Sunday, December 23, 2012

Dear You. (a perspective on failure).

Dear Beautiful Spirit~
Today, please know that every time you "fail" at something, you succeed at another. Failure can seem like such a big deal in our culture. Sometimes, we can be so afraid of it, we don't even look to achieve the outcome we would like to imagine. Or maybe, we forgot after years and years how to imagine. Does it feel daring to imagine?
Even if one "fails" at what is attempted, and does not reach the expected outcome, life is a series of experiences and experiments from moment to moment, each just as worthy as the next. Each experience is just that, an experience. Failure can be perceived as an outcome that is unexpected, or a new branch that has sprouted with fresh opportunity from which we can see new blossoms born, or a perception from our own personal inner observer, or a teacher.
You are always succeeding at something.
Much Love,

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

The Perfect Stranger

Reflecting the Golden Buddha

As she cornered the angled wooden shelves of records in her sleek and silent wheelchair, she jutted out to the room, "I think I may  have dropped a book on the shelf behind me." Of the other women seated knitting or nursing on the couch, I was the first and most eagerly able to extend assistance. Bending down to pick up the book, I could feel her presence behind me, patiently awaiting and expecting my contact. A small, silver haired woman met me with grandmotherly eyes and a professorial attitude.

Upon allowing myself to share intimate space, while making extended eye contact, she asked me to retrieve a large book on Thai sculpture. As I held it steadily over her lap and slowly flipped the pages, I became her hands. She took in and admired each era's regional treasures. One in particular, she said, reminded her of a knee-high golden Buddha statue she had for decades from her partner. I remarked that I liked a particular one and she replied it appeared Italian. It seemed as if she knew my background. She knew a lot. Quite a few moments later, I was still piqued and commented that perhaps I like that one so much since my ancestry is Italian. She responded simply, "I know."
We flipped back to the cover to find the cost of this "rare" book was $70. She still mused of purchasing it.

"We are all reflections of the Buddha, you know," she told me. And, I told her, "yes, and that is why it is best when we are openly ourselves, and share our gifts." We traded more treasured secrets, some of which accredited personal experiences, and bared mystical and universal truths. What a gift to be completely present and hold sacred space for each other.
She chose to have the heavy, dictionary-like book of sculpture returned to the shelves. Then she asked me to choose a book that was of interest to me. Covering the shelves were books on many varying topics from Martin Scorcese to Neandrathals, Wild Gardens to Natural Pharmacy. Initially, I thought I might turn to my typical areas of interest, with books from Rudolf Steiner, John Holt, and many others, covering the philosophy of natural learning, nourishing the whole child and spirituality. Unreasonably, I stayed where we were and pulled a book of portraits. This particular book was a collection of photos that had stirred me before, when I was much younger, thumbing through National Geographic magazines, dreaming of being a world traveling writer and photographer.

People have always been my "thing". From a young age, I loved Archeology and Natural History, and later - Anthropology and Social Psychology. At one point, I created my own written and photograpic portfolio of people. She knew this, she must have. She knew I had a free hour while my kids were in watercolor class. She must have responded to the recent wish of mine to meet an older, female, unrelated mentor. She knew how to reach me, how to hold space for me to open up, and how to remind me of who I am as a person. What I love. What I do. What I am good at. "I'm something of a Life Coach, too," she said. "I know," I said through a full smile. The contents of the books, both the archaeological Thai sculpture book and the book of portraits were reflections of the Buddha.

My favorite exchanges, teachings, or observations are the ones that ripple out and multiply, days, weeks, months, or years later. Touched by the unfamiliar, I showed up and accepted the immediate invitation, clutching me in consistency, while harvesting a golden Buddha.

Saturday, October 13, 2012


Autumn has always astounded me, nourished me, and brought me home.
Whether *I AM* or not, *AUTUMN IS*.
A cycle in itself to witness, or no mind if you won't.
An imminent moment before, delicately extended on the verge of ordainment.
A revival of will. A resuscitation of purpose. Reinvention. A shift, a vibrant transformation.
Each leaf individually bold, then as BOLD as can be, and. . . release.

Feet planted in deciduous earth, head pointed upward towards the harvest sky,

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Being in Truth. Bold in Action.

Now is the time to be *YOU* with BOLD action and beingness in truth. Your entire hand of cards are at play with your life's purpose. No need for a redraw, or to skip any more turns. Your true path is paved by your experiences, both perceived mistakes/failures and perceived triumphs/successes. You weren't made as a shrink to fit pattern, seeing what is needed in the world to alter yourself accordingly. You were meant to be BOLDly *YOU*. Sometimes, you may get sidetracked or fooled into thinking you need to change to fit in and find your place. . .when the truth is, by being *YOU*, there is fulfillment for all. You are ever changing, never static, always learning and moving. Where there is movement, there is life. Be that which makes you ALIVE!

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Sharing and Holding Sacred Space

Having my grandmother in my life well into my adulthood has been a generous, life-enriching gift that I count among my highest blessings. Not only have I had appreciation for her as my grandma, I value and admire her as a phenomenal woman on the planet. Her life has not only impacted my own and the lives of my family, I have grown to know her as a woman of strength, perseverance and wisdom.

There have been times in my life when I’ve been asked, “if you can have lunch with three people deceased or alive, who would those people be?” Family members, such as my other grandma (no longer living) were always on my list, and so I always understood the value of just one more hug, question, or loving testament.

Recently, I returned from a visit to my grandmother who is 92 and ill. Not sure of how much time she has left, made each and every moment extra meaningful, as I allowed each of my senses to fully take in each moment, as I knew I’d wish to recall them at a later date, after her physical presence was available to me.

I sat with her, knowing I would be leaving soon to return to my home state. I let her know how much I would miss her and she told me she hated to see me go. As I felt tears well up, my mind reeled through all these things I wanted to tell her about how much she has meant to me in my life. . .things I have told her and written to her many times before. 

Instead, this time I felt the sacred space. The space that transcends words. The space of divine honor. It’s a knowing and vast space within the heart that connects in an instant and holds truth and all that is real. Sometimes, love and appreciation is beyond words.

Have you acknowledged sacred space?
Where did the opportunity to honor sacred space last show up for you?
What do you remember about your feelings at the time?

A Hug to Last a Lifetime
The smell of fresh laundry
soft over-washed cotton on my face
creamy coffee’s aroma
sunshine yellow warmth.
Crooked hands mended over a thousand holes and hurts,
pulled me near and my heart strengthened, with love.