Xylophone

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Once upon a time in a world far, far away there lived a tiny xylophone.  His world was filled with many trees and special rocks.  No one spoke and not a sound was made.  Every day he woke and looked up through the trees to the bright blue sky.  He hoped that one day he would find another tiny xylophone just like him.  Days and weeks passed still no one came.  The silence sat heavy upon his ears.

Early one morning a limb fell from the tall oak above him nearly hitting him. Angered by this sudden disruption the rocks gathered around the limb edging closer to tiny Xylo.  Unable to move he tried desperately to make himself  tinier than he could ever remember.  Fearing he would be hurt by the rocks anger he kept very still.  Barely breathing and hoping soon someone would come find him.

Xylophone

Days flowed into nights for Xylo.  He watched closely as the rocks and fallen limb danced in confrontation.  Unable to find an escape from them he decided to settle down and watch.  The daily bickering created smaller lengths of wood from the limb.  There was much chaos that created sounds that both repelled and drew him closer.  Fearing he would be injured in the altercations Xylo hung back.  The rocks continued their assault on the limb breaking more pieces and severing them into smaller pieces.  As night grew dark Xylo fell sleepy, unable to keep his eyes open, sighing he settled into his corner.

The rocks drawing strength from their bravery advanced for a final battle hoping to push the limb completely out of their area.  Xylo exhausted from fear closed his eyes and slept.  The scuffling of the rocks lulled him deeper.  Swaying with the noise he noticed a tiny tingling sound joining the scuffling.  Unable to determine its origin, he slept on swaying to the rhythm of the sounds, heading into dreamland.  He dreamt he was a mighty xylophone tall as the trees above him and solid as the rocks.  He knew his destiny in the dream.  Grasping for anything to make this dream real he determined that no longer would he be frightened by anything that surrounded him.  He determined that when he woke up he would grow to be the best xylophone he could ever imagine and then some.

What dreams are you reluctant to grasp and live?  Go out and exceed your expectations!

X

Wisdom

Wisdom is not learned from a book. Wisdom is revealed by our willingness to crack out of our limitations.

Although I will go on from these two simple sentences this is really all that needs to be written about Wisdom.

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We come into this world with an inordinate amount of wisdom.  Slowly overtime we forget how to access this wisdom.  As we move further into our lives we begin to believe that it is only through learning and experience that our wisdom develops.  We take courses on ancient philosophy in hopes of developing a storage box of knowledge.  This knowledge, we surmise, will bring to us the wisdom necessary to have long, productive, and happy lives.  We add the assumption that receiving an A+ in the course work will ensure the production of enlightened wisdom.  It is important to read and learn about all the aspects of our life.  It is equally important to not rely on just books to develop our wisdom.

The real wisdom we are seeking is deep within us just waiting for the beginning of a crack.  A very simple crack that allows for a glimmer of light to shine into the darkness.  The dark recesses we have been reluctant to peak into out of fear.  These areas don’t hold boogie men or demons.  They hold an ancient and knowing piece of us.  A piece that once accessed brings forth more life.  This life refuels and gifts us.  It doesn’t run out.  It isn’t expensive.  It is rich with an understanding of purpose, calm, and a love that soothes our aches.

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Wisdom comes into us daily.  It is the sunshine that enters our homes nudging us to begin anew.  It is the laughter filled moment.  Even those moments you wished hadn’t come bring wisdom.  A wisdom that nurtures deeper than we are conscious as it works.

It is our reluctance to allow for self guidance that keeps us from reaching into our wisdom.  Our belief that wisdom comes from outside hampers growth and peace.  Inside each of us is the wisdom needed to fulfill our day.  It takes a very small crack in our dogma, patterns, and definitions to allow for the wisdom to breach the dam.  Wisdom doesn’t disappear.  It doesn’t run dry.  It is infinite and always present.  We are ancient spiritual beings carrying deep within us the ability to reach out far into the stars and bring forth wisdom.  It isn’t held from us only to be shared in our elder years.  It is present every day.

Wisdom is blessed and enriched with age.  The years of experiencing the rhythm of life amplifies the wisdom.  In our elder years we have finally obtained ‘permission’ to release the dogma of society and allow our natural state expression.  For some this permission does not come until their call home.  When their death walk begins it leaves precious time for expression and engagement.

Study, learn, and open to the deepness within you to bring forth the wisdom you hold.  Use your wisdom to nourish and create the life you desire.  Allow for the ancient knowledge you carry to gift and fill the world.

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Why wait?

 W-2

Visions

Oh we all have them.  We follow them till they dim.  We ignore them till they smack us.  We so want to live them.  They come in all sizes and colors.  Some of them hit the headlines while some just make someone incredibly happy.  I know I have lived many.  It is my understanding their importance is downplayed.  They feed and nurture.  What happens when they are ignored?

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At the mere age of 4 I had a vision of living in a small traveling vehicle visiting all the people I loved.  It was an odd vision since I could not reach the pedals and everyone I loved lived with me.  It was a vision that I clamored to accomplish.  Totally making no sense to my parents, they figured I had an active imagination coupled with a limited english vocabulary.  My mother was tasked with growing my verbal skills and I was given a new coloring book.  Not to be distracted I took my favorite doll and traveled the alleyways scaring my mother to death.  I eventually gave the vision up for another.

Soon I had a vision of becoming the flying nun, traveling the world, healing the sick, teaching and visiting all the people I loved.  My world had broaden to include several years of parochial school and a larger group of people I loved.  This vision moved forward towards accomplishment until one summer day.  My mother and I were inside the convent collecting books for the next fall term.  I happened to spy the living arrangements of the dear nuns.  Upon deeper reflection I gave the vision of the flying nun vocation to the discard pile.

As life would have it, I was faced with a new arena of experiences that required a new vision.  Having recently enrolled in public school the world according to my surroundings changed.  I was engulfed by strangers trying desperately to fit into already established groups.   My first true realization, what I had tried to curtail for others in elementary school the pain of being left out and misunderstood, was a common experience now.   I wasn’t a stranger to the feeling.  We have all had times when we felt left out.  The difference was how constant it became in the new school.   A vision began to grow for me.  I wanted to help others not feel left out and misunderstood.  I wanted everyone to have the same opportunities.  This time I could actually begin to live my vision.  I helped with the civil rights movement, women’s rights, and lowering the voting age.  I typed, handed out leaflets, demonstrated, and walked petitions through neighborhoods.   I was finally actively pursuing my vision.  I saw death, defeat, destruction and success.  I grew up and began to realize the true nature of my visions.  I became aware.  I also had to become real.

1795624_559499050823795_1078788267_nVisions are inspiration from our deepest soul space.  They are signposts upon our journey here.  They are not standard and one size fits all.  Visions incorporate all the wisdom we carry inside.

Having visions allow us to thrive in a world we think has gone mad.  Being a visionary doesn’t require amazing feats.  It only requires willingness to allow your true nature to speak.  A vision of world peace is available to all of us.  When we take the time to examine our visions, changing within us those things curtailing our limiting beliefs, they come alive and flourish.

My simple vision at the age of 4 of traveling and visiting those I love is happening right now.  I can now reach the pedals and my friends are across the globe.  My vision of the flying nun was adjusted.  I don’t wear a habit but I do help those who are ill and in need of company, traveling when necessary.   I continue to help to right injustices, protect our planet, and my favorite, support others in seeing and living their visions.

It took time for me to grow and crack open the world I had hidden deep within me.  I continue to crack and grow and thrive.  My visions develop and express themselves. I tweak them if needed but never change their original voice.  Most importantly I follow them with the same thrill of a 4 year-old.  I will go through the Black Hole one day even if only in my Book.

Happy Visioning!  Make them large and wonderful the world needs you!

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Talent

“We are so sorry to inform you.  The talent you thought you had, well, it’s not going to get you where you want to go.”

How many times have we feared hearing that sentence or something similar?  Everyone has talents.  They may not be mainstream, billionaire-making but they always have an impact.   Talents are genuine expressions of us.  They carry gold within in them.  When expressed they are as impactful as a Golden Globe or other form of trophy.

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My mother couldn’t carry a tune.  Her pastries filled out home with delectable scents.  The love coming from the kitchen softened many a blow.  Having children of my own I realized how talented she was as I struggled to make her cream puffs and peanut brittle, finally giving up for my stand-by oatmeal cookies.  She dressed us in handmade sweaters as we grew.  When mohair was the rage she knitted a lined coat for herself and a mini dress for me.  The compliments and ‘where did you find that’ made me smile and proud to say ‘my mom made it’.  Americas Got Talent would have given her 4 X’s.  Her talents weren’t made for TV they were made for us.

There were many in my family with talents.  Brother’s on athletic scholarships, sister’s painting skills that brought extra money, and a father who could weave a story but none of them were rich by most standards.  With each of the talents they held their self-esteem grew and difficulties faced found solutions.

My early talent was seeing the wonder in each person and urging them to further development.  I was the cheerleader with a cohesive voice.  It wasn’t the “rah, rah, rah, sit down, stand up, fight, fight, fight’ cheer.  It was more the development cheer.  Helping each person to find a way our of their dilemma.  I would do this through storytelling and basic psychology.  It was natural for me.  It was just there every time I needed it.  My ability to garden and landscape each of my homes was a natural talent, dancing,  laughing, and creating large gatherings grew stronger as I grew.   I didn’t need to attend an awards ceremony.  I knew that my talents brought pleasure to myself and others.  Seeing their relief, smiles, and enjoyment were enough reward for me.  Sitting in my gardens basking in the scents and sounds brought me my Golden Globe.

I do have a confession to make.  I picked my words before I started as most of the challenge participants did.  I trusted there would be something to write about each.  Recently I joined a writing group and claimed that I was a writer, not just a storyteller but a writer.  I went through the ‘normal’ resistance and soon found myself penning a book.  Last night we were placed on the hot seat.  We were asked to read 400-700 word passage from our book.  I struggled with two different sections mightily.  I also could not find a natural stopping point of 700 words so I went with 921.  I wasn’t nervous preparing I thought.  Apparently I was very nervous as I nearly dropped my phone when my turn came.  I read my passage.  I stumbled over a few words… good indication to find replacements.. and then it ended.  There was dead silence.  No X’s.  Nothing.  I am not new to competition.  I am not new to performing or giving speeches in front of large crowds.  I am new to reading my art to others for feedback.  The nervousness, the personal critiquing, and the fear of “we are sorry but ….”  creeped up higher and higher.  It was so loud that I did not write the rest of the evening.  Every possible smallness piece came flying up into my face.  I could pace the room or I could use my talents and sort through all my emotions.  It wasn’t easy.  Again this morning I was still churning around in my head to quit writing.  It is not easy to set yourself up to exposure.  Resistance as I wrote recently is futile when you are being asked to change your patterns and beliefs.  I am a writer and I will meet resistance every step of the way.

It doesn’t matter  what talent is being challenged and asked to be embraced deeper.  The confusion and resistance come.  The end result is always better and leads to a deeper sense of self and accomplishment.  Accomplishment isn’t bright lights and awards.  Accomplishment is a composure of love that runs counter to your wordy head.  It is an acceptance of the multi-dimensional wealth deep within you.  It is the great seal of self approval that propels every one of us towards the ultimate trophies – self love and acceptance.  Those two trophies have the power to change the world.

So remember YOU’VE GOT TALENT!

T

Swing

To swing or not to swing should never be a difficult question!  Try to remember the first time your mother placed you on that yellow bucket swing and her push released you into the open blue sky!  Remember the first time you sat on your mothers lap with her arm around you as she pushed off into the open blue sky?  Push me, push me you would yell!  After a bit you grew brave and stood up pumping higher and higher.   What is it about swinging that thrills everyone?  Is it the motion and freedom?  The imagined worlds you can go to or the dare to see how high you can fly as the seat gives a jig on the backward rise, perhaps it is the ultimate dare to jump off the swing as it propels you forward?

As you grew older did you lose you desire to swing or did you sneak off to swing and ponder your developing philosophy?

I still love to swing.  Spying a playground with a set of swings I will stop and throw my cares to the wind.

But there is another kind of swing I love just as much.  It is swing dance.  Born of WWII parents we were encapsulated in their dance styles.  Taking turns with our dad we learned some basic steps dancing to Glenn Miller each Saturday night in the kitchen.  Those evenings led me to pursue a dance major followed by a lifetime of dancing.  I can tell you it is the motion, the music, the thrill of combining the two that brings me back every time.  I do believe my dad still dances and will be waiting to take me on a spin across the floor when we meet again!

Enjoy!!

M is for Memories and Moving on

balance

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.

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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?

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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.

 

 

M

Kites

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.

Take time today and go fly your kite!

K