Month: August 2022

There is so much sorrow and grief in the world. There always has been. What matters is how we live with it. Do we give up, throw in the towel and despair, or can we have hope in one another? Can we take solace in the beauty of the world, in Her majesty and splendor?

When I am unsure, I rest in the present moment and give thanks for all that I have – hands to write with, lungs to breathe with, a heart and soul with which to give thanks and praise.

That’s all I need to live with grace – gratefulness in the moment.

Prayer for Knowledge

I ask that the grace of Knowledge guide my thoughts and illuminate my awareness of all that transpires within the vast resources of my mind. Grant me the inner light to enter into a deeper knowledge of who I am and help me to listen to that still, small voice that is unlike any other, that I might recognize truth when it is being revealed to me.

-- Caroline Myss, Defy Gravity, p. 156

One of the things I’ve learned to do in my long marriage of 39 years is ignore my husband. Well, no, not ignore, because I pay attention a great deal. I guess what I mean is to not react to certain things he does or says.

Like the other night when we misunderstood one another as to who was preparing dinner.

So, when at ten minutes before seven I find him banging around in the kitchen and I asked what’s the matter? And he said I thought you were going to cook, I didn’t react. What I thought was H.A.L.T.—hungry, angry, lonely, tired. He was tired and hungry, having worked all day in the yard. I felt a little cringey on the edges, like wilting just a bit and realized I was hungry myself, which tends to make me irritable, and figured it was only a matter of getting food into both our systems.

When I didn’t react, he settled down, apologized and we had a civil and decent meal together.

I’ve learned to let go, to live and let live, to know when something is important and when something is not. My husband and I do common things differently. For example, we load the dishwasher differently. What does it matter if he loads a bowl one way and I do it another? I let it go.

When we were young, we made so many things important that weren’t. Today, we mind our own business, and the business that is ours together we don’t take so seriously. On a day-to-day basis, that sure makes getting along a lot easier.

Only with equanimity can we see that everything that comes into our circle has come to teach us what we need to know.

Pema Chödrön, Comfortable with Uncertainty, p. 62

Yesterday, my husband and I went on an impromptu hike up in the mountains. We came across a flock of monarch butterflies and one species I wasn’t familiar with, a kind of tiger butterfly in tawny spotted golds and browns. It was a shy butterfly and kept its distance, unlike the others that fed on flowers without a care for our presence. This shy one fluttered farther away as I approached until it disappeared and didn’t come back. I regretted disturbing her meal.

I was glad to be wearing my new, sturdy hiking boots on this rocky and sometimes muddy trail. We climbed to the top, and as we descended, we met a family of three, a mother, father, and a young boy climbing up the way we had just come. I noticed the father and mother were wearing flip-flops. At least the boy had on sneakers. I almost exclaimed aloud — you’re hiking in sandals? But I didn’t, thank goodness. My better angels stopped my tongue. As the family passed and I held my tongue, I thanked my wisdom in keeping my thoughts to myself. Instead, I prayed that none of them suffered a twisted ankle or stubbed toe and experienced nothing other than very dirty if perhaps sore feet at the end of the trail.

In the past, I would have said something, having not yet learned my manners. I am grateful for lessons learned. I am thankful I can mind my own business these days.

And I’m still sorry I scared away that butterfly.

Patience. It is difficult to practice it. We want what we want when we want it. Waiting squeezes our immature hearts. The fist of uncertainty complains that it wants answers, resolutions, compliance, and peace immediately.

But the practice of waiting is good for us. Waiting patiently for the changes that take time, waiting for the seed to grow, for the time to be right, for the pendulum to swing. You can’t force time. You can try, but it usually results in cracked bones, broken hearts, and skewed psyches.

I can patiently wait if I believe God has my best interests at heart. I can trust and have faith, saying, God’s got this. Trust Her timing. If the thing I am waiting for doesn’t come to fruition according to my dreams, I must accept God’s wisdom with grace, believing that my expectations were unhealthy. I can trust that whatever came to fruition was for my highest good, even disappointment. That’s difficult to swallow, difficult to accept, but when I do, I am more at peace with myself. I experience serenity.

The dictionary defines patience as: “the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.”

Without getting angry or upset. Wow, to have that grace and presence of mind. What serenity. What a gift I give to myself and those around me.

One day at a time, let me practice patience. For whatever I may be waiting to happen.

“Sometimes, emptiness is not vacancy, but rather a long gestation. Gestation by ego’s measure is often too long. But, by soul’s measure, the length of the waiting and making within, before what is being created shows on the outside, is ever just right.”

Clariss Pinkola Estés, “Untie the Strong Woman,” p. 33