Tag: simplicity

Engaging Our Inward Counsel.

Someone once shared with me that the purpose of this life is too encourage our gratitude. And, to that end, remove whatever it is that keeps is from being whole.

I was just 25 at the time, newly married and intent on creating the ‘perfect home.’ I took great care to ensure the simple things – a well-appointed home, notes in his lunch, and always a hug upon his return.

And, when the children were born I embraced my new role with great care and dedication, placing each need ‘rightfully’ before my own.

But, as the years passed my marriage fell apart. I felt empty on most days and lonely on the better ones. In all my attempts to create a warm and loving environment, I had failed to take the necessary steps for me – to feel whole, to feel complete, to feel of value.

I began to long for the freedom of my former self. I wanted peace and simplicity…a renewal of purpose. Though ironically what I wanted was already there – yet sadly obscured.

It was me; my choices, my faith and my willingness to be made whole.

“You can’t give from an empty well,” my mother would say. Whereas, certainly this is true – there is another aspect often disregarded. That is the allowance of self while in service to others.

“Be, don’t try to become,” Osho reminds. “You are already a masterpiece.” It is the ‘softer acceptance’, so to speak; our capacity to understand that our life is never without meaning.

That we are that meaning.

And what we seek is not to be discovered, rather realized. Waiting for our inward counsel.

A little something to consider, my friends.

In peace…

Namaste ❣️

The Finer Things.

At some point in our lives, that which once mattered most of all is replaced by the finer things. Something we perhaps secretly longed though never believed to be there.

Like the sound of stillness punctuated by the clamoring of trash bin lids, men calling from the backs of trucks and little ones racing to greet the new day.

Or, the softly curled scent rising from the mug of freshly brewed coffee ‘shared’ with a friend.

We find ‘more’ often with ‘less’; as time shares alms to wearied traveler.
All the while, patience abides; the river flows never knowing ‘end’.

Is it faith, or is it will – which helps us find our way again?

In peace…

Namaste ❤️

In the Stillness of Rain.

I was having such difficulties writing this morning, the result I’m sure of a restless night’s sleep.

It happens, you know, from time to time – the mind reaches, though to no avail. And, generally when our hearts are seeking.

Through the years I’ve learned, some matters can not be forced. Rather, they must be revealed…in and of its own way.

Just as gratitude within an unyielding rain. And, the tenacity of speckled lead against the howling winds. Our kingdom awaits through lessened pace.

This is the essence of life’s gentle unfolding — patience, simplicity and willingness. In this way, the nature of self is revealed.

Wishing you peace, my loves. And, remember…

Where the mind is still, we find our bliss.

Namaste ❤️

What Does Love Truly Mean?

I once met a man many years ago; his smile exuded that of a tempered patience and a willingness to ‘always look past.’

No matter the circumstances, nor dire the condition – he’s simply nod and say, “this too shall pass.”

To him, all of life was an exercise in impermanence. “Why should I worry,” he’d ask “when it’s already changing.”

One day he joined me as I was sitting alone on a garden bench. The smoke from his pipe trailed circles in the air, reminding me of my father’s favorite tobacco. “You know, my father smoked a pipe,” I smiled and leaned forward, drawing a breath big enough to fill my lungs.

“Ms. Tara,” he winked, chewing his pipe. “That feeling right there, should be with you every moment.”

It was my first exposure to the ease of being fully present – a simple memory predicated upon a tobacco’s sweetened leaf. From that moment on, whenever feeling overwhelmed – I let memory fall back to that single moment in time.

When my father passed away, I was asked which items I most wanted – only one, a tinder box filled with each of his old pipes. Now I have the memory to hold in hand, though – the one carried in heart is far better still.

Following his passing, I came across an old letter penned just after this meeting with my friend. I had cried on the phone explaining how much I missed him, to which he said – you can’t miss what’s always there.

Love – love is the gift my father always shared with me; unconditionally and without expectation.

The signature from that letter is now penned to my wrist, viewable each and every time I write.

True story, my loves – and one I wish to share with you today. A little something to consider throughout your day.

Love transcends all barriers, my darlings. And love is what ultimately heals all.

In peace…

Namaste ❤️

In The Stillness of This Moment.

Isn’t it amazing what happens when we’re still?

When something as simple as a hand extended could offer such hope to the will?

“Stillness reveals the secrets of eternity,” writes Lao Tzu. And, in this split second of marveled wonder – spirit finds its wisdom.

When I was much younger, I used to view heaven as one of those imponderables – something far bigger than any 8-year-old heart might hold.

But, now I see it everywhere – on speckled leaves, and goldfish ‘wings’; through heron’s glide across the summer breeze.

Stillness reveals itself to me – a simple virtue, one single flow.

In her grace, we find a limitless acceptance – a renewal of hope, a deepened compassion.

In this space, be still – silence your mind and listen. “Let the voice of your soul echo and shine!”

Look deeply, my friends – and knowing that the sweetest melody plays in the simplicity of this moment.

When Less Means So Much More.

[blockquote source=”Natalie Babbitt”]“Like all magnificent things, it’s very simple.”[/blockquote]

I still remember my very first day of elementary school. I had spent weeks looking forward to this day – my mind spilling with the excitement of yet another brand new adventure.

My mother, an artist, had taken such great care to send me with only the very best of supplies – to include, a hand-stitched red stocking hat and a brand new box of 16 Crayola crayons.

The bus ride seemed to last forever. With every stop, I fidgeted impatiently. “Why must they walk so slowly?” The anticipation was nearly overwhelming, and…against my mother’s sternest of warnings, I pulled out that box and opened it.

The colors were so magnificent – mulberry and mint and a crisp shade of violet-blue. I ran my fingers of their ‘sharpened’ wax tips, imagining all the masterpieces I had yet to create.

I was like a child at Christmas waiting for Art Class to ‘arrive.’

9:56…9:57…then, finally, 10 o’clock!

I raced through my desk, eager to show off my newest acquisition. “My mom makes art,” I had rehearsed these words so many times over again in my head. I mean, with so many magnificent colors, I was certain that my artwork would be the best in town.

Until I looked around, and saw…that on every single desk surrounding me was a much larger box of 64.

I must say, I felt a bit betrayed. I mean, how could my mother has missed such a thing? She always took such great care in making sure we had all that was needed.

I watched as the others drew such bold scenes. Rainbows with indigo, and clouds traced with blizzard blue. Why, even the little girl sitting next to me drew a sun with 5 different colors.

With just 16 sad little colors, how could I ever compete?

I could hardly hold back the tears, as I walked through our kitchen door. The ‘masterpiece’ I’d created earlier had been relegated to the very bottom of my book bag. I was simply too embarrassed to share it with my mother, ‘the artist.’

I must have cried for at least an hour before my mother entered my room – in her hand, the uncrumpled drawing I had so desperately tried to destroy.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a tree more magnificent than this,” she smiled as tears formed in her eyes. You see, what I had assumed might be destined for the trash, was – for my mother – the greatest expression of love.

And, it had absolutely nothing to do with the number of crayons I had used to create it.

You see, love comes from within, my darlings…and creativity, is an expression of our joy.

“I believe that we are all creative beings and that no matter what you’ve been told – you were placed here on this earth to create something of value to the world. Something that will help others break free, something that lights you up with passion and something that is larger than just you.” – Mastin Kipp

That little tree, in all of its simplicity, had the capacity to transform my mother’s whole world.

Because, my dearest darlings…in art, as it is in life…sometimes less is more.

A Reminder of Much Simpler Days.

“Like all magnificent things, it’s very simple.” ― Natalie Babbit

My darlings, do you remember the excitement in collecting fall leaves?

As a child, I couldn’t wait for Autumn—as it meant our elementary school class would take a trip to the local Nature Preserve. We’d wander for hours through those forest trails—taking pencil etchings from the bark of Maple trees, unwavering in our quest for ‘just the right leaf.’

Sassafras was always my favorite—with mittened hands, ready for winter, it was her sweet smell that drew me in.

My teacher knew the best technique for preserving leaves—pressed between two sheets of waxed paper, with the heat of the iron causing the colors to burst.

Come to think of it, I may still have a few of these fall masterpieces…set aside for posterity, a reminder of much simpler days.

My darlings, there’s such greatness in simplicity; when a mountain stream can carry a symphony, and these woods…keep us company for hours.

 

Finding Happiness in the Littlest of Things.

Philosopher Frederich Nietzsche once said, “How little suffices for happiness! The least thing precisely, the gentlest thing, the lightest thing, a lizards’s rustling, a breath, a wink, an eye glance—little maketh up the best happiness.”

It was in this rare moment of silence that he realized—it’s the littlest things that bring us closest to God.

Now, whether you prescribe to Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, or Buddhism—there’s no mistaking, that something quite extraordinary greets us within these moments of stillness.

Oh, but how easily we are pulled away—with restlessness seizing our awareness, and throwing mindfulness into a cage.

In doing so, we end up missing those much smaller things. Like the canopy of trees, with bursts of gold and scarlet red. Or, those subtle hints of aster peppered amongst the green.

We miss what it means to be free—to love this life, just as it is.

In her book, Only This, poet Dorothy Hunt shares, “In this never-ending flow of life, there is an infinite array of choices. One alone brings happiness—to love what is.”

Indeed, to love what is. To pay attention with all senses, to take those tiny miracle in. To see the glory in an old dusted trail; to find adventure, to be compelled.

To see the miracle in those much simpler things—my darlings, this is what it means to be free.