Calm on the Eve

Tonight is my last official night of summer vacation, and yet, it is a school night as I need to go to school tomorrow. The two exist simultaneously.

My summer was such a gift. I lived mostly in the moment. When I was swimming, I swam and looked for the pictures in the clouds. When I was sailing, I sailed and focused on the wind, water, and boat (ok, and slightly distracted by rainbows and fear, but I was mostly present!). When I watched the boys swimming in the pool, I watched them play and treasured their laughter. If other thoughts floated in, I acknowledged them and let them float away. I relaxed. Each moment was exactly as it was meant to be, and emotionally, I truly was at ease.

The coming school year has only just begun to truly move into the forefront of my thoughts, and I'm ready to shift gears. I am ready to be present in the coming moments. When I am with my students (who I love), I teach, listen, laugh, and guide. When I am in meetings, I listen for and think about how I can best help the adults (including myself) help kids. When I am working with my own sons on their homework, I listen to them with the same compassion that I have for other people's children. Of course, I must plan lessons to guide and facilitate student learning, but I choose to live in the peacefulness of I am here right now.

So on the eve of September, of school, and of a new day, I sit calm and peaceful in this moment. All of the unfinished business of today will be there in the morning. I embrace the opportunities and challenges when they arise, knowing that these too shall pass. No worrying will get the job done; in fact, when I allow the anxiety of the future to grip me in its clutches, my creativity is shut down. That helps no one, especially me. The only business of today that I must finish before I rest is to let my loved ones know that I love them, to ask their forgiveness for any hurts that I've inflicted, and to pray that we choose to trust Divine love, joy, and peace.

Namaste,

L

Kayaks

Tipped upside down on the racks,
waiting, wondering, hoping,
remembering cool water
supporting them
as paddles guided them
out into the lake.

As the sun begins its descent
toward the horizon
hidden by the trees,
they sigh.
Another day has come and gone.
They slip back
into the memories of days
so long ago.

Suddenly,
they are awakened
as they are righted
and carried air born
toward the water,
brushing the rocky shore.

Dragged into the water,
Ahhh, to float gracefully
onto the glassy surface
they sigh contentedly
re-connecting
in harmony with an old friend
as if to say, "I've missed you."

The gentle ripples
kiss the hull
intimately reunited;
equal partners
in this quiet journey.
Both aware
of the fragile balance
of their places
in fulfilling
one another's purpose.

One could not float
without the steady support;
the other unable to support
without a float.

Symbiotically
they bring the other joy,
fully aware of  two
separate journeys
in communion
with each other.
New memories unfold.

Namaste,

L

Water

My friend beckons me,

"Come slip beneath the rough waves.

I will embrace you."

Namaste,

L

Tiny Caterpillar, a short story

Once upon a time, as all good fairy tales begin, there was a tiny caterpillar who lived in a meadow. He spent his day as all caterpillars do--eating. He ate leaves in the morning, leaves in the afternoon, leaves in the evening, and leaves throughout the night. In the morning, he drank the dew from the tops of leaves, and in the hot sun, he nibbled on the underneath side of the leaves. He was eating and growing, exactly what caterpillars are meant to do.

After several days, a long stick with eyes and legs appeared, nibbling on the same leaf as the tiny caterpillar. He looked at the stick as he munched on the tasty leaf.

"Who are you?" Tiny Caterpillar asked.

Walter the Walking Stick squinted his eyes at the tiny caterpillar and said, "I am Walter the Walking Stick. You are a tiny caterpillar."

Tiny Caterpillar nodded, smiling through another mouthful of leaves. "Yep."

Walter glared at Tiny Caterpillar. "I am glad that I'm not a caterpillar. It's not the life for me."

Tiny Caterpillar spit out the remaining bits of leaf in his mouth. "Why?"

Walter smiled, "Because you're going to die."

Tiny Caterpillar shook his head. "We will all die. I'm going to be a beautiful butterfly one day. I'll be able to fly and visit all of the glorious flowers that I can only see right now."

Walter cleared his throat. "You should be a walking stick. We can camouflage ourselves to perfectly match whatever color we're on. You can't do that."

Tiny Caterpillar munched on some leaves. His eyes no longer bright; the leaves seemed to have lost their flavor.

"Besides," Walter announced, "no one can spot us. We can flex with the breeze. We blend right in with the sticks and stems around us. We are truly remarkable. Too bad you're not one of us. Oh well, you'll just have to settle for being a caterpillar."

Tiny Caterpillar sighed, unable to stop eating the leaves. He watched Walter nibble daintily on the leaf that they shared. He watched Walter sway in the breeze. He watched Walter change his shade to match the slightly different shade of green as their leaf was now in the shade. He noticed the way that Walter stood so regally before him.

Tiny Caterpillar shrunk away from the beautiful walking stick.

Walter's eyes twinkled, "Well, you can be like me if you try very hard."

Tiny Caterpillar perked up. "I can? What can I do to be just like you?"

"First, you must eat leaves."

"I can do that. I eat leaves." Tiny Caterpillar took an enormous mouthful of the leaf.

"Ah, no we don't eat like that. We take delicate bites. Like this," Walter coached and bite a small bit of leaf.

Tiny Caterpillar did the same, but his tummy growled because he was so hungry. He wondered how he would live on such small bites, but he reasoned with himself that it was worth it because he wanted Walter to help him.

"Now for the camouflage. You must stare at the color upon which you stand. Then breathe that color in, and your body will change."

Tiny Caterpillar stared at the leaf, a few shades darker green than he was. He breathed in the color, but his plump body did not change. He tried again and again. His color didn't change, but his tummy growled; the tiny polite bites were not right for him.

Tiny Caterpillar ate and sighed a lot. He thought about Walter who long since abondoned him. Tiny Caterpillar thought about how graceful Walter was and about how magical it was to change colors. Tiny Caterpillar tried to eat delicate bites and to change shades, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't.

Dragonfly landed on the leaf where Tiny Caterpillar moped.

"Why aren't you eating more, Tiny Caterpillar? You need to grow quickly so that you can transform into a butterfly."

Tiny Caterpillar sighed, "Well, I'm trying to be like Walter the Walking Stick. We nibble little bits at a time."

Dragonfly was puzzled.

Tiny Caterpillar looked down, ashamed to be called a caterpillar. "Walking sticks camouflage themselves. I can't do that. I tried everything that Walter said, but I'm the same shade of green no matter how hard I look or breathe. I want to be remarkable."

Dragonfly shook her head and asked, "Why are you trying to be like a walking stick when you are a caterpillar who will one day be a butterfly?"

Tiny Caterpillar hung his head even lower. "Walter said-"

Dragonfly interrupted him. "Well, what does Walter the Walking Stick know about being a caterpillar?"

Tiny Caterpillar looked into Dragonfly's eyes. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "He knows a lot. He said that he was glad that he wasn't a caterpillar."

Dragonfly looked into Tiny Caterpillar's questioning eyes. "Let me tell you about my life. I lived in the water for two years. I didn't have wings, and I wasn't glamorous at all. Now look at me. My wings carry me to beautiful places, and my wings shimmer in the sunlight. I am beautiful if I do say so myself. You are a caterpillar. Ok, you're not very glamorous right now. In fact, you're fattening up."

Tiny Caterpillar sighed looking down again.

Dragonfly continued, "But you are destined to transform into a delicate butterfly. That is magical. You will be remarkable. While walking sticks camouflage to hide, you will flutter, landing on delicate flowers. Others will notice you, and they'll see your beauty."

Tiny Caterpillar asked, "Do you really believe all of that?"

Dragonfly nodded. "Yes, you are destined to do what might seem impossible to some. For if I am right, you will transform into a monarch butterfly, who will overcome seemingly impossible odds to travel thousands of miles to join millions of other monarchs. You will see breathtaking sights, and you will survive violent winds. Your transformation will inspire others. You are magical just as you are."

Tiny Caterpillar yanked an enormous mouthful from his leaf. He closed his eyes, enjoying the delicious flavor that came from a particularly juicy leaf. He gulped several mouthfuls. "I am in heaven," he said.

Dragonfly smiled and flitted away.

Tiny Caterpillar thought about Walter the Walking Stick and Dragonfly. His tummy felt happy for the first time in days. He smiled, thinking of himself as delicate and able to fly. He felt grateful that he was a caterpillar and trusted that someday his transformation would occur. He would be a butterfly.

One More Fear Released

Today, I began my day sitting on my front porch, eating my breakfast, and chatting with a friend on the phone. Crows darted across my front yard as if hopping from tree to tree would surely grab my attention. It did. I made a mental note, and I enjoyed my chat as I moved over to lounge on my hammock. Ah, what a beautiful start to the day!

I noticed a flurry of activity next door with mild interest. It's unusual for cars to be driving in and out, especially in the morning. However, since our neighbors split up, there is no such thing as normalcy anymore. I swayed gently and noticed a police car pull into her driveway. The officer got out of his car, the engine still running.

"Hmmm," I said, still chatting on the phone. "I wonder why there's a police car in my neighbor's driveway." It was a simple statement. My heart did not race; there was no adrenaline rush. I was in my place of calm and was able to just observe a simple fact.

We chattered along.

My neighbor began walking up the driveway toward me, and I hung up the phone.

She explained that the man, who had been our intruder a couple of weeks ago, had forced entry into her house during the night. She was shaking and very near tears as she explained all of the details, apologized again for his intrusion in our house, and shared how she felt violated that he had forced his way into her home.

I hugged her.

What a gift! I wasn't afraid. I listened to her, comforted her, and reassured her that we were here if she needed anything. Knowing that these new developments, normally would have sent me over the edge of calm and into the abyss of fear. I didn't go there.

I must explain that I grew up in a house filled with fear that someone would break in at any moment. Looking back, it seems like this was one of my dad's greatest fears. I know that he used to sleep with an ax handle by his bed--just in case. I've heard stories that one night he and my mom were so convinced that there was someone with a gun at the top of the stairs that they called the police. (My sisters and I were sleeping in the rooms upstairs.) The police came, and their investigation revealed that the clothes on the half wall at the top of the stairs were creating the scary shadow. Whew! That was a close one.

Because I was raised to be afraid of whatever goes bump in the night, I learned that the world must not be safe because here's this really big man with a lot of muscles, and he's afraid. If he can't fight the bad guys, then what am I going to do? Sadly, I carried his fears, not knowing that they weren't mine. (Lord knows, I have enough fears of my own!)

That's the gift. I am not afraid to go to sleep tonight. I don't need to keep a vigilant watch over the house and my sons all night. Why do I feel safe in my house at night?

First of all, I trust that angels watch over us. A few years ago, a friend gave me a meditation cd to help me relax before I went to sleep. Part of the meditation was to ask that angels be stationed at the north, east, south, and west of my house. I was also to envision my house in a white protective light. Of course, a few years ago, I was so terrified that I imagined an angel at each door and window--just to be sure. It strikes me as funny now, but it really gave me peace, and I was finally able to sleep without fear. I didn't jump at every bump I heard. Instead, I trusted that we were safe.

Still in a spiritual vein, a friend told me that she imagines filling all of the space as "God-space" whenever she's in a hotel room, office, or house if she feels at all unsafe. I did that every night for many nights. Again, I grew to trust that we are safe. I rested with ease, even when my husband was not home.

I also feel safe in my home because I am more confident in my own physical abilities. Let me clarify that I have no superhero illusions, but I took karate class for about 18 months. I learned self-defense skills and strategies. Those intense classes taught me a bit of self-defense that might make a difference if I were ever in a situation where I needed to physically defend myself. Of course, the first rule is run, but if pressed, I feel more confident that I did before.

So I will sleep peacefully. Yes, the doors are all locked as usual, and tonight we locked the windows downstairs, but it wasn't out of fear. It just seemed like the prudent thing to do. We're trying to make smarter choices so that in an induced stupor, he isn't able to simply waltz into our house because we were careless.

I am happy for this opportunity to be free of my dad's fears. To acknowledge that I will sleep safely at night. Most of all, to be aware of how my trust in the Divine allows me to live with ease. And a sure sign of growth in the last couple of weeks, I didn't scare the heck out of my sons. I simply told them the truth: This man is confused and needs help. We're safe. I hope that I'm able to show them that we really are safe. I choose not to give them the fears that I inherited. Instead, I hope that they will have the inner peace to feel safe wherever they are. I hope that I teach them to trust Divinity, to ask for help when they need it, to be grateful for their blessings, and to choose to live in love. What greater gift could I give them?

Namaste,

L

Mama's Voice, a short story

The little girl raced through the fields. Her fiery curls danced behind her as she raced, certain that she could catch the elusive flickering lights. She prayed as the chase continued, "Please let me hold one of the lightmakers."


She was grateful that the setting sun was fading into darkness as she entered the forest. The lightmakers flickered even more brightly. She smiled certain that victory was close. Her hands reached a bit further as she lunged for another lightmaker, which again escaped her grasp. She had over-reached. Off balance, she fell to her hands and knees.


"Ouch!" she proclaimed, trying to stand up. Her feet and legs wouldn't cooperate. She tried pushing herself upright, but the pain in her knees forced her back to the cool ground. She breathed deeply and sat down to assess the damage. She rarely fell, but when she did fall, she always hopped right back up.


Tonight, she sat in the glow of the full moon and examined the gashes on her knees. She sighed, "Hmmmm...Mama's gonna be mad."


She inspected the ground, wondering what caused the gashes. Quickly, she saw the bumpy tree root. She nodded.


She could hear Mama's voice in her head, "You shouldn't be running around barefoot. You aren't supposed to be wandering in the forest. It's dark stay close to home."


Again, she nodded and sighed. She laid back, resting her head upon the mossy carpet of the forest. She drank in the moon. She marveled at it's white light and how cool it was compared to the warm sun.


Howling filled the night air. Her ears perked up. The wolves continued howling, occasionally breaking into barking and yipping.


She heard Mama's voice again, "Wolves mean us no harm. We're like our furry neighbors. We travel in packs and look out for the others in our group. They hunt on the fringes of a herd looking for the weaker ones who are less of a struggle. We share the land with them. We share the hunting grounds. We respect them and stay close to the fire. You needn't fear their nightly songs. Sleep now, Little One. You are safe."


She breathed deeply and smiled at the moon.


A twig snapped close to her. She sat up and quickly glanced around. She saw no animal but jumped when she heard the howling begin again.


Her mind began thinking, "I wandered away. I am not near my pack. I have no fire. I am alone. I can not run; I am weak." The thoughts whirled faster like a well-greased roller coaster, whirling around the track endlessly. She shivered in the cold night. Goosebumps covering her arms.


She again tried to stand, but the pain made her knees buckle. She sat down again. Her heart racing. Her breathing shallow. Her ears perked.


The howling began again. Her ears told her that they were even closer. The howling was much louder.


She sat still, wishing she could hear Mama's voice. The blood beat in her ears; she was deaf to everything but the howling. When the howling stopped, she dared to gasp for a bit of air.


Then the wolves were silent. Her tiny frame shook. She laid on her side, too trembly to cry or to move. Her mind too paralyzed to think about anything, except the prayer, "Please don't let them eat me. Please don't let them eat me."


Yipping and barking grew deafening. The pack was moving; she could feel it. She stiffened. The wolves growling; she felt their hunger.


She prayed, "Please don't let them eat me. I don't want to be their meal."


The yipping quieted, but the earth vibrated beneath their racing paws. They were on the trail of their next meal. The running was now coming from too many directions. She shook. The earth trembled. The air was silent. She held her breath.


She felt a rush of air whooshed over her and a screech shattered the air.


The running changed direction.


Again she felt the air whoosh and a piercing screech.


She trembled. Why were the wolves running away? Had someone heard her prayers?


Feeling a warm presence, she blinked her eyes open. She gasped. Staring into her eyes was a white feathery creature. She had never seen the owl-hawk bird that sat an arm's length away from her.


Her eyes merged with the creature's eyes. Her fear melted. Her body relaxed. She was enveloped by peace.


She heard Mama's voice in her ears, "You are safe, My Little One. You are safe."


With the protection of the white owl-hawk, she found the strength to stand. She walked out of the forest and across the fields. She heard voices calling for her and turned to her guide.


Tears blurred her eyes, "Thank you."


Their eyes shared the understanding, the connection.


The guide took flight, hovering in the full moon before disappearing into the night.


She smiled and turned to run into Mama's arms.

Namaste,

L

The Final Sailing Class

Begin with a strong northerly wind of about 15 knots, add novices in a small dingy, and mix in a paralyzing fear. Stir this mixture with a zealous sailing instructor who want the sails trimmed in with the boat sailing at the maximum speed. Let simmer for too many minutes, and then turn up my fear to maximum, and you have a recipe for chaos on the water.

So, we rigged the boat, which we're getting pretty good at. Then we set off. The wind was blowing pretty forcefully tonight, but there weren't whitecaps. I didn't feel any fear as we set off. I was happy to finally be sailing with my friend, who by the way was the reason that I took this second sailing class against my better judgment. She is extremely calm and level-headed. I felt a bit more confident in the boat. We started out doing well.

She crewed, and I was at the helm. We maneuvered our way out of the marina toward the marks that our instructor set for us. The wind was much stronger than we'd sailed in before, and I worked very hard at keeping the boat going as slowly as possible. In hindsight, I was probably working twice as hard as I would've been if I'd just sailed the boat closer to the wind, but hindsight (especially from my desk) is always sharper than it was in my moments of sheer terror.

But, I stuck to the plan that the fear in my head created: Let the sails out, steer so the sails flap a bit, and then tack frequently so that the boat doesn't build too much speed. I think at this point, my crew noticed my fearful control and sarcastically said, "Well, we wouldn't want to go too far out of our comfort zone."

I quickly said, "I'm already way out of my comfort zone. You have no idea. I'm working really hard to keep this boat going slowly."

The instructor offered well-intentioned advice to trim the sails and to steer closer to the wind; he's an excellent sailor and wanted to instruct us in how to sail better. But every time he yelled instructions, the fear in my head said, "Don't listen to him. I don't want to sail too close to the wind. I'm working hard at not going too fast." Each of these interactions poked and inflamed my anxiety.

Finally, I'm not exactly sure what happened to be honest, but the boom slammed across the boat and hit me in the head. I let the mainsail sheet (rope) go, and I'm not sure if I held on to the tiller or not. It happened really fast in fast wind, and I sat on the floor of the boat and sighed deeply.

My sailing partner asked me if I was ok, and I said, "Yes." She turned and looked at me and asked if I was sure that I was ok. I looked at her defeated and admitted, "No. I'm not ok."

Then our Irish sailing instructor came over in the motor boat. He told my partner what to do with the jib as he came along our boat.

I honestly don't remember much of what he said. I turned my head away from him. I didn't want him to see my fear, and I didn't want to hear what he was saying. I had prayed. Why didn't it work? I was losing faith in everyone.

Desperate to get him to ease up, I said, "I'm terrified. I'm terrified. It's a phobia. I am scared. I don't want to do this. It's too windy. I'm done."

My sailing buddy said, "What's the worst thing that can happen? We tip the boat, and we're in the water. It's no big deal." The instructor agreed.

Yes, they were very logical; I wasn't.

Every cell in my body screamed, "DROWN! The worst thing is that I drown, and my friend drowns. I don't want to drown, and I don't want her to drown." Instead, I stopped talking, extremely rare for me. I simply shut down.

He was adament that I was going to continue to sail.The final decision was that for the safety of everyone, he would tow us back to the course, and I agreed to stay near the course. I reluctantly agreed.

My sailing buddy was very supportive, completely aware that she was in a boat with Fear personified. I could've had a sticker on my shirt that said, "Hello my name is Fear."

When I handed the tiller over, I was still scared, but markedly less. It was somehow less scary to let someone with much less experience take control. This seems illogical, which is the theme of a paralyzing fear, but at least I wasn't responsible for our lives. I was willing to support her, and as she experimented, I moved my body to keep the boat in a more upright position. It was just about bearable.

As I sit now, hours later at my desk safely on land, I am willing to pause and reflect.

First, my sailing buddy was such a gift. She remained calm, cool, and collected when I was completely terrified. I felt her support, and I am blessed that we were in the boat together. She remains calm in the midst of a chaotic and fearful storm. I want to learn how to do that. I keep facing fears, and I obviously need to learn to handle those times differently. I truly do want to find the calm in the midst of the storm, rather than hours after the storm has passed. I set my intention to find the calm.

As an insightful teenager pointed out, everything shifted when I admitted outloud that I was afraid. Yes, it is a gift that I was able to label the complete terror as a phobia. I didn't say it for noble reasons; I just wanted him to give me a little space. Instead, by saying that I was afraid, it lessened. I guess facing and honoring the dark parts of me that I want to hide in shame frees me from their grip. I need to face the monsters that lurk in the shadows because then I see that they're not monsters, but opportunities to heal and grow. I set my intention to grow by speaking my Truth.

In terms of sailing, I'm very happy that I'm done with this class. I've had so many opportunities for growth, and for that I'm grateful. I have developed more self-confidence in myself as a crew for my husband's boat. I have learned a lot about sailing and myself. That is a gift. I must also confess that I'm happy to be a sailing widow or crew, rather than a sailor myself.

I am blessed, and for that I am grateful.

Namaste,

L

Tburg Fair: An Annual Tradition

This is the 160th summer that the Tburg Fair has opened its gates. For me and my sons, it is the 8th time that we have entered the gates to buy a wristband, allowing them to ride all of the rides they want for six hours.  It is a tradition that their babysitter began, and one that the boys (and my nephew) look forward to every year. It signals that summer's end is almost upon us.

 

The boys love the rides. Before the glue set on their wristbands, they were on the Sizzler. Slightly dazed, they quickly climbed aboard the ferris wheel. In under ten minutes, they already had two rides under their belts.

They tried every ride we passed, and many they went out the exit and ran to get into line for another ride. The bumper cars and Yoyo rides have been yearly traditions.

This year, Danny decided to try the Zipper with his cousin. I didn't like the looks of it; they are barred in a cage which not only goes around a track, but also goes 360 degrees very quickly. Of course, as they are locked in, a friend says that she went on that ride when she was in high school and got stuck upside down for over an hour because of technical difficulties. Gasp! That is not what I wanted to hear.

I watched their heads hitting the metal cages. I must confess that I couldn't even take a picture. (The image below is from Google images.) I immediately went into protective mom mode, praying that they would be safe. I must confess that I might've also asked that they not be so comfortable that they'd want to do it again. They emerged rubbing their heads and slightly off balance, but in tact and able to walk. When they asked to go on it again, I said, "NO way!" They didn't argue or make a face. I think that they were secretly relieved.

Then after a bit of food, they were ready to hit the games. This year, I gave them a budget and said that when they had spent their money, they were done playing games. Of course the goldfish tent caught their attention as the man coaxed, "Mom, everyone wins a goldfish. Let the kids have a pet." I gave him my mean-mom-mean-teacher-look. He raised his eyebrows. I shook my head. Whew the boys were busy talking!

They found a new game this year where they shoot corks out of a gun and try to knock cups off of shelves. It was a great idea, except that the corks frequently bounce back at you if they hit a shelf. This game truly sucked them in. There's something with boys and wanting to shoot guns to hit targets; I'd like to think that it's just a primal instinct to survive, but clearly there's no survival involved at the fair. Instead, there's a very nice man who is making a lot of money and giving out small trinkets. They won other toys by popping balloons, hitting a metal disc with a hammer to ring a bell, and the water gun in the clown's mouth to pop the balloon in back. They were happy to try, and I was happy to avoid the nagging for just another dollar.

So our annual tradition. The kids ride until they feel woozy. I follow them around, carrying their loot. I people watch and chat with people from the community--former students, parents, friends, other teachers. Every year I ask myself: Why am I standing here for hours watching my kids make themselves sick? They are still young enough that they allow me to follow them around and keep tabs on them, but they're independent enough to go on the rides without me. I know that in the not too distant future, they'll want me to just drop them off and vanish. For now, it's a childhood tradition that builds memories, which are priceless.

What a gift! Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy were all dropped by the wayside this year, but the Tburg Fair remains a tradition that they might cling to into their teens and adult years. I'm happy to be part of this long standing tradition.

Namaste,

L

Stop and Listen to the Flowers

If these flowers could speak to me, what might they say?

 

"We're a beautiful bouquet. We each began in a greenhouse. We were tended with care, and just before we hit our full bloom, we were cut. We stood in buckets of water, separated. Our heads sometimes brushed, but we longed to be together. We traveled to a cooler where we were chilled to slow our blooming and to prolong our lives. Finally, after much longing to intermingle, we were arranged into a bouquet just for you. We were given as a birthday gift to brighten your day. We notice you smiling at us, and we stand a bit taller, a bit brighter. We are a gift to you. Your smile is a gift to us. You feel the love with which we were given, connecting you. Well worth the sacrifice."

"I live at the farm where you visit once a week. I face the light, knowing that I am a light being. When I look into the loving sun's eyes, I feel all warm and mushy inside; I get all weak in the stem. You caught me taking a look around to rest my neck. I am very top heavy, and right now, it's a struggle to hold my head high and to look right into the life light. I was calling out to you, and you noticed. You smiled and took my picture. You even found my better side, and the clouds and blue sky gathered to provide the perfect background. You admired me, but honored that my journey was not with you. Thank you for noticing me and taking my picture."

 

"We grew with our sister in the farm field. We were picked just for you by your husband and a pair of blunt scissors. (We're trying not to complain, but sharper ones work best.) We sent out loving energy to him, beckoning him to notice us. He did. He knows that we bring you joy. We have been waiting to join you. Your heart opens and fills with love and hope. What a pleasure to bring such pleasure to you! Thank you for appreciating us and for smiling every time you gaze upon us. You have welcomed us into your family, and while our time with you is temporary, you carry the joy in your heart, and these images preserve us in your memory should we fade from your memory in the depths of the snow and cold.  Thank you for embracing us for however long we're meant to be together."

The Real Me

Open a nesting doll,

to find another one inside

with another waiting within

another layer opened

revealing yet another

eager to be freed

until at last

the final layer

reveals the innermost doll

who is whole,

unable to be broken open.

I am a nesting doll.

My outermost shell

is my olive complexion,

my thick, curly hair,

my twinkling dark eyes,

my somewhat crooked nose,

my extra wide size 9 feet.

You see me clearly.

If you search

just a bit beneath

my outermost shell,

you'll find my next layer,

my ever-changing thoughts

of what ifs that race

like well-greased

never-ending roller coasters

whizzing through the land of thoughts

never stopping, never resting,

it's a race of one,

which can never be won

because the race against the self

is a race against the self.

You spin endlessly with me,

and we whirl through

chaotic changes.

This layer is not smaller.

It is much larger than the first

and harder to move through.

If you listen and observe

me very carefully,

you will bump into yet another

layer of an ever-changing sky.

Happy clouds drifting

across the blue sky.

Angry clouds roll in

to darken the sky

threatening to ruin the day.

Sad tears begin to drip

releasing the hurts,

flowing until they run out.

Frustrated thunder booms

as the jealous lightning bolts

strike the earth,

warnings for others

to proceed with caution.

Calm blue skies open

illuminated by the sun's warm rays.

This emotional layer lives so much bigger

there's no downsizing involved

as fast-paced feelings swap places

the calm replaced by the chaos

the chaos suddenly calms into peace.

You close your eyes and hold your breath,

hoping, praying that the storms pass.

This layer hurts and loves and sucks you in,

and you sigh, this layer so much bigger

than you've encountered so far.

Will you stop afraid

that my emotional whirlwind will pull you in

leaving you breathless and not yourself?

Will I stop here terrified

that something so much bigger

lurks even deeper within?

Will I brave going to my core? Will you?

Breathe--in, out, in, out, in, out,

the gentle rhythm lulling me into a deeper layer

Breathe--in, out, in, out, in, out,

I melt into the sweet sound of silence

Breathe--in, out, in, out, in, out,

my heartspace opening, love's waterfall flowing,

Heartbeat--lub, dub, lub, dub, lub, dub,

my spirit peeks out from behind protective walls,

in, out, lub, dub, in, out, lub, dub, in, out, lub, dub,

my spirit emerges, completely free,

in, lub, out, dub, in, lub, out, dub, in, lub, out, dub,

It is here, deep within that I am.

Only love resides here in harmony.

Love reigns. Love grows. Love illuminates.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

You find yourself meeting me,

seeing me, and you are loved.

I marvel.

My life force, so many times greater than my body,

is somehow contained

in my physical being.

My soul dances, sings, giggles, plays, loves.

I simply am. Love is me.

Love Attracts Love

Today, I spent my birthday in the midst of love. What a wonderful gift for me!

I had the honor of attending and participating in the wedding of dear friends. It was amazing. They were married at a vineyard, and it was idyllic. They stood in a gazebo while friends and family watched them renew their vows of commitment after 25 years of marriage. Many tears of happiness and love were shed during the ceremony and even during the reception. It was truly a heartwarming day.

I think that the word that causes me to stop and reflect now is love.

Love. There's nothing like a wedding to make many of us feel gushy inside. It's wonderful to witness the intimate love between two people on their wedding day. They smile, hug, kiss, and dance in celebration of their love. They publically declare their love and display their affection for one antoher without abandon, without hesitation. They allow their love to touch the hearts around them, opening up to even more to love.

It's a shame that the blissfulness of a wedding day rarely makes it into our everyday married lives. Granted that level of celebration and public intensity would be hard to maintain, and I truly recognize that all relationships journey through the peaks and valleys of life. Believe me there are dishes to be done; kids to be bathed and fed; lawns to be mowed; laundry to be washed; appointments to be kept, and demanding jobs that pay the bills. These are part of our daily lives.

The wedded bliss that I'm referring to the simple, daily celebrations of love.

Celebrating with words: I love you. You look beautiful. Are you happy? This is great isn't it? I'm so happy. What a gorgeous day! I appreciate you. Thank you. I'm happy to help you. What do you need? I am grateful for you. You look so happy. You are such a gift to me. What's in your soul? I made a mistake; will you forgive me?

Celebrating with actions: Dancing. Holding each other close. Holding hands. Holding doors. Preparing a meal with love. Giving flowers. Writing love letters. Smiling. Candlelight dinners. Enjoying the sunset. Stargazing. Looking for pictures in the clouds. Dancing and singing in the rain. Jumping in puddles.

It's these daily simple celebrations that constitute a marriage. The wedding day touches our hearts, but at the heart of marriages is the basic human need for LOVE.

I choose to cherish my loved ones with my words and deeds.

I allow the love of others into my heart, and I express gratitude for their loving words and deeds.

Namaste,

L

Birthday Cards

As I was waking up this morning, I was greeted by Pete and Danny, who jumped into my bed and handed me birthday cards. I opened them up, already touched.

"A paper airplane drifts on the autumn breeze to a very special person it drifts... and here it is... I love you my special one...you." Written by Pete, 11 years old 

He wrote me a poem and decorated it by drawing a paper airplane as if it were delivering his message. I cannot remember the last time someone wrote a poem for me. What a wonderful gift!

"You are my favorite person, Mom. Lots of Love" Written by Danny, 9 years old

They picked sunflowers for my birthday, so it's such a wonderful gift to have a permanent reminder on the card that he made for me.

What a wonderful way to start my day! My heart is just filled with so much love for my little boys (who aren't so little anymore).

Of course, then the fighting and arguing began, but for a few precious minutes, we had peace and love, and that is priceless. I am very blessed to be so loved by such thoughtful and sweet boys.

I am touched by how much their words truly do mean to me. I thought about these cards and the loving words that they wrote all day.

Namaste,

L

Shopping: A bust? The jackpot?

Clothes shopping. Shoe shopping. These are evocative phrases. For some of us, shopping is a glorious treasure hunt to be savored. For others of us, the mere thought of shopping evokes sheer dread. I must confess that I'm not a shop-a-holic. For me shopping goes one of two ways, it's a complete bust, or I hit the jackpot. Today was an exception.

I had been looking forward to going to the women's store where I hit the jackpot last school year; it was over an hour away, and my credit card was ready. My mom and I drove together, and we waltzed into the store. Nothing jumped out and said, "Where have you been all my life? I've been waiting for you." I tried on a couple of dresses, but to say that they weren't flattering would be an understatement. In the midst of my frustration with my body, a salesgirl repeatedly offered help. My bubble was burst. Today, I decided was going to be a bust. I huffed a deep sigh.

We went back to the car and decided to try the mall, after all we'd driven over an hour, and my mom has much more patience for shopping than I do. We checked out a couple of women's clothing stores, which were to no avail, and I slipped into "woe is me" role so let me kick myself verbally while I'm down.

"I'm too fat. I can't believe after swimming so much that I'm still this big. I wish that I were smaller then I would love shopping." Ugh. I hate these old tapes that slip into my consciousness and sabotage me.

Finally, I heard the little tiny voice, who I'm just starting to hear and trust. It said, "Ask and you shall receive. It's not the clothes; it's your attitude." I sighed, and my thoughts slid through the slide show of the last week, ask for help. And so, I asked my spirit guides, especially the angels, for help. I don't know who the patron saint or angel of shopping is, so I kept my plea generic, but emphatic.

I picked up a shirt, and my mom, who usually is in shock at the clothes I like, smiled as if to say, "Yeah, I like that." I quickly thought my thank you, and the store of no possibilities suddenly turned into a store of many possibilities.

We went into the dressing room, and I tried on several shirts. A couple even looked as good as they felt. Success!

While we were on a roll, we went to a department store to look at sandals. Here, we hit the jackpot, and within minutes, I was buying my 70% off sandals. Wahoo!! I love it when I find what I like; it fits, and it's on clearance.



Dark shirt=purple; other print top sparkles with sequence



I'm so happy that I'm starting to hear that loving voice inside. As soon as I noticed the tiny whisper, everything transformed. I let go of the negative thoughts that were plaguing me and insulting my body. My thoughts became, "Ok, so this is where my body is. It didn't take a day to put on this much weight. It's going to take longer than a couple of weeks to take the weight off." I sighed, relieved to be free from the burden of my own thoughts.

It's quite remarkable just how my thoughts impact my life. Negative, judgmental thoughts create a prison, which creates the illusion of so many obstacles. I think nothing is working out. When I listen to that little voice, positive, loving, forgiving, and nurturing thoughts free me from the prison. I started to smile at complete strangers because my spirit was freed from the prison of my own mind. What a gift to recognize that I hold the keys to my own imprisonment and to my own freedom!

 Who knew shopping could be such a transformative experience?

Badge of Courage

Yes, here we go again. Another capsize drill. This one offered new lessons.

So another night of no wind and a sailing class means only one thing--we're going to be intentionally capsizing our boats again.

Actually, my husband and his sailing buddy went out and did a practice capsizing drill with a small trimaran. I watched as he approached it eagerly announcing that he's never capsized before.

Needless to say, I declared, "I'm not capsizing." The three other women in the class declared that they weren't capsizing either.

The instructor, a college student from Ireland, raised his eyebrows and said carefully in his Irish brogue, "Well it's part of the curriculum of this class."

We sat defiant.

"This is a chance to face your fears..." He continued on with a pep talk.

The words "face your fears" rang in my ears. That is the lesson that I've been working on this past week. I have faced many fears, and now, the Universe brought another opportunity to face yet another fear--capsizing the boat, righting the boat, and getting back in the boat.

The silent defiance was growing.

He paused.

I said, "Ok, I'll do it. If I can swim so scared 1.2 miles across a lake, then I can do this."

The tide shifted. I was the traitor in the ranks.

Our instructor seized the opportunity. "Thatta girl, Laurie. Let's talk through what you're going to do." He walked into the "classroom."

I turned and smiled at my friend.

She gave me the "huh?!" look--non-judgemental but clearly processing my words.

Unable to resist, I joked, "Hey, at least I'll have something to write about in my blog."

We rigged the boat and launched. I volunteered to capsize first, despite my terrified fluttering heart. 

The motor boat towed us out to deeper water.

I prayed that if this was really in my highest good, then please help me to do this without struggle and drama.

We capsized the boat and swam around to the centerboard and bow of the boat. While my partner steadied the bow, I pulled on the centerboard, and miraculously, the boat tipped back into an upright position with ease. (This was how it was supposed to happen! Why am I still amazed that when I ask for help, I actually get it?)

Then I tried getting in the boat. That didn't work.

My partner got into the boat and then helped me in. I took a deep breath and smiled. We did it with ease.

When we switched places with the people in the motor boat, I looked and her and said, "We did it!"  It took a few minutes to register, but I really was able to do this drill with help and support. Wow!

Let me be clear. I hope that I never have to capsize again, but I know that if I accidentally capsize, it is possible for me to help right a boat. If I had chosen to stay in my fears, then I would continue to be terrified of capsizing. The open water swim last Saturday freed me from my prison of fear. It was like giving birth, compared to that nothing really hurt.

Tonight, I simply had to pray and ask for help, and it was granted. I trusted my partner. I trusted my instructor. I learned to trust myself. I truly let go of the struggle.

Each time I have faced a fear this past week, my fear in the next situation shrunk. I am able to say that I'm scared (ok, terrified tonight). I'm not really ready to face those fears, but I am willing to face those fears. The bars of fear that have paralyzed me are crumbling. I am no longer stuck in the fear. I am free. What a glorious feeling! Freedom.

I must confess that after we successfully completed the drill, I was a tiny bit sad that I wasn't going to have a picture for my blog. Then I looked down at my leg and saw a couple of scratches from where my leg scraped on something as I slid over the edge and into the hull. My husband calls these boat bites. For me, it's my badge of courage.

Namaste,

L

Sunflower Love

Their humble beginnings
as scattered seeds
hidden just beneath a dusting
of fertile soil
wiggling in the earth
as spring rain nourishes
and nudges their growth.
From spring seeds
roots stretch down
weaving tiny hairs
in connection
with the land,
accepting nutrients
trusting the process.
Much light and water
encourage growth
as fragile shoots
begin their journey
toward the sun.
Kissed by the bright rays,
emerging green shoots
reach for the day star
breathing in
comfort and warmth.
The conditions perfect
for healthy growth.
Leaves emerge
a single bud forms
atop the pedestal
blooming into petals
brightening dark faces.
Deeply anchored roots
thrive in the soil
blooming sunflowers
face their life source
glowing in the light
purely in the moment.
An admired few
selected with love
to adorn inner habitats
brightening the space
as light emanates
from the source within.
In the field,
the life cycle brings
transformation--
petals begin to die
falling softly to lie
upon the earth;
that which gave life
now offers
a final resting place.
Their heads now bow
in prayer to the sun
seeds drop
to the dirt
a gentle breeze
dusts them
transforming them--
a rebirth awaits.

Ask and You Shall Receive

"I'm never sailing with novices again. It's just not right." Famous last words, spoken by me after my adult sailing class. In all fairness to the "novices," we can only learn by making mistakes. That said, I do not feel safe when others are learning to sail the boat in any wind over five knots, and we flirt at all with capsizing.

Let me start with the capsizing drill. Yes, on purpose, sailors apparently must practice capsizing small boats. So, it was a hot, sticky July evening of about 90 degrees, and there was not a puff of wind anywhere. The last resort lesson plan was to practice capsizing the boats (420s) in the lake. We went out in two groups. My partner and I shrugged and said that we'd go first. It all seemed like a great plan.

We got out into the lake, and the instructors said that it was time to capsize. I looked at my partner and said, "Everything about this is counter-intuitive. This is just wrong. Are you sure that we'll be safe?"

She was very reassuring. "Yes, it's safe. I was a scuba diver, and this is all good."

So we sat on the edge of the 420 and leaned over until we were in the water. In theory, the boat also should've tipped over on its side. However, the boom (the straight metal beam that is at the bottom of the main sail) would kiss the water and bounce back up to the upright sailing position. We would grab the boat and try to capsize it again.

After several tries, I announced, "Well, this isn't working. This boat isn't supposed to capsize tonight. Boats that I'm on are supposed to stay upright."

Finally, with a lot of effort from the instructor in a motor boat, the boat went over. Unfortunately, it went all the way over and turtled, which means that the mast was pointing toward the bottom of the lake. However, unlike the people in the below picture, I didn't tie down the line for the center board. So we had nothing to grab ahold of to get the boat upright. Sigh.

from Google images

I found a line (sailor's word for rope) that we could pull to "right" the boat. Unfortunately, my partner and I weren't strong enough to tip the boat or to climb up on the edge of the boat like the people in the picture above. Instead, another participant jumped into the water and helped us, which is a euphemism for righted the boat for us and pulled us into the boat. And, it was at that moment that I declared that I wasn't going to sail with novices again. I was exhausted and defeated.

However, I needed to finish the class. So I looked at the situation and searched for the life lesson. I'm not exactly sure what it was supposed to be, but I knew two things. First, the whole situation would've been better if I had laughed at the situation. Second, I needed to ask the angels and saints for help.

In another class, a different partner was steering in some brisk wind, and we hit two other boats. The stress was palpable, but I took a deep breath and prayed that whoever was available would help us to have a calm and peaceful voyage. I prayed that no harm would come to any of us. Miraculously, the instructor asked us to switch places, and I know that the angels helped me not only to sail the boat with great calmness, but also to win a mini race. It was clearly Divine intervention because we beat another boat with a much more experienced captain. I was grateful that I had asked for help and our journey was very peaceful.

In tonight's class, I took the helm (I was the captain.). The wind was about 8 knots--too much for me thank you very much in a little tub of a boat with another novice. The instructor dutifully ordered me to pull in the sail.

I shook my head, "Thanks, but we're not going fast. We're going slowly." I have to confess it was hard work to go slowly, but I was terrified that we'd capsize. There was no way I wanted a repeat of that whole scenario. After what seemed like forever, but it was probably about half an hour, I said that I was done and that my partner needed to take the helm--being crew seemed like a safer place to be.

Wrong.

She was such a novice that she struggled with the ropes, sails, tiller (steering wheel), and moving from one side to another. The boat heeled a lot, dangerously close to capsizing. The instructor was amazing; he pulled the motorboat up along side of us, and he calmly gave her explicit instructions. Then he'd let us try to sail, and again we ended up nearly capsizing, sails were flapping, ropes were making desperate pleas to be free, and the boat was anything but steady.

Finally, I remembered to ask for help. "Saint Christopher, I know that you're the patron saint of travelers, and we're traveling. Maybe you're even the patron saint of sailors because they travel a lot. Could you and the angels and anyone else who's available please help us?"

Wham! The boat tacked (turned) itself.

Within minutes, a large patch of calmer water grew around the course where we were sailing. I could see the strong wind just beyond the limits of where we were, but our boat was in much calmer water. We both eased into peaceful, gentle turnings and steerings of the boat. It was almost enjoyable. I breathed a deep sigh and began to compliment her for her excellent helmswomanship. I glanced upward and thought, "Thank you for helping us."

I am so grateful that when I asked for help, I received exactly what I needed. I am in awe of how asking for help has such an amazing impact. Maybe if I asked Divinity to help my partners sail (and me too) before I get into the boat, my sailing of little bathtubs would be more pleasant with fewer moments of sheer terror. After all, then a novice wouldn't be sailing.

Namaste,

L