this night may the Creator of this sweet flower bending in the gentle breeze bless all who are … living in fear because of Hurricane Dorian … experiencing hurt by their church … terrified by predictions of climate change … living with chronic illness … dealing with financial uncertainty … awaiting word from the doctor … hungry, hungry, hungry … on their way to the ER … unable to sleep … experiencing grief … facing an unknown tomorrow … dealing with chronic pain … have no place to live … living in fear of extradition
somehow sense they are loved
somehow sense some one, some where, this night is praying, hoping, envisioning a better night than was last night
The leaves are beginning to fall to the ground and slowly are beginning to change colour. It’s almost Autumn/Fall in this part of the world. It’s a beautiful time and a gentle reminder of the Seasons of Life for both vegetation … and human beings.
Like the four seasons of Nature, human beings also have four seasons and each Season of Life has its own beauty.
For those of us in the Autumn/Fall Season of our lives, there are times when we feel alive and vibrant in our body, mind and spirit. There are other times when we recognize the withering of skin, the creaking of bones, the aching of muscles, the forgetfulness that often comes with the aging process.
We don’t want to ‘ignore’ the signs that we are aging. And we don’t want to ‘focus solely’ on these signs. We want balance in our lives. So how can we achieve that balance between focusing only on the signs and ignoring the signs? Perhaps we could let trees be our teacher.
When leaves of a tree change colour, some leaves remain their original colour. When we see our skin texture change, the twinkle that has always been in our eye, still remains.
When leaves begin to fall, not all leaves fall at the same time. When we find it difficult to rise from a chair or sofa, the stiffness we feel usually doesn’t remain with us for the rest of the day.
Trees can offer wonderful advice as this unknown author noted: “Stand tall and proud. Go out on a limb. Drink plenty of water. Remember your roots. Be content with your natural beauty. Enjoy the view.”
STAND TALL AND PROUD May each of us “stand tall and proud” – keeping good posture and acknowledging the strengths we bring.
GO OUT ON A LIMB May we remember to “go out on a limb” – speak up, speak out, for what we believe.
DRINK PLENTY OF WATER May we keep hydrated with plenty of clean water, as well as hydrate our mind by being open to opportunities for personal growth.
REMEMBER YOUR ROOTS May we remember our roots and the lessons our family tree have taught (good or bad), for there is learning in both positive and negative experiences.
BE CONTENT WITH YOUR NATURAL BEAUTY May we find acceptance and contentment in who and Whose we are.
ENJOY THE VIEW May we fully enjoy the view of this world … taking in its beauty, learning from its ugliness, being resolute in our determination to make a difference in some small way.
Thank you trees, for mentoring us in the aging process.
A gentle walk along a rural path brought forth images of summers long ago when a swing under the huge cherry tree in our back yard provided countless hours of relaxation and fun for one little boy – my son.
As he swung, his feet would move back and forth to maintain a rhythm, and he would hum, hum ever so quietly to himself. He was content with life. Content with himself. Happy.
His world was peaceful, safe, gentle.
But for countless children around the world, their world is anything but peaceful, or safe or gentle. And they are anything but content or happy.
That’s not fair. That’s not right. That’s not the way the Universe is supposed to unfold. And it not only saddens me, it makes me angry.
So I dream.
I dream of a time when all children are safe from abuse.
I dream of a time when parents take parenting classes when they discover they are expecting a baby.
I dream of a time when children go to school where they will learn the basics of language, mathematics, science, history, civics, geography, social responsibility and where they will be exposed to physical education, the arts and play.
I dream of a time when children arrive to school well-fed and ready to learn.
I dream of a time when parents are offered support when they need it.
I dream of a time when teachers are educated, respected, well paid, and supported.
I dream of a time when children are safe … safe at home, safe at school, safe in their communities.
I will continue to dream.
And I will act by exercising my right to vote and vote for candidates to provide laws that protect, educate nourish and nurture children so that they can live with clean air; clear water; nourishing food; safe homes, schools and communities; responsible parents; and freedom.
Once upon a time … there was a cat. She was abandoned. Pregnant. Again. Unloved. Unwanted.
She had no name. Her owners didn’t want to pay to have her spayed. They dropped her off at the SPCA without any information about her age or medical situation. And then I met her.
She’d just had her last kitten taken from her that morning. In a week’s time, after her milk dried up, she would be put up for adoption by the SPCA.
I gently put my hand in her cage. Let it sit there so she could get my scent. Immediately, she began to nuzzle my hand. And purred. And purred. And purred. The SPCA worker said “She’s chosen you, you know.” And so she had.
No surprise what happened next … I adopted her. Sweet, 2 1/2 year old tabby cat, she had no name. What I knew of her life was sparse. I knew that her before-life-with-me had not been easy. I knew that she needed serenity in her life. I named her Serenity.
Gentle and serene, mischievous and playful, coy and curious, determined to go outside (I, just as determined that she would not), she has incredible agility. She makes me smile and laugh and talk out loud to her and even sing to her! My love for Serenity grew. And it grew quickly.
It didn’t take long for Serenity to adjust to her new surroundings. It didn’t take long for the two of us to adjust to one another because when love enters a relationship adjustment quickly happens.
But … so did my allergic reactions to her quickly happen.
When I adopted her, I knew allergic responses could be a possibility, even though I’d been getting monthly allergy inoculations for more than five years. The allergist said “You might be able to have a cat now, but the only way to see if you can have a cat is to get a cat.”
When Serenity came home with me, I tried to ignore the allergic symptoms and did what I could to counteract them: replaced the old vacuum, purchased an air purifier, kept her out of my bedroom.
But the symptoms didn’t go away. My throat itched. My eyes were watery. My chest/lungs became congested. I coughed more and more in spite of the allergy shots, antihistamines, oh-so-clean house and circulating air in the house. The symptoms remained. But my love for Serenity did not wane.
That love seemed to grow, day by day. And with each passing day, I knew that my love for her would continue to grow deeper and deeper as time passed as I would become more and more attached to her and she would become more and more attached to me.
I was right. We bonded very quickly.
As the allergic symptoms increased, I realized that I had to find another home for her, and sooner than later, because of how quickly we had bonded.
Perhaps, in another couple of years, the allergy shots will have “done their thing” or scientists will have finished their testing on a substance that can be added to cats’ food and remove allergic symptoms for human beings and allergic responses won’t become a barrier to having a cat. When that happens, I will adopt again. But that is in the future. Serenity was here now.
The question remained: “Where could Serenity go where she would be loved and cared for as much as she is here with me?” I checked with my son and DIL. Both animal lovers, they have a dog and a cat (Pepper), but since Pepper’s sibling died, Pepper has had moments of aggression. They were concerned for Serenity’s well-being. They wanted to take her, but …
So I kept praying. I kept thinking about possibilities.
And then, an unexpected email arrived came from a FB friend. “It’s been lovely to follow Serenity’s settling with you, and I’m so sad that your allergies are potentially a barrier to a comfortable life together … You said that your family weren’t able to take Serenity. If you feel that you need to re-home her, keep me in mind … It’s a hard decision, I know!”
Understatement! But, I knew that I did need to re-home Serenity. I wrote my friend. She wrote back. We exchanged photos. We continued to email.
In my heart of hearts, I knew that re-homing her was the best solution to my allergic response to her … not only would she be loved, but she would have a playmate, Scout, who has been grieving the loss of his playmate since March. And so the decision was made and a date was set for Serenity and her new mom, Brigid, to meet. August 7th was the day. Today.
Early this morning, I skipped my time at the pool and stayed home to play with Serenity. And play we did! It was such fun! And then it was time to say farewell.
Her new mom, Brigid, arrived. She spent some time with Serenity, we had a visit and shared tea together – and then it as time for them to leave if they were to catch the next ferry to the Mainland.
When Serenity left, her Cat Tree went with her. How she loved it – playing, scratching, sleeping and cavorting with her catnip mouse and colourful ribbon wand. It was a very long car ride and when Brigid wrote to say that they were home and that Serenity spent most of the car ride “sitting happily on her cat-tree,” I was so happy that I’d asked Brigid if she could take Serenity’s Tree. After Serenity and Brigid left, I went back into the house. The house was so quiet and empty. It was too difficult to be there, so I turned around and went out to do errands. And then I came home again … to the oh-so-empty house.
Grief is real. And it hurts. But this I know: Serenity’s soon-to-be-playmate and Serenity’s new mom will bless Serenity’s life. This I also know – Serenity will bless their lives. And knowing both of these things helps my sadness … a little.
Go with my love, dear Serenity. You have brought so much joy and so many blessings into my life in such a short time. To say how much I miss you … words fail.
Why do we allow society to dictate what is beautiful … of value … worthwhile … and what is not?
For me, Reginald reflects Margaret Wolfe Hungerford’s famous words that “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
I know – Reginald is plain, ordinary. Some have told me that Reginald is ugly.
It’s true … his legs are bowed. … his arms are pudgy. … his ears are big. … his body is out of shape. … his eyes bulge. … his ears are large – very large. … he’s the size of a three year old and his clothes are all hand-me-downs. … his neck is short and almost non-existent. His mouth is – well …
But, for more than three decades, I have loved Reginald.
… he speaks words that penetrate deep to the heart of the hearer when he preaches … he makes me laugh … he listens with intentionality and concentration … he …
Well, there’s just sooooo much that I love about him.
Ugly? Not at all!
To everyone who meets him, he is a delight. He helps people forget their worries and fears. He brings smiles to their faces. One Christmas Eve, he appeared in the pulpit of a church … literally “in” the pulpit — sitting on top of the lectern. People listened. People learned. People loved. In him, people saw beauty.
Reginald is not a human being. He was created in a day-long puppet-making workshop. When I had sewn on his last arm and began to put clothes on him, other participants laughed. They said he was ugly and that my creation was “anything but creative or artistic.” They were wrong.
I look at Reginald and I see beauty. I look at my family and I see beauty. I look at my neighbourhood and I see beauty. I look at my friends and I see beauty. I look at this world and I see beauty.
Why do we allow society to dictate what is beautiful, of value, worthwhile … and what is not?
Why do some people have difficulty seeing themselves as a precious child of the universe who is blessed – who has gifts to share … beauty to reflect … intelligence to use … wisdom to impart, while at the same time, much yet to learn?
The Creator does not make junk.
The Creator makes beauty — and Reginald helps me remember to look at the world and all who inhabit it, in a special way.
Beauty. It is all around. We just need eyes to see.
Thank you, Reginald, for helping us all see beauty.
I like words.
I like the way they sound.
I like what I learn when I research their origin.
And I like how my heart and mind respond as I reflect on words
… like this word: susurrus.
I find it to be a delicious word.
It means ‘a whispering, hum or gentle rustling sound’
and is often represented by a feather.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to experience a susurrus
… a whispering of “hang in there”
… a feather of “hope is on its way”
… a hum of “you are not alone.”
When I think of people dealing with
actions of terrorists
undergoing surgery
living with pain
dying
being tortured
separation from loved ones
abusive situations
in fear of their lives
addiction, mental illness, grief
fear about the future of Planet Earth because of climate change
struggling to understand how their government leader can be anything but a leader of compassion, generosity of spirit, respect
my spirit groans.
To each of those people, known and unknown
may they receive this night
a susurrus of respite from the distress;
a whisper, a hum, a feather of hope and healing
that will lighten burdens, reduce fear, eliminate a sense of hopelessness.
Are you in the mood for a lovely bed-time (or anytime) story? I am. And here it comes. 🙂
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who, with her parents, had been to the local SPCA at least five times in the past month. The volunteer asked “What is it she keeps looking for?”
“Puppy size!” replied the mother
“Well, we have plenty of puppies, if that’s what she’s looking for.”
“We have seen most of them, ‘ the mom said in frustration. Just then, the little girl came walking into the office. “Did you find one?” asked her mom.
“No, not this time,” replied the little girl with sadness in her voice. “Can we come back on the weekend?” The two women looked at each other, shook their heads and laughed and the volunteer said – “You never know when we will get more dogs. Unfortunately, there’s always a supply.”
The little girl took her mother by the hand and headed to the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll find one this weekend,” she said.
Over the next few days, both Mom and Dad had long conversations with her. They both felt she was being too particular. “It’s this weekend or we’re not looking any more,” Dad finally said in frustration.”
“We don’t want to hear anything more about puppy size, either,” Mom added. Sure enough, they were the first ones in the shelter on Saturday morning. By now, the little girl knew her way around, so she ran right for the section that housed the smaller dogs. Tired of the routine, her mom sat in the small waiting room at the end of the first row of cages. There was an observation window so the animals could be seen during times when visitors weren’t permitted inside.
The little girl walked slowly from cage to cage, kneeling periodically to take a closer look. One by one the dogs were brought out and she held each one. One by one she said, “Sorry, but you’re not the one.”
It was the last cage on this last day in search of the perfect pup. The volunteer opened the cage door and the child carefully picked up the dog and held it closely. This time she took a little longer. “Mom, this i’s it! I found the right puppy! He’s the one! I know it!” she screamed with joy. “It’s the puppy size!?
:But it’s the same size as all the other puppies you held over the last few weeks,” her mom said.
“No, not size… the sighs. When I held him in my arms, he sighed,” she said.
“Don’t you remember? When I asked you one day what love is, you told me love depends on the sighs of your heart. The more you love, the bigger the sigh!”
The two women looked at each other for a moment. Mom didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. As she stooped down to hug the child, she did a little of both.
“Mom, every time you hold me, I sigh. When you and Daddy come home from work and hug each other, you both sigh. I knew I would find the right puppy if it sighed when I held it in my arms,” she said.
Then, holding the puppy up close to her face, she said, “Mom, he loves me. I heard the sighs of his heart!”
And with that, the little girl and her mom completed the paperwork and the three of them left and went home.
The End.
**************************** And now – a suggestion — how about closing your eyes for a moment and thinking about the love that has made, makes, you sigh … perhaps it’s in arms of loved ones, in the caress of a sunset, the kiss of the moonlight, the gentle brush of cool air on a hot day, the whisper of a child or beloved pet, snuggling close to you, the warm bath waters at night soaking away the aches and pains so you can rest a bit better at night?
Perhaps those moments are the love-sighs of God.
May we take the time to stop and listen, for we may be surprised at what we hear, for “Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” <Helen Steiner Rice>
May our lives be filled with love-sighs. Lots of them – in unexpected ways. 🙂 June Maffin
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This particular Soulistry blog post is based on “Puppy Size” (author: unknown). Puppy Photo (photographer: unknown)
“How do I return the joy you’ve given me?” That question stopped me in my tracks. I had no idea that anything I had done or said had brought my friend ‘joy.’
The question kept repeating in my head and had me thinking about the essence of joy … the ‘who, what, why, when, where, how’ of it:
… what is joy?
… who receives joy?
… when do people receive joy?
… where does joy come from?
… why isn’t joy experienced all the time?
… how does joy appear?
For many, joy seems to be elusive. Personal hardship and circumstances, political corruption and moral malfeasance seem to be draining joy from souls.
While joy may seem to be elusive, it doesn’t need to disappear.
Swiss theologian, Karl Barth, said that “joy is the simplest form of gratitude.” When I am focused on what is missing, when I center-in on what frustrates or angers or hurts me, I am less able to see the whole picture and less able to experience the joy in what I see, smell, taste, touch, experience, feel.
A smile from a stranger, brings joy.
A group of flowers, a solitary flower, brings joy.
A kind word or act, brings joy.
Sounds, sights, smells, tastes, touches – can bring me joy and arouse my sense of joy
– the sound of … children at play, a kitten’s purr, music
– the smell of … fresh bread coming out of the oven, lemon-anything, a baby fresh from the bath, a sprig of lavender, oil paint-about-to-go-on-canvas
– the taste of … a hot fudge sundae, turkey dinner, hot chocolate on a cold/rainy day, peaches-and-cream corn on the cob
– the gentle touch of … a comforting hand when in pain, a loving partner’s embrace, a heartfelt “I missed you” hug
– the sight of … home, smiles, colour anywhere, my son, art in all its expressions, libraries with books to read, mountains and oceans and fields of flowers and skies and landscapes and …
And then there are the ‘take-for-granted’ joys … until they are no longer with us: breath, mobility, speech, communication, senses, health, memory, family, friends.
Well-known for his work in comparative mythology and religion, Joseph Campbell encouraged people to “find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.”
May we “burn out the pain” of personal and societal stresses and “find a place inside where there’s joy.”
May we be open to joy’s transformation of common days into daily thanksgivings, routine jobs into privileges, and ordinary opportunities into extraordinary blessings.
How many of us live perfect lives? … lives that are free from stress, devoid of unpleasantness? … lives without people who are disrespectful, hateful, sarcastic, prejudiced? … lives without experiencing fear … of anything … anyone … any situation? … lives without a disability of some kind be that physical, intellectual, emotional, spiritual?
Not one of us.
We all stumble at one time or another.
Hopefully, when we do (in spite of whatever hurdles, barriers, curveballs life, weather, people, or heredity sends our way), we will do so as part of the dance of life, remembering that science has proven that dancing is good for the body, good for the mind, good for the soul.
When we stumble, may we make it part of our dance of life.
