Cardinal

I love cardinals. I come from a family that loves cardinals for a special reason. My great grandparents had a special cardinal light up ornament that was and is a part of our family lore. My cousin Cindy wrote about it in the following poem.

Christmas 1975

By Cindy Harmon Nield

I have been in this family for approximately forty years. You know, the Esse and Estella Harmon family.

I’m a little, red bird and I have a little, red light inside of me. Esse picked me up in Montpelier, Idaho while he was on one of his trips with the horses and sleigh just before Christmas. Estella was very pleased with me and put me right on the tree. I’ve been on their Christmas tree every year since and I’ve never burnt out. Never once have I had my bulb changed. I became a tradition. The families all got very excited over whether or not I would come on.

But things were a little different this year. I came on the first night and saw Estella but not Esse. I burned brightly – just waiting for him to walk in. He never came and somehow I knew he wasn’t coming back.

The next night Estella went to plug in the lights. I tried to come on – honestly I did, but without Esse, there was just no use.

Every year we read this on Christmas Eve as a family. And every year I add a few more cardinals to my collection. But the cardinal has begun to be of critical importance to me beyond Christmas. I had a powerful experience at my beloved Bok Tower Gardens this past year, on two separate occasions, that helped me to understand just how powerful a symbol this bird is in my life. And for Christmas this year my daughter wrote me a poem that increases its power for me, reminding me in her beautiful language that the cardinal is the symbol that someone from heaven is looking over you.

The “Cardinal Rule.”

When all things began, and all was created

The Father called me and said, “you are sacred.”

He whispered to me in that heavenly voice,

That things would be hard down on earth with free choice.

He told me that death would be one of the things,

That would bring the worst pain, so they would need my wings.

My little red wings were made just by him,

To let them feel hope when life would seem dim.

So, now there’s a legend that follows me far and wide,

That when you see me there are others by your side.

Others who have departed this mortal life,

That are on the other side missing you with great strife.

Though their work continues on, beyond the veil,

There is a longing for you as you struggle and travail.

So, they send me to you with my little red wings,

To bring you hope and joy and other things.

Many may say it’s just luck that has me fly by,

But you know it is love and a tender cry.

I know you remember the times I have come,

And you knew exactly who the red bird was from.

Each Christmas season you read to your family my story,

Of when Esse brought me and I shone in great glory.

You remember the times you needed my wings,

When you sat at Monticello and talked eternal things.

You still remember the times you needed me most,

When your little girl was serving on the other coast.

Your prayers sent me to her in the times she might cave,

When she needed the love from those beyond the grave.

And don’t forget the many times you have sat in the garden,

With the tower so tall when life seemed to harden.

So, the legend is true about the little red bird,

That the “Cardinal rule” is for others to be heard.

Those others who cannot be here in a physical way,

But love you still and will send me to say.

Say how they love you with all of their spirit,

And are waiting for you so one day you’ll hear it.

This is part of the plan for us to work on each side,

So that celestially we will meet and in Heaven abide.

M. Estelle E.

I also received an incredibly beautiful painting of a pair of cardinals done by one of my talented seminary students for Christmas. (See the photo at the beginning of this post.) I am so blessed and overwhelmed as all of these things represent such love to me but I am also aware that the Lord is asking me to take this even one step further. The word "cardinal" is to be my focus word for a time. He gives me those on occasion when I need to wake up and have further awareness and this is my new word. It wasn't until I received these powerful gifts and began to study this word that I began to understand what He is trying to offer me. The word cardinal is far more than a bird and I am grateful for the message that the young people in my life have offered me through their gifts of love this holiday season. We are not alone and the powers of light will always find a way to get the message we need across to us if we will only be still and listen. What does the word cardinal mean to you and what words has the universe given to you to ponder and use in your life? I would love to hear from you!

Peace will find a way

Yesterday, December 1st, was a difficult anniversary. Maggie Long, a seventeen year old wonder child, was murdered in her home in our neighborhood. It is a hard anniversary for me as a mom and a teacher and it is an even more difficult anniversary to my daughter and many other young people who loved Maggie. And these are all kids that I love. And yes, the fact that the murderer has never been caught adds immensely to the difficulty.

I had made the decision to sign our family up to sing sacred carols with the stake group that had been invited to do so in the Olde Golden Christmas parade on this date. I felt the need to be out and about, doing what good we could be doing on this date. It was a wise choice for all of us and we had a terrific time and loved the hours we spent as a family wandering the shops and streets of downtown Golden after the parade had finished. We even got to take a horse drawn carriage ride around the city!

Getting to the staging area of a parade meant a lot of flurry on a Saturday morning and so I found no time for my morning meditation, on a morning when I really needed to meditate. I was frustrated by this, but it couldn't be helped. We arrived at the staging area just in time and had a great time watching all of the participants arrive and prepare. As we were waiting, I heard my phone ring repeatedly but when I checked it there was no call. It was then that I realized that I was hearing real bagpipes and not my phone! I followed that blessed sound and discovered a bagpipe group warming up on the patio of the visitor's center. I found a bench that was sitting fully in the morning sun right next to Clear Creek and I sat down and listened as the sun warmed my face. As I sat I heard Scotland the Brave, Simple Things, Amazing Grace, Good King Wenceslas, and finally, Greensleeves. If you know me at all you would understand that if you added a wee bit of Bach to that playlist you would have the mediation music for Cynthia down to a tee. I cannot even describe how glorious this personal meditation moment was for me. I sometimes think that I cannot really meditate away from my beloved Bok Gardens, but that was about as perfect a meditation as I have ever experienced.

Later in the day, I walked into a clothing shop and saw, as if there were a neon arrow pointing to it, the most adorable flannel cardinal nightgown. This is always a sign that my great grandparents are near and want me to be aware. (Don't laugh, it's true.) It will sound silly to most of you, but I knew in that moment, as I had known on that bench a couple of hours earlier, that I was so very not alone. I was so loved and hugged and there are plenty around me, seen and unseen, who are taking good care of me. I didn't even realize it until that very moment, but that is the message I most needed on this difficult day. I just needed to be reminded that God is so aware of each of us and while he may allow us to struggle as a part of being mortal, he also never leaves our side.
 

Managing technology

On a recent trip to Florida I had an experience that really caused me to think. I was so caught up in getting photos of flowers and a variety of things that I missed a really wonderful moment. It took my breath away and really opened my eyes and I have been thinking and pondering on this ever since. I have set a new goal for myself, and I would invite others to consider trying the same thing. I will be working to make sure that I have truly caught an image in my brain and recorded it there and acknowledged the feelings I am feeling before I work to catch anything on camera. And, I am making it all about me, not about sharing with others! Yep, in this instance I think it is okay to be selfish and self-centered.

This is the photo that I was trying to get when I had my epiphany. I wanted this photo because I wanted to write a blog post about how the gardenia and its magical scent goes through stages and the aging flower still smells wonderful but in a different, spicier way. I want to see myself as that aging gardenia, still having something positive to share, but different than the new, young flowers out there.  I still have something to offer, especially as a teacher of young people. But the writing of the blog post and the capturing of the photo should not have taken precedence over the powerful jolt I got from the spirit in that moment. I should have stopped and really meditated on that rather than on getting the perfect photo for a blog post (this is one of several shots...)

Sunday evening, the leader of our church, the man I consider a modern day prophet, gave a challenge to the youth of our faith to take a seven day fast from social media. And after the seven days to make an assessment of what they missed, what relief they found, etc. As a teacher of youth, I feel the need to take on this same challenge. I have been posting "Unplug Every Day Challenges" on my Facebook wall and I will refrain from even that for one week as I truly work to unplug! (Except for posting Kodren's update tomorrow, I will still be doing that!)

I will report back in seven days and let you know what withdrawal/misery/joy/relief/peace I experience along the way. Thanks for reading! I love you all!!

In the end what matters?

I have just spent the past couple of weeks doing a fairly in-depth study of the Byron brouhaha. Let me warn you off of ever thinking of doing such a study yourself. The whole Regency aristocracy is a depraved nightmare and you just don't want to go there. I have learned a few things along the way. While I love the Romantic poets, I mean I seriously love a number of them, I do not agree with their philosophy that one must have a certain level of depravity in order to allow one's genius flag to fly. I read apologists for both Lady and Lord Byron in my research and was quite stunned to read over and over again, that Lord Byron could not have created anything beautiful unless he was a depraved monster, that his depravity led to his genius (okay, they say it much nicer than that, but that is the gist of what they are saying). I am now going to work on creating a list of people who made the best choices they could make, given their health and circumstances, and still wrote works of beauty. Feel free to offer up your suggestions.

I also came away identifying with Lady Byron in a number of ways (except for choice of husband, I got that right, she did not). She had a marvelous ability to read other people and make a quick assessment of their needs. However, she could not turn that gift on herself and gauge her own needs and monitor her own responses in a healthy way. I can relate to this struggle. She was a philanthropist who truly understood where the education system needed to go, a sharp departure from where it was currently running in her day and she went to work and turned the lives of many children around with her educational programs, schools, and offerings. I have grown to love and appreciate this woman.

In the end, would I seek out or accept a life of selfish depravity if I could, as a result of such a life, write the way Lord Byron could write? Or...would I be content to be largely forgotten and even vilified by many, even though I was a decent writer in my own right, if I could make the difference in the lives of children and be a patron to such great contributors as George MacDonald and Charles Babbage? I am walking away from this course of study believing that, though she was far from perfect, Lady Byron made the correct choices.

Submitting to a Mentor

Each year I "submit" myself to a mentor (in addition to God) and study from their words each day and try to incorporate the wisdom they offer into my life. This year that mentor is Seneca, in the form of his moral letters to Lucilius. On only the second day of this mentorship, in his second letter, Seneca addresses reading with a strongly worded letter including the following quote, "Be careful lest the reading of many authors and books of every sort may tend to make you discursive and unsteady. You must linger among a limited number of master thinkers, and digest their works, if you would derive ideas which shall win firm hold in your mind. Everywhere means nowhere. When a person spends all his time in foreign travel, he ends up having many acquaintances, but no friends. And the same thing must hold true of men who seek intimate acquaintance with no single author, but visit them all in a hasty and hurried manner." He goes on an elaborates, but you get the idea.

Okay...I will admit that the first time I read this letter, I scoffed, major eye rolling. However, it will not leave me alone, my brain won't let it rest. My soul reminds me constantly that I cannot demand that my children and students submit to mentors if I am not willing to do the same. So...I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna read a far fewer variety of authors and take a few authors to a place of depth this year. This is proving to be far more difficult than I anticipated. I need some accountability so I am putting this out there and posting to my fellow Facebook book junkie groups so that they can hold my feet to the fire when my flibbertigibbet self goes running after every pretty cover displayed at the library. (If you are in one of the groups that I report to regularly or if you are a part of my physical life, please feel free to scold and reprimand as I wander.)

I have to admit that, as I've made preparations to follow Seneca's admonition, other scattered areas of my life have become more stable, clear, and uncluttered. In fact, I find that I am getting chills quite frequently as I realize that bringing reading, my greatest passion, into a place of order is likely going to have an intense effect on my entire world. I hope to report back on this as I think this could be quite huge. In the meantime, I'm curious, what "limited number of master thinkers" would you invite in if this challenge were presented to you? I REALLY want to know!

Light

So...it is that long-awaited day, the day of the eclipse. So much hype and so many people running all over the country. It has been interesting to watch, especially as a Wyoming child, seeing the throngs of people move through all those small towns. We were content to be in our mountain home and enjoy the 93% that happened here. We had no glasses but I remember as a child when I saw an eclipse the sky was kinda boring but everything else was magical. This time was no different. As I was watching and pondering and even meditating outside I was overwhelmed with powerful thoughts. If I had turned around and stared at the sun, I would have damaged my eyes permanently. We cannot handle that kind of light. It is the same with God. We cannot handle his brilliance with our mortal eyes and yet he is shining on us always. True faith comes not from demanding to look at the light, not demanding proof and seeing all of his light for ourselves before we will believe, but in turning our back and allowing the light to shine safely on our backs while we make beautiful shadows and do great things from the light that is shining on us always. Spending our energy demanding proof or demanding that God show us his love by what he gives us, like some kind of Santa Claus, is damaging to our souls, it leaches the greater vision from us and we lose the ability to see and to be warmed and strengthened. And there are times of eclipse. There are times in our lives when trials or emotions or struggles come between us and the light and there is a drop in temperature and there is a dimming of the radiance and the birds stop singing and everything feels dull and we can be frightened or feel despair. It is then that we must remember that the light has not moved, it is not going anywhere, circumstances or our own decisions have caused a cloud or a body to pass between us and the light but it will pass, the light is available still in full force, we just have to either wait it out or make new decisions that will cause the interference to move along. And even as the darkness is blocking the light from hitting us fully, we can dance, just like the leaves on the trees, and make magical, half-moon shadows and that in itself will cause the darkness to move along more quickly, bringing us back into the fullness of light. God is my constant. I am grateful for the light that I feel shining on me. And...now...my job is to keep dancing, to keep making my shadow something of beauty no matter how much of that constant light happens to be shining on me at the moment.

Place of worship and comfort

There are many different places of worship. There are those who find temples in nature, in their own homes, in a ballpark, and, yes, in a theatre. Today, I got the news of the loss of a dear man who was a friend and a colleague and I am devastated. My heart shattered as I tried to grasp that, after such a long battle for his health, Scott is gone. I was struggling to get my emotions under control as I headed to the high school for the parents' meeting for Seviah's volleyball team. While my intellectual self knew that it was 6:00 and that most everything save the gym would be locked up, I said a prayer that perhaps I might be able to get into the auditorium. You see, this was Scott's realm. This was his place of worship. And this particular stage at Platte Canyon High School was where he had spent his happiest days (and those are his words, not mine). In one of those beautiful tender mercies that God and the universe will send our way when we most need it, the auditorium was open. I listened in on the parents' meeting and then I slipped away and sat in the dark auditorium and sobbed my heart out. It was so right. It was where I needed to be, in a place where Scott was so at home. Life feels rather like a blank, empty stage right now. Now we have to build a new set and locate new props in a show that no longer contains Scott LaBelle as a character and that hurts more than I can express but I would still take this pain over the thought of never having acted alongside Scott on this world stage. "He was a man, take him for all in all. I shall not look upon his like again."

A refuge in the storm

Yes, this is a tree, just the trunk of a tree, but this is my blog/journal and I wanted to have a photo to remember this experience. If you look close enough you can tell that this tree and the ground in front of it have a dry spot, surrounded by lots of sogginess. We made a trip to my beloved Bok Tower Gardens on Sunday and we got there and made the trek to the tower just in time for two things, the 1:00 concert and a heavy downpour. We all ran for the shelter near the tower but I could not hear the bells from inside the shelter due to the rain pounding the roof. So I grabbed the umbrella from my husband and I headed out into the rain to see if I could find any sort of sensible place to hear the concert. You see, the numbers that were listed in the concert included Ben Jonson's Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes as well as Bach's Organ Concerto No. ! and so it was seriously like the concert had been chosen especially for me. I just couldn't let a little rain cause me to miss it. As I wandered around the tower, getting more and more drenched, I suddenly noticed that there was a large Spanish Oak, right next to the tower that seemed relatively dry on one side. I headed there and propped myself and my umbrella as strategically as possible against that trunk and I had a front row seat to the most wonderful carillon concert! As I stood there with my eyes closed, contemplating and taking it all in, the thing that so often happens to me at that place occurred, I got a word stuck in my mind. The word "refuge". As I listened to the music and let the word steep through the layers of my brain, so many of my favourite psalms kept floating through my thoughts. The Lord is identified as a refuge time and time again in these verses that I love, and he is indeed a refuge but refuge isn't always comfortable. The origins of the word mean to "flee back" and that is what the Lord is, he is a place you can run back to in times of trouble. However, even as the tree gave me some measure of dryness and safety, it wasn't a complete shelter. The Lord seldom gives complete shelter either, we must deal with the natural consequences of free will as well as weather some of the storms of being human but he never forces us to weather them alone, there is always some sort of refuge available. Again, it is often not as complete a refuge as we might wish, but it is a strength and a place of safety nonetheless. Then there often comes that moment when someone comes along and wants to share your refuge. As I stood there listening and meditating, Karl came to find me and startled me as he snuggled in under the umbrella to share my small, dry space. I am not gonna lie, there was that split second when I felt that flare of frustration, of wanting to keep the entire place of refuge to myself. But my better nature quickly took over and I scooted and let him in. Now the refuge was less comfortable but also warmer as it was shared and we were both less alone. Sharing our refuge can be a tough choice, but it is always the right choice and sharing will nearly always bring added safety and strength. And I felt peace, peace that I only feel at certain times and in certain places and then I carry it with me in that still place inside of me to pull out when needed. I am deeply grateful that I have an awareness that I am not alone, even when I am uncomfortable, that I have someone to turn to, someone to lean my back on, even as I battle the demon(s) in front of me. Oh, and Bach's Organ Concerto No. 1 is the perfect music to accompany this blog post. Listen to it some time, it sounds like a storm at the beginning and then resolves itself into a celebration of conquering.

Act when you are prompted to move!

I just had the most remarkable experience. I was sitting in my office, working at my desk while the rest of my family snored in front of the television, when suddenly I was lifted out of my chair with a strong impulse to take a walk out on the property. It was so strong that I didn't even bother to put on my good hiking shoes and grab my hiking sticks (kinda sorry about that now, honestly). I put on the gardening crocs that sit by the back door and I headed up the mountain. It was a glorious early spring evening in the mountains and for no other reason than that, I am grateful that I was shoved out the door. I stopped and gave the horse some loves as she is truly a needy Diva but the push to keep moving was strong so I didn't dilly-dally, I headed up the mountain. My favourite place to meditate is the rocky outcrop near the top of our property and I tried to stop there but the spirit was not having that and I kept on hiking higher up to the neighbor's mountain. Let me be clear here, we have a great relationship and understanding with our neighbors and they are comfortable with us climbing around on their property, so I was not trespassing! I got to the top of the mountain and it was so beautiful. The moon was out and shining off of the still-white Mount Rosalie and I can see forever up there but there was specific stuff for me to see and contemplate there. I sat down where I was led and quickly spotted the piece of nature that the spirit wanted me to consider. So I sat and I studied and I pondered and it was powerful. Then the moment came when I was released to return and I stood and took a number of photos and then removed the crocs and did some earthing and stretching and then, just as darkness was descending and it was critical for me to get down the mountain while I still had enough light, the moon broke through the clouds and a Western Meadowlark landed on the tree through which I was watching the moon and he sang his heart out to say goodbye to the day. It was beyond glorious. Reminded me that there is another blog post that I need to compose concerning those "pause and take a breath moments" in nature. Then he was gone and I was once again pushed, only this time I was pushed down the mountain before the light gave out. I am now back at my desk but with an entirely different outlook on life and I am so grateful for those pushes that come in our lives, even when we didn't know we needed it! I will add photos, they will likely mean nothing to you, but something might touch your heart and my special moment will be recorded. I will not share the message I was given, but if you get a message from any of these photos, I would LOVE to hear about it. Thanks!

Every part is important

I saw The Book of Will last night. This play is the dramatized story of the friends of William Shakespeare who came together and, at great labor and cost, created what is termed the First Folio, a beautiful gathering in one place of all of his plays. If you know me at all then you understand the depth of emotion that I felt as I watched this show. I am grateful to Laura Gunderson for her efforts in writing such a work. I even agree with the liberties she took! I couldn't sleep last night for the thoughts that were dancing through my brain and I fear that I will be restless tonight if I don't get some of these thoughts down in black and white.


Many of my current Bible study students are beginning to grow weary of my constant referring back to my most favourite chapter of scripture but I just cannot help myself. I know that there will be eyes rolling out there as they read that last line because I am forever claiming verses and whole chapters as "favourites" but this one has been my consistent go-to chapter since I was a fairly young person. In chapter 12 of 1 Corinthians, Paul outlines the importance of spiritual gifts and then goes on to describe the way we need to use these gifts in a way that causes them all to work together as one, therefore enhancing our own gifts as well as the gifts of everyone around us. He uses the analogy of a body, that every part of the body has an important part to play and that if any part is lost then the entire body struggles.


Okay, The Book of Will and the story it tells illustrates exactly what Paul is begging us to recognize. Yes, Shakespeare was the genius but he was not clever enough to bring his works together for posterity and he was able to continue writing plays because of the powerful performances of Richard Burbage that drew in audiences. And without the scrivening talent of men like Ralph Crane to put the words down for the actors there would have been nothing to pull from to publish. Then you have John Heminges and Henry Condell. Without John's financial management the King's Men would not have enjoyed the success they knew and the friendship of both of these men is what led to the intense labor of gathering the scattered remnants of Shakespeare's works and editing them to give us the cleanest copies possible of his plays. If any one of these people had chosen not to follow through with his mission and not utilized his spiritual gifts then we would not have the works of Shakespeare and I cannot even imagine what we would be missing in the culture of the entire world really and I don't even want to consider the loss in my personal life if I did not have the richness that Shakespeare has given me and continues to give me every day.


Some of us are a Shakespeare, some a effulgent Burbage, and some of us are an OCD Ralph Crane and every one of us is as necessary to creating wonder in the world. I will refer back to the words of Paul since, like Shakespeare, he says things so perfectly. "There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of them is without signification." (1 Corinthians 14:10). Go and get busy creating wonder in your realm and with your gifts!

She beheld a mystic image

Oh. My. Goodness. If you are not engaged in meditating, I don't know how many times and ways I can tell you to get going with it, it will truly change your life. I just had the most stunning experience in a meditation moment and I wish there were a way for me to bottle this feeling and give it to others but that is not how it works, others have to find this for themselves. (Sigh.) I want to share this as far as I am able to with words. I fully understand that this may mean nothing to most people but if I can convey the power that this moment held for me, perhaps, even if they are rolling their eyes at what touches me, they will go seeking for such a connection for themselves.


Looking back, I can see that there were a number of small occurrences throughout this week that led me to this moment and the peace I now feel, moments good and bad. I am grateful for each of the things that drove me out of the door of the house this afternoon, sobbing. I was so overwhelmed and beat down and just felt, down to my very core, that I was never gonna say or do the right thing for those who most depend upon me, including myself. That is a dark place. Thank heaven for the voices of those who have been guiding me that pushed me out and walking as a way to cope and manage. I headed out into this blissful false spring that we are enjoying in the mountains of Colorado right now and struck out for the far reaches of our property where I could be removed and alone. I ranted and raved and swore and spat and kicked all the way to the top of the hill where I sat down on the rock outcropping and tried to get a handle on myself. After allowing myself a few more tears, I began some deep breathing. The calm came quickly and I began to look around as I was breathing to see if there were something that God was going to use in the nature around me to speak to me (that is often how we two communicate). BAM! So quickly it was there. A tree. Right in front of where I was sitting.

Most will not be able to tell but while this tree is green but it is not perfectly healthy. It has been affected, for quite some time, by dwarf mistletoe. Dwarf mistletoe is a parasite that lives for years off of a tree and doesn't really kill it, not outright, but it does drain some of its energy and it causes a strange growth pattern in the branches. It causes the branches to grow downward, rather than straight or up towards the sun, which is the natural pattern. The branches grow downward and resemble a broom and thus the phenomenon is called "witches brooming". The picture below shows inside to some of the branches and gives you a better idea.

All of this would not be evident to most people but with my background and training I could see it right away and it took my breath away when I saw that tree as a metaphor for me. Earlier this week I had been traveling in the car with my youngest child and the song that I now recognize as the song of meditation for me in my youth came up on my iPod shuffle and I had the opportunity to explain to my girl what this song had meant for me even back when I didn't know what meditation was on a formal level. As I looked at that tree, a line in that song flowed through me and I knew I was being led and taught. You see, I am a tree (or a Silken Tent, my favourite poem, which was also running through my mind at this point) just like the tree I was facing. I have quite a bit of witchesbrooming on some of my lower branches. Unlike the tree, I have mostly chosen those who get to feed from me and my energy but in giving of myself and my energy I have been affected and drained of essential energies. And that's okay. It is okay because I am being supported and buoyed up by a God whose love I feel every day. And you know what, the metaphor for that God was there before me as well.

If you look up from the areas of witchesbrooming on the affected tree, you will see that her higher branches are still growing correctly and she is growing right next to a monster of a tree that she is leaning on slightly and he is offering her support. They even make music together when the wind hits them and their branches rub and sway together. This is how I can keep going. This is what I need and precisely the message that could offer me peace even in the midst of major turmoil happening in the lives of those I love. And as all of this rushed over me, the tears began again but they were the cleansing kind of tears this time. What a blessing. I wish there were a way that I could just infuse what I felt there on that mountain into those I love but, unfortunately, they have to get out of their own heads and find it for themselves.

As I sat there, now able to truly breathe deeply and in peace, a beautiful small voice whispered the following thought to me, "Your problems are the blessings that others are begging for." I am not going to get into the problems that me and mine are facing but this struck me so hard that I nearly fell off of the rock that I was perched on. MY (OUR) PROBLEMS ARE THE BLESSINGS THAT OTHERS ARE BEGGING FOR! Now, this is not the case with every single one of my problems, but many of our struggles are a result of choices, good choices, that have brought us to this place and I need to own that. I cannot express how huge this was for me.

I wrapped up my time away by taking off my shoes and relishing the feel of the earth beneath my feet as I stretched and stretched. "Stretch" is the word that God has given me to ponder this year and as I stood next to these trees that had just offered such powerful lessons to me I again heard that precious soft voice whisper, "Stretch toward God". This has many layers of meaning and I will be pondering that at length over the coming days but it was just one more powerful truth offered to me there on that mountain to carry home and back to reality.

I cried on my way up the mountain and I cried on my way down but they were vastly different tears. I am loved and I am whole and this is the life I have chosen for myself and I wouldn't have it any other way. Please, anyone who is still with me at this ending, just try meditating, just try being alone and talking freely to whatever it is that you believe to be a higher power. This may be a rambling mess, but it is real and there is peace to be had!

Grateful for constant reminders to be grateful!

I said my prayers early this morning and asked for help and a return to a sense of gratitude and peace before I headed out to teach a bible study class alongside my dear friend Darleen to an incredible bunch of young people. That teaching opportunity went a long way to answering my prayer and put me in the right frame of mind for the day.

Later this morning my son and I were studying together out of a book that I purchased for us to use as a refresher course in the basics of our education. The work today was comprehension exercises. We read passages of classic works and then took turns asking each other the questions at the end of the piece. It was a great exercise for both of us. But the real gift came for me when the reading that came up was Sonnet 29 by my dear friend William Shakespeare. Here is that sonnet:

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

WHOA! I realize that this was written as a love poem but, in looking at in the larger scope of things, I got precisely the answer I needed. I spend far too much time comparing myself to others and seeing myself as coming up WAY short. But, if I take the time to step back and see all the great people that I love and that love me, I am reminded of my tremendous wealth and I can be like Shakespeare's car at the break of day and move through life with a song. The rest of my day has been ever so much better for this reminder.

Sanctuary

It is Memorial Day and this is always a day of deep reflection for me. I have written about legacy before and spoke about Edward Bok and the legacy he left to the American people but I couldn't help but write again after I spent time in both his place of legacy and the legacy place of another man, Walt Disney, today. There are ways in which Walt Disney and Edward Bok are similar but the legacies they left behind are complete opposites even though they both sought to leave behind a happy place of safety for all to enjoy.

I wonder, often, how Disney would feel about what his legacy has become. But I don't wonder about Bok's legacy. Bok's children and grandchildren are working hard to make a difference in their respective realms in the world and the incredible sanctuary that Edward Bok gifted to the American people as thanks for what America had done for him remains one of the most glorious peace-filled and beautiful places that I have ever experienced. But Bok's offering is, for the most part, unknown. Though I talk it up to anyone who will listen, I find that few are interested in making the drive to see some plants and a tower with bells. Even my own family thinks me a wee bit nuts for my obsession with this place. I find no such problem getting people to want to visit Mr. Disney's place of legacy and I understand but I still ponder on this.

I love both of these men and both of their offerings. Both of their legacies have altered my life in endless ways. But I do see that I have reached a point in my life where Mr. Bok's sanctuary is my destination of choice when I am here in Florida. I wish I could explain it. But every time I try, I just babble and I can never find the right words to express just what this place means to me.

Thank you Mr. Disney for creating a place that has cemented our family and will continue to offer opportunities for love, growth, and fun for our family and subsequent generations.

Thank you Mr. Bok for creating a bit of heaven on earth. For giving me a place where I have to put in a wee bit of work but the rewards I gain for that work have allowed me a glimpse into the eternities.

The motto that Edward Bok's grandmother offered to him as he prepared to make the journey to America as a wee boy, "Make you the world a bit better or more beautiful because you have lived in it,” is exquisite in both its simplicity and its scope.

I will never have the means to leave behind a legacy such as these two men left in their wake, but I can take Grandma Bok's words to heart and leave my children and the few others that God has given me some stewardship over a sense of priority, beauty, sanctuary, and peace and that is what I am striving for as I look towards winding up my life here on earth.

Restoration/Repairs/Improvement

There is a design piece at the Denver Art Museum that grabbed onto me a few years ago and hasn't let go. There is a poem or a story or something that needs to be told about this piece and I have not found the right formula yet, but I will. It is a huge gilded mirror of Italian design manufactured in approximately 1750 and it is glorious. This week I made one of my treks to the museum with my kids and I spent time in the room where the mirror is located and I did some writing and some thinking. (The perfect writing/thinking couches are also located in this room for anyone who wants to sit and study the pieces.) As I was sitting there a number of people wandered into the room. Two different couples who came into the room noted the mirror and remarked that it should be restored or repaired and spoke of how it could be improved with some work. It was not my business to say anything to them but their words broke my heart. This mirror should not be touched, it is perfect just the way it is. I turned to write my thoughts of frustration in my journal when a voice that I refer to as the Spirit commanded me to "look up". I have learned not to ignore it when that voice speaks to me and so I did as I was told. When I lifted my head my face was captured in the mirror and I found that I was staring myself in the eye. Then it washed over me, I need to do a bit more of seeing myself the way I see this mirror. Honestly, I have spent my entire life hearing from others and from the voices in my head that I would be worthy once I restored some part of me or repaired another, make this improvement or that change and then I would be of worth. I found that I was crying as I realized that I do need to make some refinements in myself, we all do, but I am also worthy right at this moment. I am enough. Not perfect. Not anywhere close to where I want to be, but enough for this moment as long as I continue to try and continue to be forward looking. This is fairly huge for me and I will not be able to just swallow this attitude change overnight, but I did leave the museum with a greater sense of calm, peace, and worth than when I walked in.

We need a return to the scientific method

Because of a class on science and religion that I have been writing the curriculum for and teaching this semester much of my personal study has been along scientific lines. As I have studied I have come to see something that really bothers me. So many scientists spend their time and energy trying to make data fit what their theories rather than letting curiosity drive their efforts. And don't try to tell me that this is following the scientific method because I don't believe this. Today I was researching what occurred between the work of Samuel G. Morton and Stephen Jay Gould's ridicule of Morton's work. In going to extremes to show that Morton falsified his work due to bias, Gould himself proved to be biased toward the other extreme and rather embarrassed himself by being more political than scientific. A few scientists and reviewers went so far as to call Gould's work "propaganda". Gould spent his energy working to discredit another scientist and making him look ridiculous rather than taking Morton's work and reworking it towards greater understanding and that is unfortunate. Luckily other scientists took the work of both men and gave us a better understanding of the genetics of intelligence. I read about this and so many other instances where scientific efforts seem to be to jump so immediately to proving a theory that the methodology is compromised and that is so frustrating. I don't know how, but it would be so wonderful to have a full return to following the true scientific method and to a real, juicy curiosity as what drives our science.

The more that I have thought about this, I realize that this is not merely a problem with science, this is a problem across the board. This kind of closed mindedness runs throughout our culture and this is so frustrating to me. Religious folks spend their energy finding one or two scriptures with the right translation to say just what they want to hear from God and that is that, they have found what they need and they are done searching. In the political realm the same thing occurs, someone finds one line or amendment in the Constitution that says what they want it to say and that is what they cling to and lose the vision of the big picture. I could go on and on but you get the idea.

Being open minded is not easy, it can be downright scary, but we need to be as open to new ideas and expanded facts as possible. I am not one of those "back in the good old days" people, I like my modern conveniences, but I do wish that we could return to as sense of curiosity, wonder, and discovery as motivators and move beyond the overwhelming need to BE RIGHT AT ANY COST. So there.

Earthing

I have been traveling in misery. I have severe plantar fasciitis in one of my feet and I have been working so hard to enjoy this trip to Florida without complaining and still getting around and keeping up with everyone. Some days have been better than others but it has mostly been agony.



Until today. I don't know why I didn't think of it before now but today when I arrived at Bok Tower/Gardens to meditate I had the brilliant thought to do some earthing and so I immediately took my shoes off and began wandering through the grass, soft sand, and dirt. HEAVEN. I was pain free for the first time in weeks and the peace was incredible. I was stunned how jarring it was when I left the grass and hit one of the paths. It wasn't even an asphalt path, just a manicured dirt one with wood chips but I immediately felt pain again and my peace quickly drained away. I ran back to the grass and stood there wishing that I could stay on that grass forever. (For the record, I adore my girl Michayla who made my toes pretty so that I could take this photo of my pathetically fat and flat feet!)

I could not stay there forever and I had to put shoes back on and return to the real world and in a couple of hours I have to return to the real, REAL world and that world is buried in snow and so earthing will be impossible for some time to come. Sigh. But I return to that world with more steadiness and peace because of the time I spent meditating and being with family over the past couple of weeks. I now understand more than ever the need to create a sanctuary in my own space such as Edward Bok did for America with his Tower and Gardens. Thank you Mr. Bok, for this and in so many other things, you are a true hero to me.

Nature knows best

I had a frustrating experience on the beach last night. I have always had such powerful meditations on the beach to the sound of the surf. For me, God's voice is heard in the surf more clearly than almost anywhere else. This beach visit has been anguishing because of heavy rain and last night was really my first chance to meditate on the beach. Something that I love to do at night but last night was different. I could not connect, I could not find my way into my usual meditative state and I felt so desperate and anxious and then I descended into a place of darkness. It was my fault, I am aware of that. There is much to learn from this, mediation has always come so easy for me but I need to be reminded that it is work and I sometimes need to put in some effort.

But the bigger lesson struck me this morning as I sat on the beach yet again with a book of poetry and found myself back in my meditative groove. It hit me that the meditations I have done recently at the Bok Tower Gardens have been powerful and filled with peace and truth. As I came to this realization it dawned on me that this is the voice of God that I need to hear right now, the voice found in the garden, among the trees, the flowers, the Spanish moss, and the meandering paths. There are times in my life when I need the voice heard in the surf, the energy and the power that is found there, but not right now, right now I need stillness and foundational strength that comes from the voice of a huge Live Southern Oak. And it's okay because there will again come a time when I need to hear the voice found in the surf.

In the end I am grateful for the gift of mediation and my ability to receive strength from the voices of nature and I am doubly grateful that God knows best what voices I most need to hear.

God without qualifiers

Each day as I drive to and from my favourite meditation place I pass a church that has a sign out front that states the following "OUR GOD IS AWESOME". Every time I see this I find myself wanting to stop and rip off the word "our" and run away. I have not really stopped to think about why until it struck me today after a powerful, loving, and moving meditation. While I am quite certain that the "our" is inclusive and not meant to exclude others, it could be taken that way and I hate that thought. If an "our" is placed in front of God then it can be understood that there is a corresponding "your" or "their" God. It hit me that this is part of the world's ongoing religious struggle. We keep trying to qualify God but the Being that I worship is not to be qualified. The powerful affirmation that I received in my meditation today indicated to me that I am a treasure. I believe that this affirmation came from God and I believe that the same affirmation can be applied to every soul that lives, has lived, or ever will live on the earth. God. Is. Awesome.

When I Grow Up I Hope to be a Live Southern Oak

The first photo is my tree. Well, not officially, but I call it as mine all the same. I spent my Sunday mediation time studying a live Southern Oak and this is what I aspire to be when I one day. But I must specify that I want to be the oak in the first photo. The oak in the second photo is struggling because it has not stayed ahead of the Spanish Moss and it may have lost enough leaf surface area to cause it to lose its ability to feed itself properly and that will be a death knell. While I was sitting and meditating beneath the branches of the huge, healthy tree in the matter of only a few seconds I was able to spot a squirrel, a jay, a flicker, a chickadee, a stag-horn fern, resurrection fern, mushrooms, lichen, and, of course, Spanish moss, not to mention a huge variety of insect life. All of these creatures were being supported by the magnificent tree. The tree has reached this state of magnificence because it learned balance as a young sapling. It was aggressive enough to keep its leaf growth ahead of the Spanish moss and used the food from those leaves to anchor itself deeply into the ground so that it could withstand the buffeting of the winds even with the added stress of the Spanish moss throwing off its equilibrium. As the tree grew and its large branches formed and spread other plants found a home there, air ferns and bromeliads settled in on the branches and found their way into the forks of branches and thrived. Birds nested in the tree, squirrels feasted on the acorns and insect colonies grew in its bark and roots and it took care of all of these plants and creatures and more.

As I contemplated all of this I came to understand that this is what I need to be in my life. I need to be like the oak who understands that it must aggressively make certain that it has enough of its own leaves and surface area to be fed so that it is strong enough to sustain all of the other lifeforms that rely on it. And with that foundation and strength, I need to allow others to lean on me and grow from me. But, like the resurrection fern, if those who are leaning on my don't find their own water, food, and nutrients, then they shrivel up and go dormant and there is nothing the tree can do, the fern is on its own. So much food for thought here that I am still trying to process. I love meditating in nature, I always get so much for my brain to chew on.

Wrapping it all up

I have been home for a couple of days and have processed a few things and have a pretty good idea of some of the best things that I came away from this trip to England with and I am grateful.

-I understand with even more conviction that the British Isles is the place where magic truly does originate. And London is some sort of a magic portal. Whether it is scoring the perfect seat in the house for a midnight play at the Globe on the spur of the moment or having an old friend be in London at the same time as me so that we can exchange love and hugs or having a couple approach us and offer us a free day pass on the Underground that they will no longer be using, London and England just seem to come up with just the perfect thing to make me feel at home and loved.

-Life is just full of surprises. I was to see four shows while attending the summer school with the Shakespeare Institute and there was only one that I was rather dreading, The Jew of Malta. Well…guess which of the four shows ended up being my, hands down, favourite? Yep, that dreadful Jew. And it didn't even have anything to do with the fact that the play uses my name, which leads me to my next ah-hah…

-It is super fun to have your name used by actors onstage! I have a name that lends itself to having that happen and I discovered what a thrill this is for me. I have read my name in the works of Shakespeare and of course Ben Jonson (he wrote a whole play titled with my name) but there is just something that makes me feel like a little kid at Christmas to hear my name from a great actor.

-I was reminded, yet again, that I have every right to an opinion and that I have done the work involved in being able to critique whatever show I may see, even a RSC production. This is not easy for me to remember, I sometimes lack the confidence to feel as though I can question anything like a director's choice or an actor's performance, but I was reminded repeatedly over the past two weeks that I have earned the right to my opinion.

-I saw that previous generations have done some really stupid things in the name of practicality and I was quite frustrated with some of the people who have gone before and the silly choices they made. Then I began to wonder what a few generations down the line will be saying about me and us…

-Finally, I was reminded that I really must not judge a book or people by their cover. The most interesting and intriguing people can come in quite plain packages and it is such a shame at what we may miss out on because of those snap judgements. (I hope people remember that when they have to look at me!) I was grateful to wrap up my time there in our last night in Stratford with a couple of gems that Erin helped me to get to know who are brilliant women who have worked hard to be strong and aware women and I am so grateful for the time I was able to spend with them and for what they gave to me, not the least of which was to make me feel welcome.

Thank you Erin. Thank you England. Thank you to the RSC and the Shakespeare Institute. I am so much the richer for all that I was able to experience. What a privilege.