Spirituality

Finding the Divine Within.

I once overheard a conversation between a young man and his guru.

“The purpose of religion is to find God,” the student proudly beamed.

“Not quite,” his teacher corrected. “The purpose of religion is to find ourselves, within which we shall find God.”

I don’t recall the conversation being specific to any given religion, rather -it was one intended to explore our spirituality as a whole; to emphasize and refine our engagement of this contemplative practice.

“I love the dark hours of my being,” Rilke shared. “My mind deepens into them. There I can find, as in old letters, the days of my life, already lived, and held like a legend, and understood.”

It is only through this darkness that we may begin to understand our light. And, with its softened ember – illuminate our world.

In peace, my loves…

Namaste ❤️

Testing the Tolerance of Heart.

I was watching the news on television this morning. A young man out walking his pup was attacked by another passerby. “I didn’t like the way he looked,” the assailant later confided. “Up to no good, I’m telling ya,” he said.

The victim was later identified a community leader and advocate for disadvantaged youth. His days were comprised of much smaller actions yielding a far greater good. In the past week alone, he had offered uniforms and lunches for those children whose parents were unable to provide.

And, not for the glory – my goodness, no. Rather, more simply, because it was the right thing to do. But now he lay, clinging to life. Why?

Because, “I didn’t like the way he looked…”

In our teachings, we focus on the essence of love and its transformative spirit. Though, how often do we exercise the energy of tolerance? “I’m a Buddhist until I get behind the wheel of a car,” a friend of mine once said. And, he was right – my ‘burning ears’ will surely bear testimony.

The truth is, every moment is a test of our tolerance. Our emotions, our fears, our past experiences – each defining our interaction within this space. We may say or act a certain way, sometimes not truly reflective of our beliefs or spirit. Emotions trigger reaction, while tolerance coaxes heart.

Though there may be vast differences between us all, still we strive for a shared understanding; a unity beyond race, culture, class and virtue.

“If we cannot end now our differences,” President John F. Kennedy once shared. “at least we can help make the world safe for diversity. For, in the final analysis, our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this small planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children’s future. And we are all mortal.”

Perhaps then, our practice should include a testing of heart? That we may learn to engage tolerance even in these more trying of times.

In peace, my loves…

Namaste ❤️

Loosening Expectation’s Hold.

[blockquote source=”Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche”]”Don’t burden others with your expectations. Understanding their limitations can inspire compassion instead of disappointment, ensuring beneficial and workable relationships. Remember that you have only a short time together. Be grateful for each day you share”.[/blockquote]

I love to read.

Every morning, and when I first wake up—I dust off an old book, and sift through the pages waiting for inspiration to find me.

I’m a terrible book owner, by the way. My collection is well worn with pages bent, and notes scribbled along every open margin. I used to feel badly over ‘tarnishing’ those pages—until one day I realized, that’s what books are for.

Books should be well worn, and ravaged with every ounce of our being—with covers torn nearly all the way through. And each page should carry the faint scent of well-traveled, from this sleepy town to all points around the world.

And in my books this morning, and between two dog-eared pages, I found this most beautiful quote from Chagdud Tulku Rinpoche—spiritual leader, and teacher of the Nyingma school of Tibetan Vajrayana.

I had scribbled it down some many years before, this reminder that frustration is generally born out of the rigidity of our own expectation.

We expect one thing, and yet life…delivers us another. And, that little gap can send our minds spinning.

Sound familiar?

My dears, I can tell you from my own personal experience that I, too, have stumbled awkwardly along this pitted path of supposition. And, sometimes in our ‘looking back’ we wonder – was it even the ‘right’ path, after all?

But, what if – if only just for a moment – we might loosen expectation’s hold? To let those pieces scatter where they will, and trust that everything will be ok?

To release the energy of worry, and focus in on that which matters most of all;

The serenity of our very own spirit.

More specifically, to express gratitude for time spent together and sharing…knowing, that these moments are often too quickly passing.

And so, this is how inspiration found me today—in the margins of an dusty old book, one that I had carried for years, and with still just a bit of story left to tell.

My dears, when we’re able to act without expectation, you’ll find – that everything falls so brilliantly into place.

Much love, and namaste.

 

What the Garden Really Needs.

[blockquote source=”Herman Melville”]“We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men; and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects.” [/blockquote]

A violent storm moved through yesterday, with hail the size of quarters and winds that seemed never ending. At times, I felt as if the whole house might be lifted from its foundation – but, in fairness, I do have a writer’s imagination.

I made my way hesitatingly into the yard, expecting to see a scattered mess where the Peonies once bloomed. From the window, I could see the leafy debris strewn across the lawn, while snapped branches hung precariously above.

Even the early birds missed their ‘cue’, and the skies, were busy sopping up the greys from the night before.

I must admit, I was expecting the worst. Though, surprisingly, as I surveyed the yard – I noted only one true ‘casualty’ to that ferocious evening storm.

Laying toppled against the stone garden wall, was my favorite cast iron planter – its contents spilled against the ground. I had assumed by its weight, that it could withstand any storm. But, sadly, to my despair – it was the only thing that had succumbed.

I thought instantly of my daughter, who spent hours sifting through the nursery pallets to find that ‘perfect’ bloom. In the end, it was the rich ombré of periwinkle that captured her heart.

Imagine all that love going into such a tiny garden flower? And yet, now?

sigh…I couldn’t even begin to imagine my daughter’s disappointment.

She had wanted to find a place for them nearest the window, and instinctively a little closer to the ground. But I, convinced her otherwise – insisting this cast iron monstrosity would keep them safest from harm.

You see, I had been so caught up in their adornment, desperate to enhance their display – but, beauty for beauty’s sake is not what the flower needs.

Rather, its growth is deeply vested in its connection to all other things. Even in this muddied aftermath I could plainly see – that the plants most deeply rooted, were impacted the least.

Not even the heaviest of cast iron planters, could stand worthy in this regard.

Because, in the end, my darlings – it’s love which proves our strongest tie.

And, though we may at times feel so distinctly separate in our journey – trust, that there’s always something deeper there to connect us all.

The Gift These Gardens Bring.

[blockquote source=”Greg Livington”]”Shall we compare our hearts to a garden—with beautiful blooms, straggling weeds, swooping birds and sunshine and rain—and most importantly, seeds?“[/blockquote]

My darlings, I have always believed that when one shares a flower from their garden ~ they are not just giving of the bloom itself.

They are giving of the earth, which has been so carefully tilled and nourished…

They are giving of the sun, which has so diligently attended to even the smallest of bloom…

They are giving of their spirit, the very essence which secured the petals growth…

But mostly, they are giving of their love, the love infused throughout every living cell and which continues to share, again, with this world.

Feel the softness of the Peonies petals, and you will know instantly the extent of that care.

Look beyond where the wild lavender grows, and you’ll see the endless adventures all beginning at the tip of one little puppy dog’s nose.

My dears, a garden is comprised of so much more than its blooms. It is a representation of the delicate balance between the earth and the divine.

In looking out to this garden, there is never one flower I favor more than the other. To do so, would cause imbalance and suffering. For, as one single flower flourished, the rest would soon decline.

In Buddhism, this is referred to as ‘upeksha’ – meaning, a love which is shared with equanimity and non-attachment of spirit. Within it, there resides this seed of wisdom, which removes “all boundaries, discrimination and prejudices while leading to the sublime unity where there is no self and no other; without Upeksha, love becomes possessive.”

This is the foundation of true source love. One that transcends the limitations of desire, and offers the space for the heart to grow.

My dears, the moment our love becomes possessive, it begins to imprison us. And, what we first held as joy, may soon become our deepest pain.

But, when we are able to express love without limitation, my dears…just look at what is shared in return!

The Buddha once said that no matter what ‘poisons’ may befall this great earth – it will love us equally and without discrimination.

I like to view these gardens as a representation of that spirit – unwavering in its capacity to transcend.

How to Live this Life Completely.

[blockquote source=”Jonathan Safran Foer”]I regret that it takes a life to learn how to live.”[/blockquote]

There’s a story I quite love, about an old man of generous of spirit, who knelt each morning by the side of the Ganges River – and, in order to offer his prayers for this world.

And though, he was revered by most of the villagers, there were others who thought him to be fool. Why should one man give so much of himself, to a world that would never know the depths of his devotion?

They were convinced his naïveté would bring him harm.

But, every morning (and in spite of their rumblings) – still, he carried on.

Then one day, the old man saw a spider struggling against the rushing waters. And though, he knew the spider to be quite poisonous – still, he helped him anyway.

It was as he was placing the spider safely to the grass, that it turned to deliver a vicious sting.

But, miraculously the old man was unaffected – it seemed his kindness had diluted the spider’s poison.

Day after day, the old man return to pray. And, each day, he saw the very same spider struggling.

And, every day the old man was delivered the same poisonous sting.

“What’s the matter with you?” the spider pleaded, “Can’t you see that I will sting you every time? Because…because, that is what I do.”

“And, this,” the old man smiled in return, “this is what I do.”

The story is about being true to one’s spirit, and…to be genuine in your manifestation of self.

Interestingly enough, there’s a similar story about a frog and a scorpion – though, it’s meaning is quite the opposite, asking us to be ever-mindful of the true nature of others.

Isn’t it amazing how these two stories carry equal spiritual weight? One of caring, and the other of caution?

Perspective determines everything, my darlings.

In recent years, I’ve learned that the truest source of my spiritual bliss – is when I’ve faced the odds, and ‘done it anyway.’

In some ways, this diagnosis has become one of my greatest blessings – as, it forced me to face loss in an entirely different way; unafraid to step into the light of my being.

Oh, sure, I moped and sopped and carried on, but in the end, I realized,

Life goes on.

And, you can either take the reigns, or wallow in your own complaints.

In looking back, perhaps my diagnosis was my ‘spider’ – at first, a threat and then, a reminder.

That we must always carry on, my friends – and, no matter what those ‘spiders’ may say.

A Morning Full of Awakenings.

[blockquote source=”Buddha”]“Every morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most.”[/blockquote]

My dears, quite often we can become trapped inside the sentiment of our yesterday’s emotions.

As caring human beings, we so desperately want to ‘fix’ things – going to great lengths to explain our position, to offer a secondary point of view…or, sadly to dig ourselves toe deep into the muck of ‘needing so very much to be right.’

Have we become so disenchanted with Opportunity’s blessing? That we fail to understand that much deeper meaning, which rests beneath those daily distractions?

My dears, when you look out your window this morning – what do you see?

Do you see the hope that is inspired by the limitlessness of this life?

Do you feel the faith that is born again within the fullness of each new leaf?

Are you inexplicably drawn to Creativity’s spirit – beckoning from the richness of nature’s palette?

Or, is your mind locked up inside all of those moments that have already passed? Caught up in the foolishness of our ‘not ever letting go?’

[blockquote source=”Thích Nhất Hạnh”]“Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything – anger, anxiety, or possessions – we cannot be free.”[/blockquote]

My dears, every morning we are born once again; and it becomes our choice, how we may fulfill our destiny.

Every wish, every thought…every hope-filled dream…becomes, the softened threads in the fabric of our awakening.

What we do today is what matters most of all.

And, what we see out that ‘window’ determines our day.

 

Perfection Is Found In The Coming Back.

[blockquote source=”Eckhart Tolle”]”And suddenly you know. It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings…”[/blockquote]

I started Bikram yoga about a year ago, around the time I learned of this Parkinson’s ‘thing’…

I suppose, in a sense, I was searching for something – something a little bigger than this smallness of self. I was desperate to alleviate the anxiety of uncertainty – this ‘not knowing’ of the many years to come.

And, I found it right here, on a worn out old yoga mat – stuffed inside a 105 degree heated room, set at 30% humidity.

Oh, and how I hated it. I absolutely hated how that room made me feel – the gasping breaths, the wobbling twists, and that full length gaze into the mirror. I could see all of it – every detail of my every imperfection.

And, it made me feel so darned vulnerable. But, what I didn’t seem to realize at the time – was that, it wasn’t every really the room’s ‘fault’, at all.

Rather, this discomfort was simply a byproduct of my own revealing.

And, with each class…every tear, every bead of sweat…layer upon layer was removed;

Chipping pieces of my stubborn outer shell away, until, one day, finally, this ‘butterfly’ emerged.

[blockquote source=”Rumi”]”This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all!”[/blockquote]

And, that I did, most graciously.

Some days were wonderful, as I slipped easily in and out of postures – mind cleared of any mutterings on. And other days, well – they weren’t so very perfect.

Those were the days that challenged me most of all.

It can be quite terrifying to face down our own weaknesses. Our pulse may race, and stomachs wrench under the pressures of finally looking behind that door…to find out more of who we really are.

But, as I learned through the kindness and grace of my teachers…

“Perfection is found in our coming back.”

And, we must always come back, my dears. For, nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to learn.

[blockquote source=”Rumi”]”Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably.He may be clearing you out for some new delight.”[/blockquote]

Through our instability, we find focus and strength…and, through imperfection, an unwavering purpose and resolve.

But, you’ll never, ever find it, my dears – if you are too afraid of this coming back.

All of our bumps and bruises, these wobbles and shakes – they are, perhaps, the most critical tools to our moving on.

Without them, we might not ever know what it means to fall on our face…nor, understand the importance of not ever giving up.

Hint: Everyone tumbles, my dears. And, everyone will eventually fall. So, stop worrying so much about what the ‘others might think.’ I assure you, they’ve enough troubles on their own.

[blockquote source=”Rumi”]“The dark thought, the shame, the malice…meet them at the door laughing and invite them in. Be grateful for whatever comes. Because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.”[/blockquote]

Indeed, this being human is a guesthouse, and every morning there is a new arrival –

Greet them all with resolve and courage, knowing, full well, that without them…

We might not ever realize the most beautiful ‘pieces of you.’

Much love, and namaste my dears…

A Little Something Extra In Your Day.

[blockquote source=”Jimmy Johnson”]The difference between ordinary and extraordinary is that little something extra.[/blockquote]

I had a few extra moments to get ready this morning, the result of all these ‘mountains’ of snow this last storm graciously left in its path. And though, there really wasn’t much of any snow at all – who am I, on this day, to complain?

Oh, and it felt so good to have those few extra moments puttering about – and to do with my time, just anything I wished.

I had time for a decaf with a little extra ‘shmootz’…

And, a few extra moments spent cuddling with Nudnick…

And, all of those many things mulling about in my mind? Well, I finally found the time to consider them.

But, more important than anything, at all – were these few extra moments I discovered to breathe.

My dears, I must admit I am guilty, at times, of trying to get far too much done in one single day – that I forget the necessity of a much-needed rest. A respectful pause to cherish this earth, in a manner that captures the fullness of my attention.

And, all this from a few extra snowflakes.

Come to think of it, I wish all of my days had a little extra ‘extra-ness’….

I remember, my grandmother used to say, “Once a moment has passed, it is gone forever.”

And, she was right, you know  – she understood the importance taking time for those ‘extra’ things in our lives.

We end up missing all those simpler things, that transfix our gaze and lend the blessings of wonderment to our spirit.

My dears, they say there will come a day when the earth shall grow quiet – leaving, only the sound of our hearts to offer us comfort.

Well then, my dears, if that is the case – I should hope it might resonate with the sound of all this extra-ness in our days.

 

The Magic of the Snowflake’s Journey.

[blockquote source=”Rebecca Nichols Alonzo”]Layer upon layer of soft-packed snowflakes settled in near silence, forming a quilt of feathery ice crystals.[/blockquote]

I love when snow falls in powdered flakes, sifting gently towards the earth and holding softness as it’s only purpose.

And, though no two are ever quite the same – they are brilliantly united in shared destination. Each, with the unique opportunity of choosing the very best way of getting there.

It’s this dissonance that forms their bridge – between the chasms of separate, and the sanctity of inter-connectedness.

Perhaps, that’s why I am so very drawn to them…at once, a curiosity…soon giving way to a much needed reminder…

That, though we humans are vastly different in our construct and form – we are still bound by the very same, undeniable sense of purpose…

In the end, separated only by our journey.

My dears, have you ever stopped to wonder why? That the truest joy is found in those much simpler things?

Such as, two little snowflakes forming gently against the window pane…always different, yet still very much the same…

And sharing this most important lesson…

That sometimes, it’s the journey that is our only purpose.