One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
their bad advice —
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voice behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do —
determined to save
the only life that you could save.
I heard somewhere that you should take a break after every 90 minutes of work. It’s been a day of laundry and cleaning, of cooking food and parenting my child…and the neighbor’s children by proxy. So now I need a break. My break is writing.
While I work around the house, I listen to music and the occasional motivational video or TED talk. Today I came across this one.
“I look past the behavior to see the person. Every single person has infinite value in our eyes. We don’t ignore the behavior, but we recognize that every behavior has a reason. We try to be present. ”
“If we can create an environment where someone can be who they are, and feel what they feel, that’s the place that healing can begin.”
This is so beautiful.
Which got me thinking…how can we make our homes healing places? For our children and for ourselves.
“Keep your eyes on the stars and your feet on the ground.”-Theodore Roosevelt
Why do we need to keep our feet on the ground? Because we are trees…let the roots run deep but stretch yourself as high in the sky as you can go. The Wisdom of Trees is a book in the works. Every great spiritual teacher has something to do with trees, isn’t that interesting? Jesus and the cross, Buddha and the Bodhi tree.
I’ve been gazing at the stars as long as I can remember. But keeping my feet on the ground, rooting myself to the earth is what drives the vision and the dream. Taking thought and vision, then getting my feet and hands dirty in the earth. The work, the tears, the grit.
Horsewomen know these things. We know what its like to cough up dirt after a bad fall, to be thrown down by something we love, then rise up without anger and saddle-up again. We know the wisdom of the fall, and that partnership is mistake after mistake, growing and rebuilding, changing ourselves to connect and communicate. The wisdom of speaking without words takes years.
I like a little dirt under my nails, reminds me to stay grounded. It reminds me that I have fallen, that I have picked myself up from that fall without anger and malice, pushing the pain aside, seeing past fear and said, “Let’s try again.”
Giving up…is something, that I don’t do well. So when I saw this quote, I relaxed a bit. Some of us are visionaries, some of us, are just so gosh darn stubborn we can’t and won’t give up, even when we are down on our back with the world pressing a knife into our chest.
The heart of a visionary can be pierced and broken and still beat.
We will always try one more time, recalculate, reformulate, change our perspective, change ourselves.
We know there is something bigger than ourselves calling us closer to it.
One of my favorite spots in any musical composition is the pause, the breath before the note, the silence in between musical sentences. There is so much said in silence.
Take the angry silence between two people who love each other, everything they want to say is there, said and unsaid, in the stare.
The precious silence in a prayer, where we empty ourselves, calming the mind…to listen to what lies in the depths of our souls.
In contemplation, in non-duality, in sitting in silence where there is pain and joy. Right there, in the silence, it is a pregnant pause of possibility, which way will it go, who will dive in first, who will dip there hand in the water, reaching deep for what lies underneath?
It is this silence where I have learned the most about myself, those I love, divinity, creation…everything…everything is in the fullness of silence.
Every moment I get, I will celebrate this man. Pope of my patron Saint Francis, Pope of my heart, Pope who embodies the incarnation of Christ.
Some songs are just who we are…
Bees, Ohio, I never married…