I admit it, I’m a KISSer … KISS philosopher … KISS theologian … KISS human being a believer in living an approach to life reflective of “Keep It Simple, Sweetheart.”
The Apache Blessing’ resonates with my spirit: “May the sun … bring new energy by day. May the moon … softly restore by night. May the rain … wash away worries. May the breeze … blow new strength into your being. And may you walk gently through the world and know its beauty all the days of your life.”
The Blessing was supposedly written in 1947 by Elliott Arnold in his Western novel ‘Blood Brother’ and popularized by the 1950 adaptation of the novel in ‘Broken Arrow,’ a movie by screenwriter Albert Maltz. Whatever its original source, I love its simplicity and message.
May the simple gifts of sun, moon, rain and wind bless us in ways we cannot ask or imagine in terms of peace, hope, healing and goodness.
Mmmmmm, what new challenges will be placed before me?
What new friends will I encounter?
Where will this month lead my creative soul?
How will I respond to the “still, small Voice within”?
What learning will there be if I
… respond
… face the challenges
… listen to that Voice within
… consider possibilities
What learning will there be if I
… don’t respond
… don’t face the challenges
… don’t listen to that Voice
… don’t consider possibilities
and see only problems?
Problems.
There will always be problems
of some sort or another.
As I looked through the patio door, I saw her. Ms. Squirrel.
She was eating the seed I’d put out for the birds. I grabbed my purse and muttered “I see you! Those seeds are *not* yours! They’re for the birds. Your food is over there.”
Did she listen to me? Of course not. She was on a mission. She needed to find food to store for the winter.
So Ms. Squirrel stuffed seeds into her cheek pouches and stuffed some more and more and more quickly. Very quickly.
As I quietly inched my way closer to the patio door to take her photo she stopped looked up waited. I stopped moving.
Not sensing danger, Ms. Squirrel began to stuff her pouches with more and more and more and more quickly. Very quickly.
I inched forward a bit more, camera poised. Ms Squirrel stopped, looked up. Waited. I stopped moving.
We danced this dance for a minute or two and before she darted away I took her photo.
Today, Ms. Squirrel came for a visit. She stuffed her cheek pouches and brought a huge smile to my face.
She also brought a reminder ‘winter is coming’ and
many will be hungry.
Not just squirrels or birds. Our local Food Banks will need us.
Thank you for your visit, today, Ms. Squirrel and your gentle reminder.
It rained yesterday. Oh how it rained and rained and rained. We really needed it!
And this lovely rose from the garden raised its sweet head, welcomed the raindrops and smiled, blessing me with its beauty, its colour, its sweet scent.
A gentle reminder from the Universe that even in the midst of rainy/difficult times, there is beauty.
May I always look for the beauty and be given the grace to see it.
We can’t change the minds of all who are opposed to getting vaccinated or think the pandemic is a hoax, but maybe the following will give encouragement and be a reminder that love shared with one another can impact the hearts of family and friends … one at a time.
This is a true story shared by a friend. Though the actual conversation wasn’t recorded, it’s close to what transpired and the outcome actually happened.
He said “I want to come and visit. I miss my family! How about I come next weekend?”
She replied “We’d love to see you. But, you know that we are vaccinated, have an eight year old who cannot be vaccinated. Mom is 79 and we’ve decided no one comes into our home who isn’t fully vaccinated. Let us know when you’re fully vaccinated and we’ll find a date that works. We’re looking forward to seeing you again, too.”
He said “I don’t believe in that pandemic stuff. It’s just like the flu. I don’t need to get vaccinated.”
She replied “It’s your decision. We’d love to see you, but won’t until you are fully vaccinated.”
He said … after a long silence “Are you serious?”
She replied … “Yes.”
He said “I’m family. You don’t want to see me? What about Thanksgiving and Christmas and Mom’s 80th birthday?”
She replied “It’s your decision.”
He’d had a similar conversation with her husband, many times and continued to refuse to get vaccinated. This time was somehow different.
Several days later, he phoned and said “Okay. I’ve made the appointment. I’m getting my first vaccination on Monday. Let’s talk about a visit at Thanksgiving.”
And that is how it can be done. One way to change hearts and minds … one at a time.
The wind blows. Floods and rising waters continue their devastating invasion. Smoke from nearby fires is frighteningly strong. Lungs ache. Eyes burn. Breathing is compromised. Evacuations continue. Families fear losing their homes, livestock, pets, livelihoods, lives. Those who survived the fires now face homelessness, poverty, an uncertain future. Painful tears.
The wind howls. People frantically trying to get into an airport and on a plane to safety. People huddle together, stranded on the tarmac in the hopes that they will be able to get on a plane that will rescue them from death, rape, torture. Painful tears.
The wind resurfaces. New strains of the pandemic virus erupt, overloading hospitals, exhausting front line workers, terrifying parents of children under the age of twelve unable to be vaccinated, causing polarization in families where some decide to be vaccinated and others decide the pandemic is a hoax. Painful tears.
The wind changes direction. Young men and women brought to their new country as babies or children face deportation. Infants, toddlers, children, youth, separated from their parents continue to be incarcerated, uncared for, unprotected, terrified. Painful tears.
The wind that has blown for decades continues to blow in new ways as unmarked graves of children in residential schools are found – as memories of childhood experiences of abuse in residential schools bubble to the surface with the discovery of the graves – as the reality of murdered and missing indigenous women continues to sink in. Painful tears.
The wind still blows. People are standing up, speaking out, making their opposition known, not only in peaceful ways, but in not-so-peaceful ways. Nuclear threats beg the ‘is war on the horizon?’ question. Ordinary citizens ask why the law seems to serve and protect the most powerful, but not the vulnerable, not the land, not the environment. Painful tears.
The wind of ill-health continues to disrupt lives. Addiction, chronic illness, mental illness, overdoses, accidents, loneliness, aging, grief, and increase rents that are impossible to meet forcing businesses to close, people out of their homes and on to the streets. Lives, finances, health and relationships are compromised. Painful tears.
Painful tears continue to fall from eyes, covering faces and continue to fall from hearts, covering souls as the sacrifice of those who died, so there might be life and freedom to vote and express opinions, often seems lost in rhetoric and anger. Painful tears.
Tears. Far too many painful tears at this time of fires and floods, rape and torture, hurricanes and starvation, earthquakes and tornadoes, political lies and abuse of power.
May painful tears be diminished by naming the fears (not letting them fester, or stifle conversation) about global warming/climate change, the pandemic, bullying, abuse, political decisions … and by taking action.
Let painful tears flow and motivate to let in Light.
Photo & Text © June Maffin