Collected Oneness

We are not flat nor our lives a collection of linear stages to be checked off. It is a blind bending of knowing to see otherwise. We must feel it first to see, opening our inner eyes of sensing like a child of wonder. Look.... what do you see?

 
Roses of differing stages of a life cycle? The crisp bright pinkness of newness next to the brown wilted flower of old? And all of that which is the "in-between"? Or do you see it as a oneness? Existing together in a single moment with multiple dimensions in a circular movement, coming forth from a single stem connected to a rosebush with many other branches, many other roses?

Look.....what do you see?

Dappled Light

It's mid-September and some of the most glorious days in the garden. The earth has tilted some. The morning sun barely peeks out from the top of the trees, skirting along throwing dappled light upon my garden that moves over me in shadowed patches as a breeze comes through now and then. The dappled light dances upon the stone pathways, and as I sit on the warm stone it feels as if I have been integrated into an Impressionist painting. The boundaries of stone, earth, light, plants, and air melt and my body feels warm and blanketed with a deep sense of peace and belonging.

Sorting it Out

I have so often told my friends and family that it takes time to adjust to change. Usually two months on average maybe longer. Why then do I feel the urgent need to "be okay" now. Why do I not heed my own advice?  Do I think I'm some super human exempt from time and its constraints? I have less control than I would like to think. It takes time to sort things out. You have to give yourself that time.

I had brushed up along the path the mulch from the bed that had accumulated over time, washed down by rains and wind. Along with the pile of mulch came some stones mixing into the pile, some not quite so obviously seen. Certainly I would be foolish to just pick up the pile and toss it. After all the stones belonged in the path, they were part of it that needed to be kept there. And so I began to sort through the pile of mulch/stone, picking carefully the stones that belonged and placing them in the path from where they came. The stones that I would keep, the items that made sense, that I enjoyed being around and with, that were still part of the original deeper belonging. And the mulch that is left will be thrown back onto the bed from which it came.

swatting at anger

I had felt an anger rising up inside me these past few days. I listened to my friends tell me that my job loss was a blessing in disguise. There were no hard feelings right? I hadn't done anything wrong after all and from their perspective, the "she'll be just fine",  just wasn't cutting it for me. I told myself this was true and repeated it like a mantra, a blessing in disguise, an opportunity. I shouldn't be angry, I'm above that. Surely I'm capable of seeing the big picture, the wisdom of what will come, living in the moment. But living in the moment doesn't mean not acknowledging all the emotion that you feel at the time. I tried to suppress and push aside this gnawing feeling of discontentment but it was not to let me be. I started having issues with getting to sleep. My mind just wouldn't shut off and images of work life kept pecking at my need of a peaceful slumber. Even when I would fall asleep, I dreamt of people, situations from work, and would only wake up feeling more and more restless and pissed off. 

Well, I'm mad as hell. My security blanket was taken away and my life was disrupted and I feel a lot of things and anger is one. 

After talking to my sister this morning, I was able to say to myself, yes I'm angry and that's okay, be angry, feel it, be it. Now go into your garden and pull weeds. Pulling weeds helps, it's a kind of therapy, get mad at the weeds. Pull, yank, twist, cut, out they come. Some easier than others. But I felt good, filling up the trash bin time after time, throwing away, cleaning out the negative voices in my head. 

It was insanely humid and hot and the buzzing flying things kept circling my head and body. Under the burning sun, as beads of sweat formed and began loosening their grip dripping down my skinI, the annoying flying things became worse.  I kept swatting them away, wished they would leave me alone, they were interrupting me and interfering in my cleaning up task. Finally, I realized that they were not going to go away. I acknowledged that they were there and that the humidity was getting to both of us. Okay, so we're both angry today.  And so I gathered up my gardening tools and sought shelter on the shaded porch appreciating the breeze that moved across my sweating brow.