Tenderness

Because many of us are affected by this time of bombardment from world events outside of us, events we hear or read about, it’s a time to be tender with ourselves, to cultivate and allow inner knowing and, in that, to respond with nourishing calm.  

Rather than closing our hearts to so much pain, or becoming debilitated by it, we can let our hearts break open and allow energy and life to move through us, as us.

We can be the example we want to see in the world.  

Thich Nhat Hanh who had to flee Vietnam wrote: “When the crowded Vietnamese refugee boats met with storms or pirates, if everyone panicked all would be lost. But if even one person on the boat stayed calm and centered it was enough. They showed the way for everyone to survive.”

A gift of tomatoes from my neighbor’s garden
Iris are in bloom
Clear bats from the belfry of our mind

Tender with Ease

Fog and sun balance on the ridge.  I feel balanced this morning, grounded.  I walked with a friend yesterday afternoon/evening embraced by the trunks of redwoods.  We watched the sun set and the nearly full moon move like a ship in the sky.

I read about how we need quiet, silence, how quiet places are being developed where people can pay and be taught how to listen.  We’re so bombarded with noise that we’ve forgotten how to listen. I listen now, the only sounds the clicking of my keys when I type, my stomach growling requesting nourishment, and birds.  All is still except the slow movement of pink fog. I feel myself pulled on its exploration, its ease. Sometimes it rushes in but this Sunday morning all is quiet.

My brother was born on July 17, so would have been sixty-six in three days.  My mother who passed in 2005 would have been 92 on July 16. What is it about birthdays even when the person is gone that strikes a match inside?  I’m tender, tender today, tender with ease.

Sacred
The evening view from my friend’s home

The moon, a beacon in the sky