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.

One.

“Imagine all the people living life in peace. You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world will be as one.”-John Lennon

"I look forward confidently to the day when all … will be one with no thought to their separateness as Negroes, Jews, Italians or any other distinctions."- Martin Luther King Jr.

One.

I caught a few minutes of “Driving Miss Daisy” recently; there’s a scene where two Southern cops call Hoke “boy” several times, in that superior, swaggering, dripping-with-honeyed-hatred manner some Southern whites of that time held. That accent toward anyone has always turned my stomach. I also just finished reading “Island Beneath the Sea” (Isabel Allende), a story of slavery in Sainte-Domingue (before it was Haiti) and then later in New Orleans. Brutality toward any other being is so difficult to read about or watch.

One.

When Fear rules and guides a person—instead of Love—anyone who is the “other” (not like “us”) is to be viewed with suspicion, instead of welcomed and embraced with kindness. Witness the separateness and segregation of early immigrants: Jews, Italians, Irish with their foreign languages and customs; the separateness of women, requiring new laws to break that separateness; the separateness of Cuban refugees; the separateness and segregation of blacks, of the hatred and brutality they endured; the separateness of gays; the separateness of Latinos, those with legal status and without.

One.

The elimination of separateness seems to move through four stages:

• Tolerance 
  No one really likes “them” in our schools and society, but the “other” is tolerated, allowed limited contact
• Acceptance 
  At some point, it’s accepted that the “other” is here, like it or not, so just make the best of it.
• Integration
  Beyond acceptance, there comes a measure of equality and the “other” becomes more integrated into society, less noticed as different.
• Ignorance 
  The most complete acceptance is when the “other” is so fully integrated into all facets of life (work, schools, business, politics) that one makes no distinction at all. There is no longer any difference that fosters fear as before.

Ignorance of any difference is the goal, of course, where there is no fear or suspicion, no separateness. It’s the place where we truly become One. We see a person as tall, short, black, white, one-armed, male, female, gay, straight, etc., of course, but we make no judgment or criticism. We make no assumptions based upon the physical make-up of a person.

One.

“… your essential nature is pure consciousness. Beyond the disguises of ego-mind and the physical body, you are pure awareness, pure joy and pure potentiality.” – Deepak Chopra

When we drop away the ego and the physical, we realize that our essence—all of us—is a Divine nature, and the Divine doesn’t have a physical body. We inhabit our physical vessel for such a brief period of time and yet, some people spend far too much time noting the differences between our bodies instead of the sameness of our souls. We are not our bodies. We are not our bodies. We are not our bodies. When our mortal vessels can no longer live and we are released from our body, we will no longer have gender. We will no longer have skin color. We will no longer have sexual differences. We will no longer have handicaps or illnesses.

All these require a physical body and without a body, we then fully and completely realize Truth: we are the same.

One.

.

Being with what is …

I have a wonderful, grace-filled friend who has a debilitating chronic illness; each day, her symptoms can change, and they’re usually not very pleasant changes. And yet, she remains a whole, wonderful, amazing gift to those who know her and are inspired by her and her wisdom and grace.

Recently she posted:

“Time, patience, sitting, being with what is, watching it unfold, turn, expand, shrink, stay, move forward and onto another awareness altogether …”

I told her that I should write “being with what is” on my blackboard as a reminder. Her response:

“We so often think we can avoid "what is" particularly when "what is" is unpleasant...NOPE...it still "is". ..well until it becomes "was"...or we run towards "will be"...but come on, lets face it ..."IS," is where we are actually living and breathing.”

How often do we resist “what is?” A chronic illness, loss of a job, divorce, death … some things cannot be changed, others can be changed over time, but in the meantime, we have to be with what is at that moment. I’ve shared many times that one of my favorite mantras is “Receive what you have been given.” When I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia in 1995, I did not receive or accept the diagnosis; I resisted. I continued to search for other answers, something that could be fixed. I finally had to receive what I’d been given and once I did that, I could learn and grow and find what modalities would work for me in managing the pain and avoiding situations that triggered it. It took several years, but I do OK now. I spent too much time, though, not receiving, not being with what is. Resistance was futile. As my friend reminds me: All is welcome. ALL is welcome. all IS welcome. all is WELCOME.

The Buddhists believe that resistance causes needless suffering. When we resist what is, we can’t move forward. We uselessly fight what is un-fightable. Through the usual gamut of life challenges, I feel I’ve learned the lesson pretty well now, not perfectly, but pretty well. When I was laid off last year, I didn’t spent time fretting over it.  I worked at finding a new job, but I didn’t worry. I accepted my situation and worked to change it over time. I now trust that I will land where I’m supposed to land and that things will work out the way they’re supposed to (even if it’s not what I would choose).

Bruce Lee expressed this lack of resistance as being fluid, like water:

Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way round or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.

Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water my friend.

May we learn to Be with what is. Be like water.

Namaste

Thank you, Laura!

Pickle forks

 

A few months ago as I opened the flatware drawer to grab a spoon, something made me stop and look at the contents within. Huh! I pulled out a bunch of spoons and spread them on the counter. A motley collection it was: mismatched, some slightly bent, some tarnished silverplate, one poor rough-edged piece obviously rescued from the teeth of the disposal. Most of them had ornate scrollwork on the handles, not at all my style; I prefer simple and smooth, more refined and elegant to me than the fussy swirlies on these strange spoons. Where did they come from? I know I didn’t buy them. I haven’t purchased new flatware since I was married at 20 years old. Some of those original wedding pieces were still in the drawer; some I knew had been chewed up in the garbage disposal and tossed years ago. I still had most of the original forks, knives, soup spoons, iced tea spoons. I also had eight matching pickle forks. Pickle forks that I had never used (does anyone use them?); pickle forks that I would never use in the future.

It’s funny how we collect things over time, not really noticing how things slowly accumulate, getting shoved into drawers, finding homes in closets or cabinets. Things are left behind, added to our other things, given to us as gifts (even though they’re things we’d never buy for ourselves). We keep and keep. Maybe I’ll find a use. As soon as I give it away, I just KNOW I’ll need it. I even saw a magazine pic with spoons used as garden plant markers with the plant names on the bowl of the spoon. What a great idea … that I’ll never do!

When we’re young, our parents choose our stuff for us; it’s not really our stuff; it belongs to our parents and we’re told when we can use it and how. We grow up and then we really start to accumulate our own stuff; the real fun begins! We get an education, a career. We get a spouse—and all the wedding and shower gifts to start our lives together. We get in-laws, children, a house, furniture, a garden, cars. In our 20s, 30s, 40s, we busily acquire all the stuff of life, adding and adding. Christmas lights, decorations, Halloween stuff, snow stuff, golf stuff, vacation stuff … stuff, stuff, stuff, stuff. Whew!

And then one day … we open a drawer and see all the stuff that we never really intended to acquire, the stuff that doesn’t add value and help achieve our highest and greatest good, stuff that no longer serves us well. We begin to reverse the cycle. We want less stuff, not more. We want stuff that fits us better, of our own choosing; stuff that elevates, that reflects who we are. We start divesting ourselves of all the old stuff, the things that don’t match us any longer. We release the burdens, the extra weight we’ve been carting around in life. We choose a new definition, a simpler, cleaner, more spare definition, tossing away the excess frills and fussiness that are not part of our essence, paring down to the purer sense of who we really are at the core and choosing those items that serve us better.

For Christmas, my thoughtful daughter bought me a new set of matching flatware, simple, clean-lined, perfect, my first new flatware since I was a young bride. I emptied the drawer, clearing everything out, amazed at some of the odd pieces I found in there. It all went into a donation box and I washed and dried my new flatware and put it in the drawer. (Doesn’t it look beautiful in the pic above?) Then I cleaned out the utensil drawer, getting rid of things I’ve never used (I don’t cook) or didn’t need (melon baller?), putting them in the donation box, too.

It’s snowballed and I’m starting to go through closets and cabinets and drawers, releasing things that no longer serve me well, packing it all up to donate, clearing my spaces and the excess that was burdening my life. I’m intentionally choosing what stays and what goes, not just letting the accumulation take over my spaces as before. Little by little, I’m reclaiming each of these spaces, dumping out the old, clearing the clutter from my life, getting rid of the “pickle forks” that I don’t need and will never use. I’m reclaiming my sacred spaces for myself, with intention and with love for the beauty and peace of empty spaces as well as for the things of value that I choose to keep.

It’s good to regularly stop and ask ourselves “What is no longer serving me well in my life?” We need to do a periodic cleanse and determine what that is, whether it’s pickle forks, friendships, a job, a location, a pattern of behavior. May we all have a happy and clear 2011!

Namaste

Giddy!

Giddy, giddy, giddy!  I get so giddy with anticipation as Advent comes to an end and we approach Christmas! I love Advent (see previous post) and all the inner work and calm presence that it provides. But I find myself yearning for the fireworks and happy joy that is Christmas!

I’m restless, anticipatory, finding it difficult to live in the present moment because I’m looking ahead to Saturday, planning my trip to my daughter’s home … then my brother’s … then my Dad’s; envisioning everyone opening the presents that I’ve chosen for each of them. Giving gifts is one of the best parts of Christmas! (Being together with those we love is the best.) I try to put careful thought into the presents and that makes it all the more delicious when I see the recipient’s happy smiles and I know I’ve hit the mark. Yippee!

I took a vacation day today and I’m glad I had a lot to do with my restless self. In the morning, I had two lab tests: bone densitometry and mammogram. Both went smoothly; in and out in an hour. Stopped at Trader Joe’s to pick up a few things and bought a pretty bouquet to take to the cemetery for my mom. After the cemetery, I had a hair appointment in the afternoon. Full day and kept me busy.

The cemetery at Christmas is absolutely THE most festive and joyful place to be! Christmas decor explodes in a riot of color and sparkle all over the hills of Good Shepherd. It’s been raining for the last 5 days, but today was nice and clear so there were a lot of families there putting up their holiday decorations; everyone working together, chatting, being family. Red, white and yellow poinsettias in big, foil-covered pots; white picket fences with gold, silver and colored garlands; cardboard fireplaces; giant red-and-white candy canes; angels, snowmen, Santas, wreaths. And the Christmas trees everywhere! Brightly, joyfully decorated with ornaments and garland wound round and round. I wish I could take pics of it all and share with you but it really has to be experienced in person. One family puts up a large cardboard fireplace and hangs stockings on it with each family member’s name; each year, more and more stockings are added to the fireplace. It always moves me; their family clearly consists of those who are still here physically as well as their loved one who crossed over.

And that’s the other beauty of the cemetery: you can feel the air almost vibrating with all the love there! I wish I could share it with you; it’s utterly amazing and always stops me for a moment as I become accustomed to the vibration there. I believe that when we think of others with love in our hearts, we often create a strong, loving connection to them in spirit, whether they’re with or without a physical body. (When my daughter was a child, if we were apart, I’d think of her or she’d think of me with love and the other would feel it with absolute certainty. My mom did that, too, all my life, and even now I sense her loving presence at times.) The physical sense doesn’t matter; it’s temporary anyway and can get in the way of the deepest connections we can make. The forever part of our selves—our spirits—are joined in a beautiful wave of love.

It’s that love connection that makes the air vibrate, I think. As people decorate with their families, they’re loving those who are with them, they’re loving those who have gone ahead of them, they’re remembering their ancestors and their people, where they’ve come from, where they’ve been. It’s all infused with a powerful, abiding, enduring love. The connections blend and blur, filling the air, the earth, the sky, the decorations, the Christmas trees. It’s an amazing experience; I think it’s especially powerful there because ALL those people are gathered there on behalf of loved ones, thinking, remembering and creating a whole lot of love energy concentrated all in one place. Even after they’ve left, that palpable energy remains in the places they’ve been. I’m really glad we still have cemeteries where so many can gather to generate this amazing and loving experience.

I hadn’t been to the cemetery since July when I broke my ankle. Mom’s headstone was in sore need of polishing and the leaves needed to be cleared off. I tried to pry the flower vases from the holes in the ground but they were tightly and stubbornly stuck. I wrestled and wrestled with them until one of the cemetery workers driving by stopped to help, using his shovel to pull the vases out and then to clear the overgrown grass around them. I was grateful for his kind help and wished him a Merry Christmas as he smiled, waved and drove away. I arranged my flowers, cleared away the grass and polished and polished Mom’s headstone until it gleamed. I knelt and prayed, sending her love, sending love to my tios and tias, my abuelos, my cousins and friends who have all gone ahead, adding to the existing loving energy in that place. My restlessness became a calmer, quieter, loving giddiness. Filled with love from all that energy, I’m soooooo ready for Christmas.

Namaste

Of Advent, anticipation and acceptance

Advent is a time of joyful anticipation, a space to slow down, prepare, go within and examine our hearts and souls, finding a home in our hearts for the spirit of the season; for many of us, for the love of a Savior, a new King. In the midst of holiday hustle and bustle, shopping, decorating, baking, parties, it can be hard to consider Advent being a slowing down time. I used to get caught up in all the chaos until I started focusing on the Advent aspect of this time of year. Eventually, I learned to plan and organize so that I can slow down during Advent. My trick? I take the week off after Thanksgiving, do my shopping (mostly online), write out my cards, do my holiday decorating and spend time preparing my inner life while the outer life around me buzzes with Black Fridays and Cyber Mondays, extended shopping hours, sweater sales and people frantically trying to find the perfect toy. That week allows me to get things done and frees up my time for the rest of the season so I can be more thoughtful, less hurried, more prepared. I remove myself from all the holiday chaos, intentionally, purposefully, planfully.

And that was the plan this year. I took the week off – and promptly became very ill the day after Thanksgiving. I was sick with fever, sweat, chills, nausea – oh, so sick! I lost 14.5 lbs in 4 days. I did manage to get the online shopping done toward the and of the week, but the cards didn’t get mailed, the decorating didn’t get done and three weeks later, I’m still recovering, with a lingering cough and an uncertain tummy.

Life happens and we have to adapt and adjust our plans accordingly, trusting that everything will turn out the way that it’s supposed to. I think of a young girl betrothed to be married, making her plans to become a wife. But all the plans change when her entire world is tossed upside down by the appearance of an angel with a remarkable, fantastical story. I think of a carpenter, betrothed to a girl who we understand to be faith-filled, good and virtuous. Then plans change when he is told that this good girl is pregnant—and not by him, which, according to the laws of the day, could result in her being stoned as punishment. Instead of having her stoned for her betrayal, he decides to quietly divorce her. But plans change again (another angel!) and he takes her as his wife. The lives that they had planned together took a wild, unexpected, unplanned detour. Yet with deep faith they trusted that everything would turn out the way it was supposed to turn out in some unknown way.

Faith is not rigid, unyielding. Faith requires flexibility, an adaptive spirit, the ability to go with the flow. Faith requires accepting the possibility of change, that things may not go the way we’d planned. We can’t stay attached to the plans when circumstances change; rigid attachment creates misery and unhappiness. We have to release our expectations and be flexible to whatever comes up.

Although I didn’t accomplish all I wanted to during my vacation week, I did slow down during Advent nonetheless, editing my plans to suit my changed circumstances, giving up a little in order to gain the peace and calm that nourishes me at Advent. Trusting with deep faith that everything would turn out the way it is supposed to turn out.

 
I wish you and yours the deep, abiding peace, love and happy joy of the season!

Love,

Rose

Rainbows and angels

I start to awaken and, as is my practice, with my eyes still closed, I give thanks for the comfort of my bed, for the shelter of my home, for the dreams I had during the night, for my sheets, blankets, pillows, for a restful night’s sleep. I open my eyes and, as I do every morning, I look toward the window where my liquid amber guardian tree stands directly outside my window with all the other trees beyond. The leaves are changing now, losing their green and turning into big leaves of golden yellow. Something on the ceiling catches my eye … and I smile. Rainbows! There are rainbows scattered everywhere in my room: splashed across the ceiling in tightly colored, long, narrow bars; brilliant red, bright orange, vivid yellow, soothing green, deep blue. More are splotched on the closet curtains, but these are refracted from the mirror and are bigger and looser, gentler-colored. I lift and drop the blankets to make a slight breeze and the rainbows start dancing all around, rainbows on walls, furniture, ceiling; so magical!

I hang crystals in the windows of my living room and bedroom. Pollyanna was one of my favorite movies growing up and inspired me to hang the prisms years ago. During the spring and summer months, they’re just a bit of sparkle. But when the sun starts to hang lower toward the south in the fall and winter, its rays can enter the windows directly and hit the the prisms, which explode into brightly colored rainbows in my rooms.

This afternoon, vibrantly colored rainbows were streaked across the living room walls, floor and furniture. When my granddaughters were little, I’d tell them that the rainbows were angels come to play and to bring us love, blessings and happiness. My little grand-girls would dance and laugh in the rainbows or they’d chase and try to catch them if the prisms were moving from the breeze made by their play. Even now, when they see the rainbows in my home, they remember the angels. I do, too.

Lying in bed the other morning, with the colors all around me, I raised my legs overhead to practice the physical therapy exercises I do for my healing ankle (fractured several months ago). I see a rainbow on my ankle as I go through the exercises and I feel that angels are blessing the work, blessing the healing. Silly for a grown woman (a grandmother) to think such things, but I believe in magical things, in angels and blessings and healing powers. As a young woman, I wouldn’t dare share such nonsense with others; what would people think? Thankfully, I’m at an age where I can be a silly old grandmother less concerned about others’ judgments … and I can believe in angels in the rainbows.

Have a sparkly day!