through the course of our life we naturally hone these talents. We don’t stop and concentrate on sharpening them. All of it takes place quite naturally. The ultimate honing of these talents are when we pause long enough to recognize them as a teaching tool.
How about today setting aside some time to reflect upon your natural talents. Ask to see how you advanced from the use of the talent as a child to now. Is there a hint of honing by allowance? Or perhaps acceptance or confidence? What about honing from a deeper understanding of knowing without explanation? How can this natural talent of yours help you in honing other areas?
“Suddenly as I round the bend it is in sight, the gate, finally I can feel home.”
How often do we seek the sign that we are home, safe, troubles released, soon to be fed, home? What does the gate beckon for us? Is it a sense of safety from the world? Does it allow the world just in but not completely meeting us at the door?
Gates are stoic, inviting, or menacing fixtures to our world. The gate is the original welcome to our personal space. It allows for a hint of invite without allowing a take over. Gates keep you safe while allowing freedom of movement and the deep final safety of the door. The gate carries both feminine or masculine energy. Its femininity allows for a touch of compassion and beauty. Hinting that perhaps there is even more beauty just beyond your reach. Masculine gates admonish you to ask permission first then enter. It commands you to present your best. The inner child of gate entices you to whimsical play while his older sibling requires your Sunday best.
Gates are more expansive than a door. They gift the world with a hint of you while creating the mood for the final destination. Gates are versatile. While originally created to keep the world a safe distance from you they can also keep you away from the world and its splendors. They carry a message out to the world of what lies deeper either beckoning or repelling. At night they stand as stewards to your protection, daring anyone to come closer, always giving the alert with a distinct sound.
So what does your gate keep in or out? What does it say about your? Is it in need of compassion and care?
Our lives are filled with firsts; love, home run, jobs, ticket, heartbreak, etc. They come and go leaving memories in their wake. We share them with friends and family and sometimes we keep them hidden. Our first speeding ticket can often find itself buried deep in our pocket or purse. Constantly checking to make sure it is still there and not leaping out to show anyone else, we peek often at it hoping for a miracle. Our first F or bad report card receives the same treatment as our first speeding ticket. Somehow our first love or first home run receives a very different response. Screaming from the roof top, dancing in the street, sharing those moments with everyone we meet friend or stranger is not overlooked.
Why does one receive the spotlight while the other event is sent to the dungeon? Who decides which event gets celebrated? Why is one considered shameful?
Not to condone actions that may cause harm to another – first DUI, robbery, hurtful purpose action etc. but let’s look at the first F or bad report card and the first speeding ticket. Are they really shameful events? Are they really occasions to be hidden and despised? A speeding ticket of 5 miles over down a busy street not endangering another isn’t necessarily something to be ashamed of or used to create guilt. It is only an action that indicates a need to pause and review for a better solution. The first F can indicate a need to receive extra help. It can also indicate a reluctance to focus because of a personality conflict, distractions or other need.
Life will always be full of firsts even at 95. It is designed that way. Rather than create guilt from your first find a reason to celebrate. The first speeding ticket is a celebration of stepping over the line and learning the reason while there are some rules of protecting compliance. It is also a first of understanding how to fit within a group and protect it. A first F helps us to understand humility, compassion and courage to ask for help.
What First have you allowed to create guilt? Can you find a reason to celebrate?
soul traveler * teri 