Come Inside

To come inside, a door has to open and depends on how heavy and how long it's been shut. But when something or someone is calling you to do so, listen and pay attention.  The way will become clear.  After an experience at a Native American ceremony, a forgiveness ceremony that truly changed my life, doors opened with the remembrance and sacredness of being human. There are times we hurt others and times when others hurt us unknowingly or with intent.  Once we accept this and forgive ourselves and others a huge, a rock solid, heavy door can fly open like a screen door blown open by a brisk, Spring wind. Doors have many ways in and many ways out.  Invitations come to go inside where it can be warm and cozy or to a dark, deep place, not often visited but holding wisdom if you are willing to go there. Hinges creak, locks get stuck, keys are lost and often the location of the door in unknown. When we are listening, traveling, walking, running, shifting, often then we find a door not seen before but now right smack in front of us, just waiting for the knob to be turned and the lock to be unlatched. What doors are being opening?  Which ones are left closed? I wonder how many have not been found yet. Only ours to know.

Two Years and The Journey by Mary Oliver

Two Years

In two years, where will I stand?  My oldest will be off in college and youngest just starting HS. Life will certainly roll on with bills to pay, laundry and such. But what about the real? What about the dreams? What about the love? What will be moving through my veins to help  me create?  What instrument will entice me to learn a pretty melody and sing a new song? In two years, will I be stronger in spirit and mind and body? These winter stars are seemingly more bright and clear.  With persistence, they pull to tell a story.  I find myself, under them, in the cold early morning quiet, as I walk to start the fire in the cottage.  I can't help but stop, gaze up and breathe.  Breathe deeply.  In goes the cold, winter's air full of the beauty of every early morning sky. Many mornings I have stood and gleened and wondered. I hope in two years there is more time to take in these precious, fleeting moments of time that work my roots and reveal my place. A place of vastness and unknown, of opening and understanding, of passage and movement...of love. The birds are sounding their morning calls. Today it is more a disgruntled bird song to accompany the sudden cold and icy rain. Yesterday's melodies had been sung as they would in early Spring. The robins had come yesterday only to go today, somewhere, to wait out the storm. Sort of a false start to Spring and new beginnings.  Wanting to initiate but needing to wait until all is aligned. Two years, seems like a long time but the way the last one flew by, it will here before we know it. And me? I want to  pray and work with an open heart, mind with intent to give-to find my place in the world.  Happy New Year everyone! (Inspiration from writing prompt-Peggy Tabor Millin and reading a Mary Oliver poem-Journey -read on)

The Journey by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began

though the voices around you

kept shouting 

their bad advice--

though the whole house 

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles,

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop

You knew what you had to do

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

The Journey

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

The Perfect Gift

Early Sunday morning. No color in the morning sky but a pale shade of gray.  This blank canvas is the backdrop to bare trees, naked as they wait for the coming storm. The dark branches are still and sturdy.  A welcome respite, for the birds that are flying furiously to find food before the snow begins to fall. Squirrels chatter as they compete for the feeder filled with hearty sunflower seeds from seasons past and I wait. I wait in morning stillness, filled with warmth, like the morning fire stoked up and warming the hearth stone for the day to come. 

This morning time is nudging me to be still, live still and breath in stillness.  Whenever this winter's cold stops me in my tracks it also pushes, like a hard, relentless wind, and makes me stop and reflect back over the year. I hear it telling me to rest and slow down. Scurrying about, it's easy to lose site of the spirit that comes in this very moment, to each and every one of us this season, only if we let it. The dance of balance to be in the moment versus time to reflect.

Yesterday, my heart was filled with spirit.  A plentiful day that brimmed with discovering creations, made by someone else's hands.  Creations that all started, when a spark from some distant, swirling inspiration touched and moved them to create.  From an open heart into creative hands, transformed to beauty, only to be let go, into my hands, for me to give, from my heart.  

Real talk and spending the day with a great friend made ever fleeting time, last and stick and create a lovely memory to be held this whole holiday season and in ones to come. That to me was living in the moment for the whole day.  This was the true gift.  The one that feeds my soul, inspires and helps me know everything is all right.  The truest gift, a real gift, the perfect gift.

Flooded

Flooded…filled up and overflowing with great things and not so great things. That delicate balance we try for as life sends us on an unexpected turn that brings us back to 'real' and what's important. Yesterday, a day that started out with a full docket of catching up and the usual chores…a run to the grocery store, some laundry (always!), tidying up the house, pull a few weeds, write a set list for an upcoming concert and some paper work all before a swim team banquet.  Only, a major diversion occurred. It started with a call to tend to someone in need which put most of these things aside or lightly touched not to be touched too soon. Things were flooded.  But this time I felt like I was suspended in a whirlpool, with all things swirling and floating around  me, not far but still out of reach.  Last night, as things were overflowing.  I knew to hang on  until the waters subsided.  Sometimes, that's all you can do.  Just before I was going to tuck myself in, I looked up at the beautiful rising full moon behind a hazy, summer night sky and I was reminded....I'm here, in the right place and the right time and part of something much bigger than I can imagine..... 

Cawfee talk for a real, 'Real Feel'

Yesterday, I started the day with two of my dearest friends.  We call it 'Cawfee.'  We rarely drink coffee when we get together but we know what it means when we see it in the subject line. 'Cawfee.' It's our time, a time we make, for ourselves, together, to check in with each other, share, dream, cry, laugh, hug and love each other as the three of us try to figure out life.  I'm so grateful to these two for helping me work through tough times and the nudges they give me to look a little deeper.  When I do and the tears fall, they are right there to catch them. 

The topic of 'self love' came up.  This is written so beautifully...Check out this link: http://bonesigharts.blogspot.com/.  I think I still have a long road ahead in this department but taking time for 'cawfee' is a step in the right direction.  Taking time-what I often feel I have not enough of.  There is no question, that the time I take for 'cawfee' is well spent.  A stepping stone, a great big, huge stepping stone in the right direction...going to hold this with me.

Crooked

Crooked: something bent, not straight, twisted and misaligned.  Not truthful, not open or upfront. Does life get this way sometimes when we continue to brush things under the rug and not communicate and then when we do the perceived straight path goes into some jagged, crooked, crooked road that we don't even recognize?  Loosing ground beneath our feet and feeling like we've taken so many steps back after working so hard to make the ones that brought us forward. Commitment to doing what is right, making good choices so as to not hurt someone else or yourself.  Crookedness is a barrier, a big hurdle to jump over rather than become or go through because it tears down all you've built in time in a  split second and leaves you feeling less than you are.  Part of humanness.  When you do something wrong and need to build back up, it builds strength, courage and determination. It builds compassion for others going through their crooked paths.  I'm jumping over it and leaving it all behind for working with all that has been given  me…all the gifts of my family and the people in my life, my inner gifts and love I have deep down that will pull me out of this dark feeling that I'm bad, not good enough and always doing wrong… some old belief pattern instilled when I was a young girl or perhaps a past life.  I do good in the world and will continue to do good, without hurting others.  This is the road I walk.

Have a great one...
www.lynnhollyfield.com

A Voucher*

A promise of something to come later, that's not quite ready, but you've earned it.  A gift of sorts, packed in waiting.  The contents dictate the longing for, the anticipation of, the expectations of what will be fulfilled when presenting it for an exchange. The end result of negotiation.   She knew she'd have to hold this for a long time, but there was no expiration date.  It may get tattered along the way, forgotten and tucked away in a box for some rainy day perusal.  But there was one stipulation. It can be traded in, only when the time is right for all and the stars are aligned.  

*I'm trying a morning writing practice and the past several posts have been from prompts by Peggy Tabor Millin, Clarity Works, Inc.  Check her out. Enjoying this and it's becoming a part of the day I really look forward to!