Listening to the “receiver”.

This last week I’ve been listening to the still small voice inside me that says, “receive”. Instead of taking each moment as a “what do I have to do?” moment, or a “what should I give out right now?” moment, I’ve been allowing a more quiet, subtle gift to breathe into my pores. “Receive”. I find that when I open myself to receiving, I am able to take in the gifts that are available in the delectable now. Gifts like acceptance, beauty, openness, and possibility. I have also found that when I breathe in the “receiving air”, I am miraculously able to give better! I know that sounds counterintuitive, but as a “receiver”, I’m able to take in others’ words, thoughts, and actions much more “present-momently” (my own vernacular), and that is a gift.

(beautiful image by ScottMillsArt)

Slow Food for Thought

 

(beautiful art by Loren Webster)

 

Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain
When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,
Taking time to open the well of color
That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.
Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.
Learn to linger around someone of ease
Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,
Having learned a new respect for your heart
And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

– John O’Donohue

“Slow time” is a pair of words I like to linger within, when I can remember to slow down long enough to do so. It reminds me of a Japanese phrase- “mono no aware”- the heightened, yet transient ahh-ness of things. What comes to mind right away when I think about this are lifecycle moments: a peony at its peak, ready to drip its plethora of petals, a moist forest carpeted with the plums and browns of decaying leaves just before the snows come in, or a young fawn on spindly legs still speckled with the soft signs of just being born. I remember having just discovered the term “mono no aware” on a hot summer day in Palm Springs, California. Looking up at the sky for the first time with this new awareness gave me such a fresh perspective. It brought me immediately into a place of gladness, presence, and the present. How long would the sky remain that shade of blue? When would that cloud formation change into a new form? I didn’t know, but in that moment, I granted myself the time to appreciate every second before me- each tinge of perfection and change in its own current and unique state. I had somehow entered into “slow time”.

A Fresh Morning Perspective from a Friend

Jpeg

I asked the whitebark pine

 

a question, and he said to me,

“aren’t you glad we don’t all talk?”

And in silence he spoke:

a million voices whining, droning in

each other’s ears like a carnival madhouse?

Each leaf, each tendril, each rooty spine spinning

sounds, yabba, yabba, yabba, yabba.

The quiet madness of the mosquito multiplied

more than a million times over?

Aren’t you glad some of us convey

by bark, by bearing, by Being?

Aren’t you glad some of us commune

in the quiet witness of Living?

 

and in Silence, I understood.

 

• Gina Marie Mammano

An Earth Day Meditation from a Friend

I’ve seen my share of technicolor rainbows in recent months. Late last summer, I took a rainy hike up slippery rock to an Iron Age fort, Dun Aonghasa, on Inishmore, one of the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland. A slight break in the weather treated me and my traveling companions to a […]

via Rainbow Invitation — heartlandlistening

A Sky-full of Possible

It is a grey flannel day in the Pacific Northwest- the sun once again decided to hide its head under a dark cloudy January blanket for the past few days. My body is creaking and complaining at the sounds of the alarm, the too-many steps, and the uncomfortably cold downstairs kitchen, also yawning its complaints. The mandate among the marinade of busy-ness these days always seems to be, “breathe”. I want to take this a couple of steps further. “Stop. Breathe. Say, ‘yes’.”

This takes an extra moment or two, but I find it extends the breath into the realm of the possible. And it could be a small “yes”- a very small “yes”, or a big one. “Yes” to whatever you can right in front of you. “Yes! there is a hot pot of coffee in front of me.” “Yes, this day, no matter in how many ways I have to give it away, is mine.” “Yes, I can take a minute out here, a small section of time there to find myself, and enjoy what I find.” Yes to a conversation. Yes to a short section of reading you’ve been wanting to begin. Yes to yourself. Since having surgery, I’m learning to have to say “yes” more and more. “Yes, I need to move.” “Yes, I need to stay still.” “Yes, I need this time for myself, so will need to call this person back later.”

You may find, as I have, that slowing down, and considering your “yes” can lead to a sky-full of possible.

“Ordinary” Wrapped up in Extraordinary

We continue to edge deeper into the holiday season, leaving the green grass and gentle breezes of ordinary time behind. This is not to say there has not been the extraordinary, both beautiful and excruciatingly challenging within the reeds and gentle winds, but the temperature is now dramatically changing. The challenge now is to find the “ordinary” within the extraordinary. The small spaces in the largely decorated places. The remembrance of warm cups of coffee and a glint of sunlight amongst a big season, loud, wonderfully in-your-face season.

I hope to be able to hold hands with both “the biggies”- the extraordinary, and the ordinary things that come my way. These are a few ways I might try:

– biggie: buy and write out cards   -ordinary: brew a hot cup of tea and let the card                                                            writing last for 1 1/2 hours instead of 1- moving a                                                        little bit slowly and nourishing the process

-biggie: shop for presents online    -ordinary: stop and read a great passage from a                                                           inspiring book, chew on it for a few moments,                                                             even have a conversation about it with someone

-biggie: try to use up all the Thanksgiving leftovers in the refrigerator

-ordinary: re-member how each dish was shared, people’s reactions to it, mine as well, and incorporate it into a new dish, now re-imagined with memory and gratitude.

May you make the ordinary feel extraordinary in the gratitude of the moment.