I love summer!

I am a summer person. I adore the long, sun-filled days, days where even the sun is so happy it’s summer, that it lingers even longer, reluctant to cede day to night. I love going to work in the morning sunlight; I love coming home in the early evening with the sunlight still dancing long into the day. I can take a walk or ride my bike to the beach at 7 or even 8pm.

Here in Huntington Beach, our summer temps rarely get above 80 degrees. The temps are nicely warm, with soft ocean breezes lovingly caressing the skin.

From the HB pier, we can look toward land and see the snow on Mt. Baldy in the distance

 

Or look out to sea and see Catalina Island.

I love the endlessness of the ocean stretching out before me, the endlessness of the blue sky. The sheer vastness fills my soul with a beautiful ease and gentles my spirit.

 

I don’t want to give up the beauty of summer, the love of summer, the length of summer, the smells of summer. In the evenings, I’ll sometimes drive along the beach, enjoying the smell of the bonfires and the ocean air. 

 

For many years, I’ve tried to embrace change and tried to find some joy in fall and winter. I’ve never succeeded, though. Everything starts to die in fall; the beautiful days die sooner and I go to work and return in the dark, saddened by the lack of sunlight. The trees start to turn colors, losing their aliveness, their greenness, as they, too, start to die off and detach themselves from the living tree. I can’t ride my bike when I get home from work, or take a walk in the dark or garden or sit outside reading. My joyfulness in these everyday things dies off when fall blunders in, destroying all the light and happiness of summer days and nights.

      

Fall’s dampness makes my allergies worse; already I’ve had a sinus headache the last few days and my eyes, ears and throat are filled. I don’t like the heavier foods of fall; I’m a summer-salads-and-stone-fruits girl. I understand that people who live in other places don’t get the wonderfully amazing summers that we enjoy here. To them, fall brings a welcome respite.

But not to me. I want to hang onto the hem of summer’s flowing dress for as long as possible, embracing the beauty, feeling the joy and the lightness of spirit that summer brings.

simple moments of heaven

There are those who feel that heaven is not some far-off place with winged angels up there among the clouds, but that heaven is all around us and that we encounter angels every day. I tend to agree with them. I get glimpses of heaven in moments throughout my day; moments of bliss and ease, where I feel at perfect peace and contentment. And angels! I think we encounter them more often than we realize. My mom taught us to notice them; when a good samaritan once helped push our car out of a deep puddle during a downpour and then disappeared, I remember her telling us that he was one of God’s angels and we prayed our thankfulness for the help we received.

My life is good and I am abundantly grateful. All are well, all are loved, we are abundantly blessed even as we face life’s challenges. Life is simple and good. It’s these simplest of moments that reflect heaven to me. Simple moments of family gathered together, teasing, laughing, loving. Simple moments of a warm ocean breeze blowing against my skin. Simple moments of life growing in my garden. Some recent simple moments:

My granddaughters recently spent the night while their parents went to a party. We went to dinner, watched a movie and gabbed all night. Their parents came and spent the night after their party. I love the notes added to the whiteboard on the refrigerator; these sweet words light me up inside when I look at them each day.

 

The next morning, we walked down the pier to Ruby’s restaurant for a nice breakfast. Gorgeous—heavenly—day. Warm, sunny, the ocean bobbing with surfers, the pier with eager photographers aiming their cameras at the waves.

Looking toward land, we could see the snowcap of Mt. Baldy in the distance. (Approx. mid-center)

Looking the other direction out to sea, we could see Santa Catalina Island.

A day shared with the love of family, ocean, sunshine, warm breezes—peaceful, happy, heaven on earth.

The garden’s just starting to edge toward spring. Below, orchids and cyclamen are blooming.

The yellow/green orchid is ready to bloom, too. I’m really glad it’s doing so well. I split it into three pieces (sawed it, actually) last year, giving the other two to friends. This one came back in great shape and has even more stalks starting up.

And just check out the freesia in this one pot! Freesia naturalizes in surprising spots each year in my garden. coming back in the usual places, but also showing up in new places. I’ll have to stake these somehow; all of those blooms will be too heavy for these slender stems.

Family, ocean, flowers in the garden – surely this much joy and peace are true glimpses of heaven. Have a beautiful week.

a little alone time …

Settle yourself in solitude, and you will come upon God in yourself. ~ St. Teresa of Avila

Solitude – we live in such a hustle-bustle world that solitude and quiet can seem hard to come by. It can be challenging to find true silence.  Everywhere there is noise assailing us: on video screens in the grocery store’s check-out line; from people’s cellphone conversations; traffic noise; children playing; radios and TV blaring. Many of us have difficulty finding a place of solitude when there are children to care for, jobs to do, errands to run. I know of folks who always have the TV or radio on to have “background noise.” Many people feel uncomfortable and squirmy in silence.

Silence provides peace and calm to the spirit. It can have a physical effect, lowering blood pressure, tension and anxiety. (Listen to loud, raucous music for a few minutes, then turn it off. You can almost feel your body say “aaaaahhh …”) Silence allows us to go within to hear the voice of the Divine. The voice of the Divine doesn’t yell and jump up and down to get our attention. It doesn’t shout; it whispers … gently, in our hearts. Yes, it’s also present in each moment of our day-to-day lives, but when we want to really touch and engage with our Divine consciousness, it can be best to find a quiet place of solitude, free from any distractions.

To find her quiet place, a friend spent time sitting under a Banyan tree each day to reflect and to write. A friend in Hawaii swam with the turtles. My mother used to sit in her big upholstered rocking chair, rosary beads in her hands, her children playing around her, eyes closed, lost in the ecstasy of prayer. Jesus often went off by himself to pray, out in the wilderness, up on a mountain, to a “lonely place.” When my ex-husband left us, I went to the beach nearly every day, just sitting and watching the waves come in and go out, gaining peace from just being in a quiet place and feeling the presence of the Divine with me, making me feel safe and Loved.

The act of solitude—of removing oneself from the distractions and chaos—gives us a quiet place to Be, to listen, to hear the voice of the Divine whispering in our hearts. It might be out on a hike, pausing to quietly gaze at the natural creation around us. Or on the ocean on a surfboard, bobbing up and down in rhythm with the waves. On a beach, in a garden, in a park, in a quiet place at home.

We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness.
God is the friend of silence. ~ Mother Teresa

Each morning, I spend those first quiet minutes in bed feeling the energy of Love in my life. I awaken happy and joy-filled, connecting with the Divine consciousness present in all of life—in the trees outside my window, in the chattering of the squirrels, in the light of the day. Afterward, I sit quietly on the floor, breathing full, deep, lung-filled breaths at first, then just sitting. Nothing to do, nothing to undo. Just sit and Be. In those quiet moments I can best hear the Divine whispering in my heart, starting my day.

How do you find peace and solitude in your life?

morning peace

shanti shanti shanti

peace peace peace

I slowly sense that I am awakening, still straddling that space between sleep and awareness, gently transitioning into a more conscious state.

Eyes still closed, I sense the early morning darkness in the room.

Eyes still closed, I slowly become aware of the sound … and a smile spreads across my heart and across my face. My breathing slows back into a gentle rhythm, my body relaxes in the warmth of my bed.

The sound … like the soft roar of a jet passing overhead.

The sound … saturating the quiet of the morning, softly, insistently.

A gentle, soft din the only sound this early morning as the day slowly awakens—as I slowly awaken—smiling inside and out. The occasional light crack (or is it more like a boom?) like far-away thunder.

The ocean, the ocean. I lie in bed, warm and at ease, eyes still closed, listening to the soft roar of the mighty Pacific Ocean, a gentle, ambient sound; rhythmic, like my breathing, as I remain relaxed, eyes closed.

Wanting more, I rise and open the window, then ease back into my bed and close my eyes again, hearing the ocean more clearly now, feeling it within me like life-giving breath, spreading a warmth of love and peace. A good start …