Thankschristmas

Yesterday, doubts were dashed and festivity prevailed. Yesterday, you see, was Thankschristmas. My quirky family has adopted a new tradition since the little lake house entered our lives last year. Because my relatives leave for warmer winters at the end of the month, we have officially rushed the season and combined the holidays. We have invented a reason to gather and feast in the shimmering autumn of western New York. Thankschristmas is now my favorite holiday.

With a gaggle of German immigrants in attendance, of course, there was a real tree. Lights, glass ornaments and a wood-shaving star on top. The table was set with vintage Christmas linens, candles, pilgrims and pumpkins. Each chair had a vintage apron, freshly pressed, draped over its back. The kitchen was resplendent with smells of the rushed seasons. I was Pavlov's dog at the site of 4 pies. The floor under the tree was massed with bags and tins, all stuffed with treasures from garages sales and thrift stores. My Aunt, the Queen of Collecting Humorous Crap, had spent countless happy hours hunting down silliness for the holiday. There were 48 packages in all.

The first order of business was food. Hors' d'oeuvres', al fresco, out on the abandoned golf course just beyond the lake. Roasted tomatoes and goat cheese, pears with walnuts, dates and marscapone, cider bread with 2 Italian cheeses. We were vultures.

The second order of business was food. Back at the house, dinner was heated, wine was poured, everyone donned their vintage aprons (the men looked especially chic) and the feast began. We were insatiable. Aprons had to be loosened all around.

The third order of business was loot. 48 packages worth. We each took multiple turns picking from the pile, showing off our wares, stealing, bargaining and laughing 'til we cried. My Dad landed a shiny blue thong in one round, and I am the proud owner of 5 vintage paper, holiday tablecloths in original packaging. I almost gave them up for a chance at a John Deere tractor apron in green and yellow.

The last order of business was food. 4 pies and real whipped cream. Mincemeat, apple, pumpkin, and peach. We were gluttonous.

Finally, reluctantly, Thankschristmas came to an end. We were happy. We were full. We were thankful. Our cheeks hurt from laughing. Our invented holiday was the remedy for all ills, all worries, all doubts. All we need is good food, good company, laughter and love. Most of all, love.

Dreams and Doubts

I have many wishes and dreams and hopes. I have varied talents and abilities. I have loose ideas of how to manifest my dreams using my talents. I have pictures in my mind of what those dreams will look like and feel like. What I also have are doubts.

I have doubts in my ability to follow through. Doubts that what I have to offer has value. Doubts that I will lose myself in the unfolding process. Doubts that I can shed the reclusive cloak of safety long enough to bask in the manifestation of a dream come true. Doubts I can stay present in the dream and hold it long enough for good to be done.

And so I am stuck. Paints and papers lie dormant. Photos remain hidden. Words are suppressed. Plans for gatherings to heal and share and blossom remain unexplored. I am stuck in a world of doubt.

But this I know: no other woman on earth can give to the world what I alone was sent to give through my authentic gifts. If I do not rise above my doubts and fears, a piece of the healing puzzle will go missing. A spark will never turn to flame and warm waiting hearts. I will spend the rest of my days pregnant and uncomfortable, never giving birth to the full purpose of my soul. That scares me more than death. To live an unfulfilled life.

Today I am asking God and angels and my own higher self to help me release my fears and doubts. To help me burst the bonds of a cloaked creative life. To help me understand how flowers and tea and art and words and compassion can meld into a life that takes flight. A life that shines and shares the flame of God within.

{And do you know, no other person on earth can give to the world what YOU alone were sent to gve through your authentic gifts...}

Update: Through my sniffles and shared thoughts of doubt over the phone he said to me, "Honey, the answer to everything for you right now is to believe in yourself. It's that simple. Just believe in yourself". Well, ain't that somethin'. And he's right.

Pale Yellow Petals

I'm waiting. But I don't know for what. Time is suspended. Interest is suspended. Ambition has taken a back seat. So has sloth. I'm simply waiting.

There is no discontent inside this void. Actually, life is more crisp. My awareness is heightened as angels scatter their hints and wisdom before my less-than-turbulent mind. I'm watching. I'm listening. I'm gathering data.

I continue my daily routine of making pretty things. I thrill at the sight of rainbows, 2 days in a row, on my drive home. I marvel at a profusion of pale yellow petals in my kitchen. I cook. I cuddle. I tilt my ear to the silence.

I'm waiting. Waiting for a signal or a flicker or a post-it note that points the way to my next great passion. Or redefined purpose. Or next step on the path of my personal evolution. It's coming. In one form or another. On petals or skyline spectrums or whispers in the noiseless night. It's coming. I'm waiting. My heart is filled with hope.

Paint Your Pumpkins Blue

Can you feel the energy of uncertainty rippling through the air? Can you feel the nerves of Americans beginning to fray? Can you feel the low-grade fear? I can. I can sense the questions and the wonderings and the whispers of "holy shit". This once stable ship is cruising into uncomfortable waters. Will we navigate the lanes with ease and accuracy or will rocks and rapids bring us down? I have no answers, but I have some thoughts.

Fear is a contagion. If enough minds embrace the contagion, the collective ship will go down. It is imperative that each individual mind and heart keep fear at bay. If a positive, hopeful mind set can be held by enough people, this transition, and those to come, will not be painful.

Now is the time to learn to share. Now is the time to practice being less selfish. Now is the time to seek cooperation in our personal and public lives. These basic principles could very well be the sustaining factors if the waters ahead become rough.

Be open to alternative solutions. Stop needing everything to be just as it always has been. Try new things. Be more creative. Paint your pumpkins blue. Add glitter. Set them in the sun.

Wish everyone well. Wish everyone peace. Wish everyone strength to meet their needs. Be mindful that what we wish for others is what we unconsciously wish for ourselves. What we give out in thought, word and deed is what we will surely get back.

And lastly... learn to receive grace.

World Anthem

This is my song, O God of all the nations, a song of peace for lands afar and mine; this is my home, the country where my heart is; here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine: but other hearts in other lands are beating with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country's skies are bluer than the ocean, and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine; but other lands have sunlight too, and clover, and skies are everywhere as blue as mine: O hear my song, thou God of all the nations, a song of peace for their land and for mine.

May truth and freedom come to every nation; may peace abound where strife has raged so long; that each may seek to love and build together, a world united, righting every wrong; a world united in its love for freedom, proclaiming peace together in one song.

These are the words to the national anthem of Finland. How beautiful is this? To me, this should be the world anthem.

Welcome Autumn

My favorite season starts today. Autumn, cozy autumn, with its luscious blue skies and flaming maple trees and bushels of sweet-tart fruit. With its long pants and light sweaters and cotton scarves for fun. With its pumpkins, its cinnamon, its cider and plum tarts. With its reds and golds and fireside oranges. With its grapevines and gourds and gallons of leaves swirling on the breeze. With its pine cones underfoot, extra blankets on the bed, with its sensual scents in the kitchen.

Autumn is bounty. Autumn is gratitude. Autumn is reward for services rendered. It is the promise that death is not to be feared, but to be seen for its beauty in transition. Autumn is hope. Hope and knowledge that life continues, even when it is breaking down, breaking open, breaking new ground that bares the soul. Autumn is perfection in its release. Perfection in its strength to let go.

Autumn is rich. Ripe. Regal in the gifts it bestows. Autumn is wisdom in maturity. Autumn is praise for the latter stages of life. Autumn is triumph and glory and the sweet smell of wood-smoke. It is caramels and apples and kisses. My favorite season starts today. Autumn, crisp and cozy autumn. Welcome.

Good Morning, Friends

If you want something you have never had,

do something you have never done.

Be brave. Be bold. Break boundaries.

Don't hold back anymore. Live free.

You are safe and loved. You are safe and loved.

I promise.

This amazing, inspiring photo was forwarded to me a few years ago, with no proper credits given.

Good Morning, Wall Street

Sweet Calm

Welcome deep sighs. Welcome dropped shoulders. Welcome delicious zen in my brain. Thank you, Serenity, for visiting your sweet calm upon me. Thank you for parting the clouds, and bestowing a span of grace after 5 and more months of...well, difficulty. And lots and lots of growth. Thank you, as well, to the planets Jupiter and Pluto for moving yourselves out of retrograde. Not a moment too soon or too late.

Isn't it the most glorious feeling when prolonged stress ebbs away and you suddenly notice how comfortable your high-thread-count sheets feel at 5am on a rainy morning? Or how exquisitely goat cheese melds with garden tomatoes? Or how adorable the pleas of an almost 8 month old kitten trapped in a kitchen cupboard sound? Yes, it's a sweet life and I'm grateful for the returned clarity of mind that allows me to savor the simple miracles of everyday living.

But there's no telling how long the zen will last. 3 more hours? 12 more days? Fingers crossed, 5 more months? Living with the hormones of a female body over 40, aging relatives, another busy season at work approaching and the coming days of little sunlight, I'd best be thankful-to-overflowing for the bliss and calm of today. Float in it, dance with it, eat it up and drink it in. Cook, bake, sing, swoon, walk with the wind and smile. Fill my coffers with sweet calm. And pass it on.

Looking For Inspiration

I'm feeling restless. I'm looking for inspiration. Something within wants to come out, but the moment has not quite arrived. While I'm waiting and wondering and trying not to wallow, I'm asking the Universe to spark my imagination and drop big, fat clues in my path. 3 sparks arrived in my mailbox, each one ripe with beauty and clues and impetus to nudge me closer to that birthing moment.

2 sparks came from women in California. Both artists and philosophers. Both amazingly brave and talented. Both new authors. Kelly Rae Roberts and Christine Mason Miller have blogs I follow and learn from. When they each announced their intention and then the completion of their quest to write a book, each filled to brimming with personal art and gifted philosophy, I had to order my own copies. When they both arrived last week, it felt like a sacred message dropped at my feet. Enjoy, learn, absorb. Cherish and respect the personal truths and beauty each woman sent out into the world. Most importantly, understand their bravery and gumption gives me inspiration and permission to dream that same dream for myself.

The 3rd spark came from a woman just over the border from me in Canada. Gillian da Silva also writes a blog I follow. On her blog, she held a contest to win a free copy of one of her photographs. I won. And my spoils arrived last week with the other 2 sparks. I chose a photo of the red Moroccan slippers I own and I couldn't be more pleased. Gillian's clue for me was to remember to be generous with my abilities and my art. To spread the love through my art.

As extra bonuses and inspiration, each woman sent a piece of their talent to me. One print and 2 original collages. How lucky am I? How amazing is the Universe? Ask and ye shall receive. Sparks and clues to birth the next phase in my life? They're arriving. And I continue asking for more. Eventually, the moment will come when I no longer feel restless and clueless about the next great adventure in my life. Through inspiration and confident action the next dream will be born.

Success

This is my success. My triumph. My larger-than-life moment. On a quiet Sunday morning of rose petal tea, wet hair and blooming violets, I am flooded with this notion~ I am loved.

Yes, good God, yes, these simple 3 words are the definition of my success. My life-thus-far story of success. Not accomplished artist. Not floral designer beautifying the world. Not entrepreneur, land owner, holder of patents that change lives for the better. Not #32 on the list of wealthiest people. Not best selling author. Not Queen. No, my bowl-me-over, how-did-I-not-see-this-before story of success is I am loved. For who I am. By marvelous, beautiful people.

The dawning of this notion happened last night, a night of sharing dinner and laughter and good conversation with my spiritual tribe. I was the last one to arrive, but the welcome I received was soul-warming. It was this gathering, this embrace, that tipped the scales and cracked open my brain to the understanding I need no other success than to be loved. Because I am aware that to be loved requires that I must first be giving it out. I must be the originator of the flow of this most powerful energy, and then I must be brave enough, and self confident enough to receive it. Love is so simple, yet it requires fearlessness to offer it out and allow it back in. Smack me on the forehead, I am fearless. And I just figured this out.

How amazing. How beautiful. What a splendid relief. I am a success in this life. My life. Because I am loved. By friends, by family, by one significant man in this world. If you give love and you know how to open your heart to receive it, then Darling, you are a success too.

New Wings

What a miracle. What a marvel. What a message. Behold the cicada. New body, new eyes, new kelly-green transparent wings. I discovered it in my backyard, freshly emerged from the shell of its old life. It was clinging to the remains of its former self, waiting patiently for its new wings to gain strength. Eventually, its wings would dry and give lift to its new life.

Do I even need to spell out the message? The one about being ready to take flight into the newness of a life we have imagined and worked for, but still feeling a tiny bit unsure of the unknown and needing to hold fast to a part of our old lives...for the moment?

Evolution takes time. New lives, new endeavors, new relationships or new territory in established relationships, morph slowly, but purposefully. All we need to do is hold on, attend to the needs of the moment and trust. Trust our new wings will firm up. Trust our instincts are spot-on. Trust the higher part of ourselves, unfailingly connected to The Creative Force, will know right timing and can read maps.

And let's relax. The cicada was not there the next day. Both the old shell and the new wings had disappeared. I searched the grass beneath the tree and found no evidence of the former life. But high above me, where only wings could reach, came the loud, shrill whirring song of the newly reborn cicada. In that song, the message came, "and so shall it be with you".

Labor Day at the Lake

Labor Day at the lake. The hidden-jewel, private lake community in western New York inhabited by my close relatives. They offer an open-door policy to this little slice of paradise. This year's celebration was highlighted by paddle boat races, a children's regatta, luminaries on every dock at dusk, and full scale patriotism.

The Black Madonna

As a woman who follows no established religion, I find myself drawn to well-known archetypes. I prefer to pluck those archetypes out of their religiously imposed limitations and get to know them in a more pure, more Universal sense. Mother Mary, Mary Magdalene, the Buddha and Archangels all command my attention and interest. But right now, in this transitional moment, it is the Black Madonna who comes to call.

The Black Madonna can be found throughout Europe, known as Our Lady of Czestochowa. She is much less known in America. She is a Christian icon, yet she carries a Buddhist element, as her number one calling is compassion. For me, she is larger and more important than the narrow niche allotted her in the context of religion. For me, she has much more to say and contribute. I, for one, am willing to listen and consider her suggestions.

Over breakfast this morning and a cup of tea, the Black Madonna told me of a great need. At this point in time, it concerns her deeply. The need, she says, is to nurture. The world is falling apart at the seams because human beings do not nurture each other in ways that elevate esteem and worth. Human beings do not make the time and space to simply hold each other. It is so basic, she says. The arms and lips and hearts and hands of human beings are the greatest known healing agents. If more people were held, if more people were embraced by the soothing energy only human bodies can offer, less people would be ill. Less people would be distraught. Less people would be angry.

The Black Madonna says, the answers to so many concerns and needs are made clear when a person is given the simple, free, extraordinary energy that vibrates in the cells of God's highest creation. She says we need to open our arms more and welcome others in. We need to hold the heads of those who suffer from headaches. We need to kiss the wounds that are slow to heal. We need to wrap ourselves around someone from behind and squeeze, to let them know we have their backs. We need to let our bodies and our hands offer our love in palpable ways. We need to be willing to receive the same.

Nurture, nurture, nurture, says the Black Madonna. Nurture ourselves, nurture each other. Spread the love. Every single human being needs to be nurtured, well past childhood. We need to be nurtured from birth to death, and we are well equipped to do so. Only our minds and cultural limitations keep us separate and sad and longing for wellness. Open up, she says. Spread your loving arms, spread your loving wings. Go forth and heal each other.

{Stock photo image of a Black Madonna statue from a small church in Italy}

Wind In The Willow

Come, said the Willow. So I came.

Dear One, said the Willow, give me your sorrow and stresses. So I told the Willow my concerns.

There is no sorrow God and nature cannot heal, said the Willow. Do not hold onto grief. Release it into my bark and let it flow through my roots to the Mother. So I pressed my cheek to the creviced trunk. I felt the grief flow outward.

You are safe, said the Willow, and your heart is strong. So I kissed the Willow and shared my heart and bowed my head in gratitude.

Dear One, said the Willow, this is my message for you: Live well. Love fully. Hold nothing back. Embrace the winds of change. And dance.

So I draped myself with fingertip-leaves and danced with the wind in the Willow.

The Reclamation

I am being reminded I need improvement in the areas of nurturing, nourishment and love. Towards myself. Physical discomfort and longing for activities I weaned from my life have stirred my brain into wakefulness. I have put too much of myself aside and it is time to get my priorities straight. It is time to reclaim the dreamer, the daughter of nature, the balanced and happy girl.

Boundaries have been playing a heightened role in the reclamation of myself. The needs of others, the opinions of others, the well-meaning-but-not advice and reprimands have worn me down. Now, my hand, palm facing forward, goes up rather quickly. If anyone wishes to take from me without giving back, or not even attempt to understand my needs and concerns, my friendly demeanor turns just sharp enough to stop the trespass.

In order to balance myself and declare, "I love my life!", some boundaries need to come down, and some need to go up. I'm discerning which is which. Where have I exhausted myself needlessly with people and situations that simply suck me dry? Where have I denied myself the simple pleasures that keep my soul moist and pliant? How am I going to move beyond the people-pleasing program? What actions am I going to take to reclaim the girl who loves to be happy?

I'm working on all of it because my physical well being depends on it. As does my happiness quotient. As does my ability to help and serve others. Nurturing myself through healthy boundaries, time to engage in activities I love, connecting with people who know how to give and receive, and yes, indulgence in chocolate and cheese, will reclaim the girl set off to the side. The girl I wish to be. The girl I am.

We Have The Answers

I've been thinking. Pondering. Testing a theory. The theory is this: what we need to better our lives is right in front of us. The keys to solving riddles, moving forward, overcoming adversity and embracing more bliss exist within the life we are leading today. The key, the information, the piece to the puzzle can usually be found in our homes, in our relations, in the routes we travel on a regular basis.

The Universe at large, through God-orchestrated synchronicity, provides everything we need and works mightily to get us to notice the simple answers to all our concerns and questions. Hints are dropped, words are spoken in passing, something suddenly catches our eye. In reality, our questions are answered before we can even ask them. But we're so busy living our frantic lives, when panic and conundrums and concerns come up, we claim to be lost and unsure and very confused as to how to solve the riddle.

If we sit with the concern and the riddle for a time, the Universe will gladly remind of us something our friend said 3 weeks ago that applies to the concern of the day. Or lead us to the magazine pile that reveals the information to ramp up our happiness. Or we simply become aware of our craving for fresh fruit. In most cases, the route to betterment is mapped out before us. In most cases, we choose to stick to the route that continues to enable our helplessness.

So, it all comes down to choice and free will. We're not stupid. Mostly we're lazy and afraid. Afraid to make the changes the Universe has clearly mapped out with a flourish of gold ink that says, "Do this and your life will be better. Way better." But we piss and moan about how hard it all is, how unfair it all is, how the effort seems too much to ask. And we become more afraid.

Let's choose to look carefully at the lives we lead, the homes we live in, the social connections we have. Our entire mundane lives are set up by Forces more clever than we to support our highest and best. We have the answers. If it is not a complete answer, we have, at the very least, a perfect starting point. Let's choose to look around our known worlds and help ourselves in simple and direct ways. Let's make the effort and choose the changes that bring more bliss.

Comfort Comes

Life carries on and comfort comes in many lovely disguises. Flowers and cardinals and rip-roaring thunder. Raspberries and tea and wishes from people afar. Love is everywhere. Love is here with me. Love does not cease.

Angels have come. My beloved Mary has come. Invisible paws have come, walking silently at the edge of my vision, guarding and restoring order. If all is not quite well, well is on its way.

I am blessed. I am comforted. I am healing. I am thankful for everything.

The Last Gift Of Romance

I rang the bell. Now the girl-in-fur who stole my heart from a bottom cage 11 years ago, lies wrapped in a pink towel under a slab of stone in my backyard. The last several days have been hard. No, make that excruciating. For me, not for my cat. I cried so much my throat is raw. I hardly slept. I made anxiety my constant companion. And all the while, she purred.

In the turmoil and second-guessing and straining to hear her every move, my beloved Romance kept her motorboat running. I spent every possible minute with her, the last 4 days of her life. I lay beside her in the hallway. I cradled her in my lap. I stroked her gently for hours. I sang to her and thanked her and was completely honest with her. I even managed to find a few little things she would eat.

I did everything I could to give her comfort and peace, even if I could not give those same things to myself. As the end was looming and the bell was scheduled to be rung, we faced our last night together. In that good night, I received one of the most beautiful gifts of my life. The gift came from Romance herself.

As I lay down in bed, Romance jumped up and set herself beside me. I started to cry and she started to purr. She put her face less than one inch from mine and continued her purr. The entire night. We lay nose to nose, wide awake. Me, not wanting to miss a split second of this never-before-offered gift, her, seeking mightily to comfort me. She circled me throughout the night, never venturing more than inches away, pressing herself against my thigh when I broke down sobbing at 3am. Never once halting her purr. I don't know where her strength came from, but it came and it lasted and it gave me comfort and peace.

Then came her final gift. As I lifted her into the towel-lined laundry basket for traveling to the vet, she purred. As I put her gently into the car, she purred. As I sang Happy Birthday to her on the ride over, she purred. As she lay on the exam room table, she purred. As I knelt before her and held her sides and whispered, nose-to-nose, "I love you", she purred. As the tranquilizer flowed through her veins and I told her the angels were waiting, she looked me right in the eye and continued to purr. Romance purred for me into unconsciousness.

Just as her heart stopped, an angel whispered to me, "I've got her!" I told the angel to treasure her new gift, to be sure to enjoy those big, pink ears and mismatched eyes, and to know each purr she receives is a blessing and a prayer.

Update: August 10th~ Thank you all for the warm and wonderful comments. Each one has made a positive difference for me. I wrote about my cat in hopes that it may help even one other person face a difficult situation. My recommendation would be to follow your own gut instincts before the advice and possible contradictions of your veterinarian. What most medical professionals do not know is that LOVE is such a powerful energy, it is Universal pain management. Do only what your heart, as connected to your animal, says to do. And for yourself, have a supply on hand of Bach Flower "Rescue Remedy", in the spray bottle. It's calming and clarifying affects allowed me to face the task at hand. Use it for all situations that cause mild panic. www.bachflower.com. Find it at health food stores. Thanks again for the blessings.

A Sweet and White Romance

The clock is ticking. It's winding down. I'm waiting for the final bell to toll. The bell that chimes and ends my long and love-filled days of Romance.

It has been 4 days since my beloved cat, Romance, has chosen to eat. She has told me it is not a matter of if she will go, but when she will go. She has been unhappy since her favorite servant, Rain Dance, went on to new adventures and left her behind. She has cried and begged for food non-stop since May. Then, 2 weeks ago she told me she needed a new companion. Being dutiful to the Queen, I began my search and found her a new subject on the first try. Only, now I understand the new subject was for me all along. Romance had plans and needed to be sure I was taken care of before she could depart.

And so she has become a bag of sweet, little bones, purring and reassuring me God's plan is in order. I am in hospice-mode, doing everything in my power to make her comfortable. Guarding her, kissing her, cleaning her as her bodily functions break down,and keeping water bowls filled. I'm crying buckets too. Through the weepy hours, I remind her of the first mouse she ever slew and dropped so proudly on my bed at 3 am; of her inspiring ability to play with pipe cleaners for hours, of the motor-boat purrs and big pink ears that melted my heart everyday. I remind her how, since the day we found each other, she has filled my life with love and grace for 11 years.

Nature is more wise than me. I am doing my level best to honor the progression of the natural order unfolding in my home. But I am loathe to let some one I love suffer. In posing the question of "what should I do?" to my experienced cat-friend, Lisa, she replied, "She has been with you for a very long time, and if you follow your heart now, you won't be wrong. Listen to her, and listen to yourself, and do whatever you think will bring you both the most peace. Every decision that you make is made with love, and therefore, can't be the wrong choice."

Will I wait for the bell to toll on its own or will I decide to ring it? I don't know in this moment. It is not the moment to decide. I am too weepy and am contemplating my great appreciation for the gifts she gave everyday. But answers will come in one form or another, and Lisa's advice will cradle my heart in these, my last moments of a sweet and white Romance.

Appreciation

July 30th. Less than 8 weeks into its life as resident barn cat on a cow farm, it was dead. Down-soft grey fur crushed on black pavement. I stopped, picked it up, and laid it gently in front of the barn door. I wanted some one to know it had passed. I hoped some one cared enough to shed a tear on its behalf. I asked for its safe passage back to where it began.

This kitten, who I only met after it was dead, left me with a message. The message was this: Appreciate what I have in my life right now. Appreciate who I have in my life right now. This kitten told me to appreciate and notice the gifts that have been with me and the ones that stroll in unexpectedly. Because this life and my circumstances are fleeting. Everything changes. Everything shifts. And before I know it, the scenery will be different, people will have moved on and my allotted time with beautiful energies will be done.

So drink it in, said the spirit of the kitten. Be glad for what I am given, long-term and short term. Embrace and absorb the glory that shines on my life. The 4 minute sighting of the backyard rabbit, the support of friends at work, the laughter of my Oma on her 89th birthday, the rainbows, the butterflies, the international phone calls. Or the not-quite 8 weeks of feline joy, if that were ever to be the case.

If I realize and appreciate the moments of my life right now, the people of my life right now, when they change and shift my mourning will be less and my acceptance will be more. Thoughts of "if only I had..." will not enter my brain. I can be glad for the time and experience I was given without begging and wishing for more. Appreciation for what is, makes what is enough.

{Kitten n a bag is a stock photo image}

Aspects Of God

Nothing heals an aspect of God faster and more thoroughly than the energy of love. You are an aspect of God. Worms are an aspect of God. Sparrows are an aspect of God. Turtles, tulips, trout and trees. All aspects, all extensions, all creations of a Mind we cannot fathom. We, collectively, have trampled, maimed and disrespected more aspects of God than we have shown care for. We have abused and ignored more glory and more free beauty than is sane. Now, we have some apologizing to do. We have amends to make. We have lots of healing to get to. So let's get to it.

First and foremost, every gesture of love towards an aspect of nature puts a big red check mark in the healing column. Simple acts are best, as they are the easiest to repeat over and over and over. What do I mean by simple, you ask? Send a loving thought to the first bird you see tomorrow on your way out the door. What?! You heard me. Tell the bird silently or out loud to have a good day, or that it is beautiful, or that you ask for its safety and blessing. If the salutation is sincere and infused with the under-used energy of your heart, the bird will feel it on some level. Because all aspects of God recognize the energy of love. After all, God is a synonym for love.

Now, don't feel foolish. Remember, I suggested you can send your good wishes silently. No one has to know you're healing the earth just yet. If you look around your little corner of the world, you'll find a gazillion opportunities to shower the natural world with the goodness in your heart. Rub your hands over the grass, caressing the skin of the Mother who holds you up every day. Kiss a flower in your garden, when no one is looking, of course, and honor its beauty. Apologize to the weed before you pull it up. Thank the spirit of the deer or turkey or squirrel before you pull the trigger or release the arrow and take its life to feed yourself. Hug a tree, exchange heartbeats with it, and acknowledge the fact that without trees you would have no air to breathe.

Simple, regular awareness of the natural world, coupled with an energy exchange of love, would reverse a tremendous amount of insult we have heaped on Mother Nature. We are not dominators. We are stewards. The more we practice loving stewardship, the more we act as if our very lives depend on the preservation and respect of nature~ and, Darling, they do~ the quicker the healing takes place. And because you are an aspect of God, just as the turtles and trees are, the love you give out, the love you send forth in blessings and kisses and prayers of thanks, comes back to you multiplied, rarefied and blue-skyed.

{My friend, the Goddess of Love, seen exchanging energy with her favorite weeping beech tree.}

Life in Black and White

Life is full of surprises. Life is not predictable. Life is never black and white, even when it is. There are forces at work behind the scenes of our lives coordinating, canceling, shifting and shuffling us into place for our optimum benefit. These same forces laugh hysterically at our supposed plans and attempts to control our lives. Their lips get a little bit pinched when we are in the throes of trying to control the lives of others. But for the most part, we are sources of endless amusement in their perpetual game of human chess.

I likely amused dozens of unseen chess players with my thought of adopting an orange cat someday. Or maybe not adopting one at all even though my old, pure white girl, Romance, needed the company. My "I'll just window shop for a cat to get warmed up" idea of this past Tuesday brought side-splitting laughter. Because one 6 month old black boy at the Angola, NY ASPCA had other ideas. He was in-cahoots with those behind-the-scene forces. Before I knew what was happening, he was in my arms, nuzzling under my neck, and me with the out-of- nowhere tears in my eyes. He decided to adopt me on the spot and I had no choice but to shift my ideas, shuffle him into a carrier and fill out the paperwork.

One clever cat and one stunned woman drove home to a new life together. Cackles of glee could be heard from the empty backseat. During the ride, the clever cat told me his name was Remmington. But I could call him Remmi for short.

And so began my quick-study in unpredictability and rolling with surprises, my embrace of spontaneity and giving up control. Mr. Remmington is a lover boy, although the Queen of the Castle, Miss Romance, finds him annoying so far. Maybe because he is always in motion. We both sigh with relief when he naps.

Now, my cats are black and white, yet the grey areas, the unknowns, the ain't-no-way-to-have-predicted-this scenarios of my life grow larger. I'm letting go, allowing surprises and finding grey is good. Grey is happy. Grey is where the laughter lies.

The Secret To Love

Love is everywhere. Love is available at all times. Love is what everything and everyone seeks, needs and lives for. But there is a secret to love. A secret to bathing in its effervescent glow. A secret that answers all yearnings and whinings and pinings for love. What is this secret, you say? What is this secret that grants full access to the bath? Get out your pen. The one with indelible ink. Write these words in the palm of your hand:

In order to receive love, you must first give it.

Simple. True. Non-negotiable. And now, here's the second part of the secret. You must give it without expectation of it being returned. You must willingly, and with your whole heart give it. No conditions. No clutching. No wimpy vibes. You must pour it forth from the four-chambered house inside your being, the house where God dwells.

Oh, and there's a third part to this secret. Keep your pen handy.

Be open, so very open you think you might die of exposure, to that energy of love coming back to you from unexpected sources. Unexpected people, representatives of Mother Nature and especially the invisible realms.

Love requires bravery. Courage. Fearlessness. Love requires a strict adherence to your own instincts, particularly in the face of nay-Sayers, doubters and those who wear cranky pants on an all-too-regular basis.

The secret, again, to love? Just give it. Give it. Give it. Give it. I promise it will come back to you in ways and means and wonder you could not have begun to imagine when you first and simply opened your heart.

{"Lovers", by Judy Wise. Up for sale at www.judywise.com. Isn't it beautiful?!}

Honor Your Instincts

Yesterday, while wandering with my camera, I came to a lush, roadside garden. Upon emerging from my car, I noticed a medium-sized snapping turtle slowly inching its way up the garden owner's driveway. It was heading towards the road. It's slow pace afforded me plenty of time to investigate the garden, snap some photos of hollyhocks and still meet it before it reached the road.

Across the road was a field of honey-colored straw, bordered by a shallow ditch of wildflowers. The turtle was intent on reaching the field. I stood by the road side at a comfortable distance from the turtle. This allowed it to feel I was not a threat and to keep its steady pace. I had no idea why the turtle needed to get to the field, but I was going to honor its instinct and guard its passage across the road, waving at oncoming traffic.

When the snapper reached the yellow mid-line in the road, a van pulled up, stopped, and out hopped a woman. "Oh, a snapping turtle!", she exclaimed. Yes, I said, it's crossing over to the field. "Well, there's no water in that field!", she said. "There's water back where it came from. It shouldn't go to the field". And with that, she went right up to the turtle, nudged it with her shoes and forced it to turn around. She duck-walked behind it at a quick pace and ushered it back to where it had begun. She forced it onto the grass and said, "There now, that's better." She gave her hands a satisfied swipe, hopped back into her van and off she went.

There now, that's not better. This woman was not the saviour she felt she was. She intruded on an intent and decision that was not hers to alter. She unknowingly dishonored natural instincts. The instincts implanted in all of God's creations. The instincts turtles, flowers, spiders and humans possess. I have no doubt the snapper would makes its way back across the road to whatever in the field had called it to come. I said a little prayer for its safe passage and went on my way.

If we are deaf to our own instincts, if we regularly dismiss the inner nudges and knowings, we are more likely to interfere in the instinctual lives others are leading. We will impose our snap judgements and advice too quickly. We will unwittingly alter right passage and rights of passage for those we are imposing our will on. We will screw things up for others and cause them to doubt their inner voice. We will cause damage.

Let's assess situations more carefully. Let's stop giving knee-jerk advice that stems from our own bag of fears. Let's honor the nudges and voices within. Let's find out where they lead us. Sometimes we must leave the water and head for the dry fields. Bounty and glory and newness await us. When we honor our own instincts, everyone benefits, everyone is honored.

These Are Fabulous Days

Plans change, hopes get dashed, vacations turn into "staycations" and adjustments must be made. Here I am facing 10 days off from the salt mines and what now to do with my days? Make them fabulous, I say. Renew, explore, contemplate, share. Be glorious and spontaneous. Wander near and wide. Exhaust that simple, little camera from visual, creative explosion. Get back in touch with my Soul.

Breathe. Live. Embrace. Hold every minute as sacred. Continue to follow my heart. Be thankful for how it is.

Black Raspberries

It was the bittersweet taste of black raspberries on a barn wood bench out back;

It was the waning sun and the cerulean sky and the up-turned tail of the confident wren;

It was Nature: the sight, the smell, the sound, the touch and the taste that knit together the wayward threads that threatened to unravel my dreams.

It was Nature and the tiniest, delicate fruit that restored peace and anchored my heart.

Tibetan Prayer Flags

Recently, I hung a string of 25 Tibetan prayer flags in my stairwell. The red, blue, yellow, white and green paper flags welcome me back into the fold of my nest and remind me that life is sacred. They remind me that my thoughts are prayers and that "Lungta" the Windhorse, stamped in gold on each of the squares, is there to carry my prayers to the Universe. Let my prayers be positive. Let my prayers uplift. Let the foundation of my prayers be gratitude.

You who read these words, may you allow your most fervent prayer to manifest in your life.

May you be the hands that grant another their most fervent prayer.

May you be witness to one miracle everyday.

May you allow grace to super cede karma.

May you honor your body as the house of your soul.

May you forgive in order to live more freely.

May you find the strength to say what needs to be said.

May you find peace in uncertainty.

May you be grateful for where you are right now.

May you allow yourself to be loved.

May you fly.

Thursday Night In Mayberry

Here in Mayberry, USA, Thursday night is a big deal. Ball caps, popcorn, blue jeans, fast cars, fuzzy dice and John Mellencamp at full volume. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Cruise Night. Vintage cars, vintage tractors and a slanted row of Harley Davidsons in front of the saloon.

Now, aint' that America.

Girl Power

Time and again, it is my girlfriends who save me from myself. It is my girlfriends who know just what to say or not to say, who encourage me, who hold my hand during the scary parts, who pump my brain full of laughter endorphins. Always and again, I am blessed by and indebted to the women in my life who call me their friend.

From the Sisterhood Of The Flowing Skirts who got Wicked with me two days ago, ate Buffalo's original chicken wings at the Anchor Bar, and meditated on my beach glass-strewn living room floor, to the college roommate from 1982 who talked long distance with me yesterday for 2 hours, to the almost daily "how was your day?" of my 15- year-strong spiritual sister, the self esteem meter is thankfully kept in visible range.

With the world as it is, the feminine energy of love and nurturing and compassion, mixed well with a dash of sass, is the antidote we women need to keep our precious souls inflated. Never underestimate girl power. Never underestimate the alchemy of female friendship. Never underestimate the ability of women to help us defy gravity.

The Week of Moths and Rainbows

Let it be known, the Universe speaks to us, comforts us and bolsters us constantly. At times the signs and whispers are subtle, at times loud, at times glorious and consistent until we understand the message. The message is perpetual: we are loved no matter what.

For the past week, the Universe has been speaking to me. It's voice has been cloaked in colors and frantically fluttering wings. Each day, I have been witness to no less than one rainbow and the saviour to one moth.

The rainbows have been mere splotches in the sky, stitched in and out of clouds, or hand-on-hips full arching watercolor wonders. They have been faint, flaming, violet-edged or full spectrum roy.g.biv. Each one found me at the end of the day and reminded me of a promise. The promise that beauty exists in the storm. That joy comes. That God is ever-present. That grace is given.

The moths were another tale, another message, another reminder. Each night little brown wings haves been trapped in my stairwell. As I would light the lamp outside my door the moth-of-the-moment would earnestly fly out of hiding and dance between me and the light. After much concentration and effort, the moth would find itself in my cupped hands, descending stairs and finally released into the dusk. It's request for freedom granted.

And the message over and over again? I am not trapped. There is a way out. Ask for what I need. Do not be afraid. Freedom is at hand. Love will carry me to the door and set me free..when oh when oh when I calm down, ask and trust the loving heart of God.

Beauty. Joy. Freedom. Grace. Love. Moths and Rainbows. Light. If you need any of it, just ask. The Universe will answer until the message is clear.

{The moth is a stock photo, the rainbow is mine.}