meditation

by

Close Encounters of the Amazing

Gazing out my breakfast window

a hummingbird flew

to face me and stayed there

wings fast fluttering

for

time standing still seconds.

Looking out the same window

at lunchtime

the evanescent bird

savored the nectar of the row of

hosta flowers.

Over summers past

we have put feeders

in the garden.

Rarely did this offering

compete with the real

usually pink, red, purple

real sips of

the 1,500 flowers

needed in a day.

Once,

holding a young grandchild,

a hummingbird came almost

eye to eye

with me.

My red flowered hat

attracted a very close visit

and then

flew to the garden

for the real thing!

Hummingbirds

breathe

250 times a minute

with a resting heartbeat of

500 beats per minute.

In flight their hearts rev to

1,500 beats a minute.

600-800 insects daily

provide more energy.

East Coast ruby-throated hummingbirds

migrate to the

Gulf of Mexico in the winter,

a 21 hour non-stop flight!

When first seen

there,

they were called

“resurrection birds.”

Close encounters

are ordinary miracles.

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Where To Begin

You

do not

convince

people

with arguments,

strategies,

or tactics.

You

convince them

by learning

how to

welcome

them.

For that,

it is

necessary

to keep

doors

open,

above all

the doors

to the heart.

Pope Francis, South America, July, 2015

Let there be peace

on Earth.

And let it

begin

with me!

by

Coming Together

Through the virtual world

we come together

to celebrate

triumphs like

the U.S.

Women’s Soccer Team winning the World Cup.

We mourn

together when tragic events

occur

all too frequently.

Recently,

in my town

adults and children

gathered on the lawn

of one of the churches

for an interfaith service.

Each different clergy person

spoke or prayed

with those gathered together.

Some places of worship

no longer

are filled weekly

with people of their faiths.

Coming together

from time to time

as members of the community

strengthens each in their own faith

and

conveys that

even though it is

important for us each to pray

in our own traditions

that we realize that we are

on the

same wave length

acknowledging

our God,

our Source,

our Light.

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An Unexpected Rainbow

June has been quite dry,

little rain.

While eating dinner

last night,

the sky opened with a loud roar

and heavy rain fell down

refreshing the greenery,

washing the pollens

and dust, leaving everything

looking shiny and refreshed.

The view out the back

is wooded and buildings.

As the pelting rain

eased up,

the remnants of

the sun pierced through

and a rainbow appeared.

Rainbows don’t usually

show up

with the blocked view.

An unexpected rainbow.

We stood and paused,

in the moment

in wonder.

I cannot tell you

how long we stood there

as the rainbow’s edges

faded into the sky

or wherever

rainbows go

after astonishing us.

An unexpected rainbow

can be the bridge

to the surprise

and mystery of life.

Where do they

begin

and where do they end?

Perhaps the rainbow

takes a leap from

one place to another and begins again.

Discovering

as a young child does,

experiencing things

in the moment

never the same,

as we bridge our own lives to another’s.

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Revelation, Celebration

“Sunlight fell

upon the wall;

the wall received a borrowed

splendor.

Why set your heart

on a piece of earth,

O simple one?

Seek out the source

which shines forever.”

Rumi, Sufi mystic poet

“The universe unfolds in God,

who fills us

completely.

Hence,

there is a mystical

meaning to be found

in a leaf,

in a mountain trail,

in a dewdrop,

in a poor person’s face.”

Pope Francis in Laudato Si his encyclical on the environment

Praise Be to You

“The initiate

will capture

what is being said

when the wind blows,

the trees sway,

water flows,

flies buzz,

doors creak,

birds sing,

or in the

sound of strings or flutes,

the sighs of the sick,

the groans

of the afflicted.”

Ali-al-Khawas, a 9th century mystical  Sufi Muslim poet

by

Seesaw

Did you play

on a seesaw

as a child

or maybe be lured to a

big one in a park?

Balancing

back and forth is

made easier

if the other rider

is about

the same size.

If a different

height or weight

the back and forth

requires closer

attention.

Imagine the momentary,

usually fleeting moment

when the riders

are evenly balanced

on the triangle stand

in the middle.

Three lines

visualized

in my mind

remind me

of the seesaw.

An upside down V

two lines,

and one line

evenly placed at the top of the

upside down

V.

Life

is usually more of the

back and forth,

sometimes

smoothly exchanging

the upper

with the lower.

Fleeting

stillness

when both sides

are

just

paused

in balance.

I try

to notice

the moment of stillness.

Grateful.

I am also aware

that the

seesaw of my life

can be going

back and forth,

abruptly.

I need

to adjust

my balance.

Sometimes

the weight on

the other side of the

seesaw

disappears

and

I am thrown

off balance

and realize

I must

re-establish

my

inner

gyroscope

on my own.

There are times

when

I am unaware

of how little

can upset

my sense of

being

in

balance.

by

Do You REALLY LISTEN?

As the title of John Gray’s book says,

“Men are from Mars,

Women are from Venus.”

Men want to solve problems.

Women want to be heard, share emotions.

Listening might be the answer for both.

Steinfeld, another sage,

told a joke

about listening.

When asked whether

his wife

ever

said

“You don’t listen”

he replied,

“I’ve never heard her say that!”

As I laughed,

a lightbulb went off

in my head.

After decades of marriage,

my husband will often say

what I just said.

This is not from many years

of marriage and the comment

that people finish each other’s sentences.

My insight

is that

sometimes

he is listening inside his head to his own thoughts

and doesn’t actually HEAR

what I am saying.

It is his inner dialogue,

not a conversation.

I am not

pointing the finger at him

but the reality

about listening in general.

Studies have shown

that

only 7% of what we say

is understood

in the way

we intend it.

It is a wonder

that

we understand each other

at all.

Men and women,

children and parents,

people who work together,

any human interaction.

What I am learning

is

to test the meaning,

what is being understood.

We may think

we know what we mean

and are conveying that.

We may not be heard

or we may not listen

or

the way in which

it is said or written,

is not the intention and meaning.

CLARIFY!

by

Too Much in Your Pack?

Are you carrying a lot on your shoulders?

Assume a quiet state of mind.

Visualize.

Think of a pack on your back.

What is in the pack?

What is making it too heavy to carry?

See yourself

removing the weight from the pack.

How does it feel now?

Do you need to remove more weights from your pack

so that you can carry it?

How do you feel now?

Sometimes we don’t know

how much we are carrying

until we lighten the load.

LivingLines p. 235

by

Legacy

On Memorial Day

we honor

those who serve and served.

For some

it is a particularly

poignant time.

Some served and

remember those who died.

For families

who lost someone

it is a time

to be open with their grief.

For each of us,

we may serve in other ways

than the battlefield.

How do you live your life?

Consciously

or

unconsciously

of ways to serve.

For me,

I have learned to

no longer

make a plan

for my life

but to respond

to the things

and people

in my life

who are

part of a pattern or plan

I cannot see.

At the end of the movie

Saving Private Ryan,

a memorable reflection

can become our filter.

I’ve tried to live

my life

the best

I can.

I hope that

is enough.

Your

legacy,

my legacy.

Today

and everyday.

Serve.

by

White

Only four weeks

since

white covered

every surface

with snow,

ice

mountains called

snow farms

to remove

snow from the streets.

Hint by hint

of color,

shoots of green first,

snow-bells

tiny crocus.

Yellow daffodils,

forsythia,

fairy pink little

tree blossoms.

Now tulips

in bright array.

Two weeks ago,

as I opened my front door,

a hint of flutter.

Oh yes,

my first petite

white butterfly.

In my guide book

described as ghost butterflies,

for me

always

Spirits.

Then in the park,

sitting with my sister,

the second Spirit white.

A week later,

at the beach,

the third.

Today,

waiting for a traffic light to change,

another.

Each time

I pause.

These white

simply colored

butterflies

appear earlier than

the fancy dressed

colored Monarchs.

During Spring and Summer

there are many more.

Later in the Fall,

the last hurrahs,

 on a warm day.

Always, I pause.

Each,

like a prayer of presence

for me.

I am not startled

by their brilliance.

They calm me

into a

prayerful thanks.