I’m listening to the sounds of rain, grateful, though it means a neighbor’s beloved oak tree fell yesterday. The photos show a soft fall as though the tree simply paused in overseeing and came down to gentle rest. That’s how I view this day. The rain is cleansing and watering my roots, as I pause, and reaching horizontally rather than vertically allow my path to rest.
It is only with total humility and in absolute stillness of mind that we can know what indeed we are.
– Wei Wu Wei
We enjoyed a beautiful holiday celebration and then I caught this respiratory cold that’s circulating around so today is a quiet day, a day of stillness and rest. I have no expectation which is a lovely and freeing place to be.
The release of expectation is motivated by and supported by these words of Shunryu Suzuki:
When we do not expect anything, we can be ourselves. That is our way, to live fully in each moment of time. This practice continues forever.
I’m also resonating and sinking into these words of Br. David Steindl-Rast:
May you grow still enough to hear the small noises earth makes in preparing for the long sleep of winter, so that you yourself may grow calm and grounded deep within.
While some are caught in snow, others nestle inside.
It’s a time to gather and twine as we sink more tenderly, deeply, and clearly within.
Marion Woodman:
If we could allow the pace of our meetings to slow down to the pace of our hearts, we might find genuine understanding.
I’m making cookies with mint. I thought mint might be too strong a taste for my three year old grandson but he is clear and announces: I like mint! That he knows because he had his first candy cane this year.
Because he celebrates Hanukkah and Christmas, he informs me today “I have a lot of toys.” That announcement occurs before this year’s Christmas gifts and Santa’s slide down the chimney.
I think of giving and how we want to give and this little fellow has a multitude of people who want to give to him, and so he learns to give and receive. He tells me excitedly that he has gifts to bring to our Christmas celebration, specially chosen gifts to give. I know he was included in the shopping, choosing and wrapping.
Our family celebrates two days, Christmas Eve and Christmas day, and as I pause to meditate on the returning light and the joy of the season, I give thanks. May this new year bring sweetness and tenderness to All even as we understand that includes speaking out and working for what we know is right for the planet and ourselves, all One!
Fragance and joy to All!!
While waiting in a parking lot for a friend to drive me to the Sausalito ferry for a gathering in the city, I heard a noise behind me. There was a young buck with tiny antlers. We hung out together while he nibbled, and then a second appeared with bigger antlers, and then a third with even more branching.
Today I read about a mother who fulfilled her daughter’s childhood dream by building an animal sanctuary in her memory.
From the article in the Washington Post today:
Most days, first-grader Catherine Violet Hubbard could be found roaming the yard of her Newtown, Conn., home — the place where, accompanied by her pets, she’d discover a whole universe of critters and bugs to adore. Almost like a princess in a Disney movie, she’d whisper to the animals to tell their friends that she was nice, in hopes that they’d come in droves to visit her.
Ever since she was born in 2006, Catherine had a burning passion for animals, her mother, Jenny Hubbard, told The Washington Post. By the time she turned 5, Catherine had already decided she wanted to be an animal sanctuary caretaker when she grew up. But on Dec. 14, 2012, she was one of 20 children and six adults killed inside Sandy Hook Elementary.
The freckle-faced girl with bright red locks was just 6 years old. And though Catherine never got to be a teenager or see her life’s wishes come true, Hubbard has made it her mission to fulfill them. On Wednesday — exactly 10 years after the school shooting — Hubbard will break ground on the Catherine Violet Hubbard Animal Sanctuary, a nonprofit meant to foster the bond between humans and animals. The sanctuary will provide veterinary care, educate visitors and serve as a migration space for hummingbirds, bees and other pollinators.
I watch a video of a newly born baby, sleeping, gurgling, a little peep of adjustment here and there. What is it to be born, to be thrust out of a womb after nine months of containment?
Isn’t it happening all the time, these waves spreading and shared?
Surprise is the seed of gratefulness. Become aware of surprise. Relish surprise as life’s gift.
Br. David-Steindl-Rast:
A friend was able to be with a friend as she passed away, not with her in person but through technology. She said the woman, a very spiritual person, literally became radiant in the last hours. I look at the clarity in the light this morning, as though it tilts down like a slide for us to climb, beckoning.
One more week of deepening into the dark, into reflection and memory, and then we immerse in the return of young light. We emerge to release and reform what matters to us now and now and now!
We’ve been delighting in rain, rain, rain, and then yesterday despite sprinkles, we headed out with our three year old grandson to Muir Beach. He chattered all along the way, both coming and going, and then, we crossed the bridge, and heard the waves, and then saw the bliss of a winter-time beach when the sun shines down and warms the wet sand to a perfect consistency for sand castles and construction for roads for boats.
I’m reveling in memories as I pull out recipes and decorations. The weather adds to the mood as it’s cold and rainy. We’ll have a fire in the fireplace tonight. Candles are lit and music is playing.
My sons and I, and now my grandson, love the scented book The Sweet Smell of Christmas. Grandson is coming to stay with us, so I’ve filled the house with scent: pumpkin pie, pine, candy canes, and oranges. Grandson and his dad made gingerbread cookies today so they arrive tomorrow with the scent of ginger and spice. Lights are twinkling around the windows and along the fireplace mantel and in my heart.
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