If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change.
Buddha
Learning To See The Miracles
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The Gifts of Other Beings
Gratitude is founded on the deep knowing that our very existence relies on the gifts of other beings.
Robin Wall KimmererLatest news this morning shows the Alexander Mountain FIre to be held at 9,668 acres and is 74% contained. The Stone Canyon Fire is 100% contained. Grateful the skies are returning to their blue color! I found this bee enjoying their time on a sunflower the other afternoon at the CSU Experiment Garden. I really need to thank them more often for being the gift they are and not just as a photographer’s subject.
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Take another one
American Takii The way to think about photography is that the next frame you shoot will be the definitive one. Everybody takes one picture and says, ‘Well, I’ve got it.’ Take another one, and always believe that the one you haven’t taken will be even better.
John Shaw
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A Cloud
I wandered lonely as a cloud
William Wordsworth (1802)
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils. -
My Commute
I am not sure how many days I commuted to and from work but I am grateful I no longer commute to work. However, this morning on my walk/bus ride to the coffee shop I was aware I still commute, yet it does not seem like a commute. While commuting to work, my mind was already at work, figuring, planning, scheduling, arguing, and already building resentments. This meant I was not mentally present for the commute. Wonder how many gifts nature was offering me and I missed them?
So I’m going to share with you a bit of my commute to coffee this morning. (Sorry if it bores you.) We had a cloudless blue sky. Apple blossoms reminding me it’s spring. A squirrel watching my every move. A cottontail checking out their reflection in the car. Early morning shadows. Spring flowers and new leaves on campus. Heard the cooing of a morning dove and the cry of a hawk. And then when I arrived at Mugs my barista, Emma, offered her wonderful smile and made me a mocha. Yes, I still commute but it’s different. I have an open slate on my calendar, so I plan to do a bit of reading and writing, in the sun. Enjoy your Friday.
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A life-giving act
White Prickly Poppy Listening is always a life giving act.
Joan ChittisterI’ve learned that when positioning my next words in a conversation I am no longer listening. I’ve proven that too many times. I’ve also seen in the eyes of another when they are no longer listening. I have also experienced the gift of fully listening to another as well as knowing the gift of being listened to. Seems that those life giving conversations happen when both are experienced by both. My reflection and journaling on her quote have lead me to see other areas in my life where listening is important such as prayer, or when an author or poet expresses in words what I needed to hear, or a bird’s song of joy, or the whisper/howling of the wind, or the words written in the pages of my journal or the knowing voice deep within. I agree that every moment of listening is a life-giving act for both parties. Hope you enjoy your Sunday!
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Happy Memorial Day
“To live a spiritual life requires that we choose the values that will ground our hearts, stretch our vision, and give new energy to our hopes.”
Joan Chittister -
The Gift of Knowing You
Blue Flax along the Poudre River I read of a man who stood to speak
The Dash Poem (By Linda Ellis)
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
From the beginning…to the end
He noted that first came the date of birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years
For that dash represents all the time
That they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
Know what that little line is worth
For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile,
Remembering this special dash
Might only last a little while
So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash…
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent YOUR dash?This poem was read at the Celebration of Life yesterday for our friend and loved one, Antonella (Toni). The poem does call us to think about how we want to live out all of our years in between those two significant dates of birth and death. I remember her smile, that grin which sometimes had that mischievous look. I am grateful to have received the gift of knowing you. You will be missed, my friend!
Here is a link to a recording of the author reading the poem.
