Reflections......

While in Montana for the writing retreat I loved witnessing the dawn of each new day. It was a sacred time, a peaceful time, one of renewal and hope. At home I have little time to notice the birth of a day.  I am always too busy preparing for it.  There are breakfasts to be made, lunches to be packed, clothes to be ironed and buses to catch.  With all of these obligations and tasks at hand there is little, well, really no time to watch the earth awaken and revive from her slumber.

  My Montana mornings were different.  I would pour my cup of coffee and head to the lakeside dock with the intention of greeting the new day.  My cold hands would be warmed as I wrapped them around the ceramic mug full of steaming hot aromatic liquid.  As I sat upon the cool damp dock I watched as the mist traveling upward from the mug mixed with the rising dew from the lake.  Hot versus cold, dark versus light, night versus day,   Opposing forces melding into one, they too were unified. And as the sun ascends higher the day begins.

  On these silent and peaceful mornings  I gazed upon the trees in the distance and I noticed that they were replicated on the surface of the smooth glass like lake.  The only thing separating the mirror images was the cloudy mist that was rising. Ah, a life parallel.  When we reflect on our lives; where we have been what we have experienced and where we have come from there is always a cloudy part, the unclear section. These are the times in our lives where we experience uncertainty, disarray and confusion. In retrospect we question our life’s mist.  What if we made a different choice or moved in a different direction?  How would our lives be different from the here and now?  We can only imagine what could have been. All we know is what is. This is our reality.

  Maybe it is my age that bubbled all of these feelings to the surface.  When you are younger you just live…you are, and you breathe in each moment. Now with each year that is punched in your birthday dance card, you count, you look back. Thoughts like, “How did I get here so fast?” And “Wasn’t it just yesterday?” become common place.  The face staring back at you in the morning mirror has more wisdom and wrinkles than you care to remember.  In your mind you are still twenty five full of ambition, drive and enthusiasm.   Well, I still do have that drive and enthusiasm; it just moves at a different pace.  Ambition has taken on a whole new look. Her story has changed. 

  This week I was reminded of my past steps.  My college roommate who was a life line sent by the Universe for me, lost her Grandmother. Nana was ninety seven when she departed this earth She was what you would call, a really, really good egg! Not only did she make a wicked chicken salad but her chocolate chip cookies were to die for.  It never mattered how many pieces the postal service delivered them in.  They always tasted wonderful! Their sweetness brightened our taste buds and souls each and every time.  You know why?  It was because they were crafted with love, pure and intentional love. Nana’s smile was wide as her hugs. Her eyes always lively, her laugh was engaging and real, just like her.  Nana was truly an angel that walked on this earth among us.

  And so all of this got me thinking, reflecting upon where I have come from and where I am going. The simple difference between life and death is a breath; a simple single breath. It is something that we all take for granted. Breath is always expected to be there for us, but in the next moment, without warning it may cease. Lack of breathing may signify life versus death but how deeply we breath in each moment is the difference between experiencing life fully or not at all.  Truly breathing in and living fully within each moment is the difference between being hollow versus whole. Our fuel is our breath. It is our currency.  Remembering to inhale deeply, fully and live each moment for what it purely is and has to offer is amazing. It is within this space we discover our place and purpose.  Breathe in each and every experience.  Let it gently whisper to your soul, travel the path and share the lesson.  There are times that we are both students and teachers. Some days we are learning and other days we are teaching. Each step we take is choreographed.  Within the reflections are stories, experiences and lessons. Some are joyous others are not.  Embrace each of your reflections for what is was and brought to your life,  or at the very least enjoy the view!  

 

 

The Gifts Within Discomfort.

I gave myself a gift, a wonderful gift. It did not come from Macy’s, Tiffany’s or Target. It was not wrapped in shiny paper nor tied with a bow.  Rather it was born from my desire to simply be more. This year I turned fifty. I told my husband I did not want a birthday party nor did I need a gift.  What I wanted was to attend a writing retreat.  As I travel into the next stage of my life I want to learn more about the craft that has captured my interest and given me purpose. 

  When I saw that Laura Munson, the New York Times bestselling author of “This Is Not The Story You Think It Is…A Season of Unlikely Happiness” was conducting a September writing retreat in Montana I knew that this was where I was going. I loved her story.  She shared it from the most vulnerable and rawest place within herself. She is poetic and courageous in both her writing and her life.  I have read her book three times and have gifted a dozen or so copies to people who could benefit from the message.  In hindsight, it was purely through divine intervention that I was acceptance into this retreat.

   As I was making my plans I decided to travel to Whitefish Montana a few days prior to the retreat.  The likelihood of me ending up in Montana again is remote, so I carved out a few more days, booked the flight and reserved a room.

  The first few days I was free to explore.  I just drove. If something caught my eye or captured my heart I stopped.  I sat along a river bank and listened to the water’s chatter as it traveled to places unknown.   I hiked under a sunshine shadowed path in Glacier National Park and with each step I took I inhaled in the rich scent of the cedar trees. I felt the cushiony softness of the earth buoy me from under my feet.  I sat on a piece of driftwood on the shore of Two Medicine Lake. Yearning for connection I placed my hands in the cool water and lay them upon the turquois, mustard and amber colored rocks that blanket the lake bottom. In that moment I knew that I was connected to something larger.  And in each of these experiences I was present, totally present.  Peacefulness filled me.

 The retreat began on Wednesday.  Check in time was four o’clock.  I had a few more hours to explore. Stillwater State Park allowed me to soak in a little more of Montana’s mystique. Also on my agenda was to have a hearty lunch.  Vegan food is the fare for the next four days and I don’t know what to expect.  Remember to breathe and simply relax. Flawlessly I follow my instructions.

 Upon my arrival at the Walking Lightly Ranch I was immediately greeted by a strong and able bodied man who generously carried my overweight suitcase to my room.  What you first notice about David is not his strength but his smile.  It says welcome before he even utters a word.   And welcome I felt.  I settled in and ventured toward the main house to meet my fellow retreaters.

  So far five of us had arrived. We had traveled from South Dakota, Colorado, Massachusetts and two of us from New York.  We began to share our life stories and what has gotten us to this point. The women are open and compassionate.  I say to myself, “This is going to be fine”.

  As additional retreaters arrive the cycle of introductions continues. The names and faces begin to meld.  With each new participant we introduce, and re-introduce ourselves.  As we circle around I carve another name and story into my mind. There is one more New Yorker in the group along with women from Oregon, Washington, San Francisco and Hawaii. It is a light night, a fun night. No nervousness just connection. Exhausted from our travels we retire and ready for the activity that has drawn each of us here, writing.     

 Through the night I toss, I turn and I turn, I toss!  It is not because the bed is nothing more than a futon mattress upon a platform, but because my mind is racing.  It is 5:13 a.m., I am unable to sleep and seeking advice I text my dear intuitive friend about my feelings and misgivings.  She is an early riser. I know that in New York time she should be awake.

 Class is about to start and I have not heard back from my friend. “Damn, she must be busy”. I think.  With nothing left to do I slither into class hoping to go unnoticed. Insecure, raw, underprepared, in over my head and scared; at this moment these are the words that describe me best.  I have never belonged to a writers group, nor have I have attended a writing workshop. I just share my thoughts in a blog. What the HELL was I thinking when I decided to fly to Montana for a retreat with a New York Times Best Selling Author?

 By trade I am a bean counter, an accountant a controller.  I exist in a world of equality and balance.   Without fail the debits always equal the credits.  We analyze all aspects of a situation before proceeding. People speak of creative accounting, but in reality there is little flexibility.  Within numbers everything must be in synch and balanced.  At this retreat balance takes on a different meaning.

  Class begins:

  9:34 a.m.  My mind is racing. “What was I thinking? Really?  A writing retreat, glamorous in theory, and painfully frightening in reality!  Yes this was the fiftieth birthday gift I gave to myself.  I didn’t want a party I wanted an experience.  Really, what the HELL was I thinking? Right now I could use one of those stiff drinks that would have been served at my birthday party.” 

 9:40 a.m. We each have to write down the first few words or phase that comes to our mind.  Flying away, that is mine. Maybe because this is what I long for right now, flight.  Each phrase is folded and placed into a bowl. I just wish that at this moment I could climb on the back of one of those squawking geese that are swimming on the lake and fly back to New York. 

 9:43 a.m.  A timed writing exercise! I have ten minutes to write a story about a subject pulled from that bowl of prompts.   Yellow Dog.  Really? Great I am not an animal person.  Especially dogs.  The dogs in my life have appointed roles. I borrow them for a period of time. I have a Thursday night dog at a spiritual based class that I attend and a Thanksgiving dog that belongs to my sister.  Shit!  I spend the first three minutes of the exercise calming my nerves and thinking about how little I have to say on this subject. 

   9:46 a.m.  I know that I have to write something.  Each person MUST read aloud what they wrote. Breathe, I remind myself, breathe. With each breath I calm myself just a little bit more.  My fingers touch the key board and I begin.  I have an idea. I write a few words then a few more.  Before you know it I have two paragraphs.  I am just about done with the third when time is called. Whew!  It is done ….but it is shitty!

  I am not a writer that moves to the hands of time.  My writing process is just that, a process.  I have an idea.  I mull it around. I examine the different angles. Then I go out for a walk to clear my head and connect with nature.  This is my practice and my meditation.  My thoughts are nurtured.  I let them simmer.  I allow the flavors to develop. Simmer, season and stir.  That is what I do.  I am not a quick thought, fast paced put it in the microwave for five minutes and wait to see how it tastes type of writer. Well, not at least, until this moment.

 As the sharing begins I am stunned, amazed and yes, just in plain jaw dropping awe.  These women are quick witted and talented.  They feel deeply.   Their voices are strong.  They are clear and sure of where they are on the page.  WOW, simply, WOW, and I think to myself, “I am so screwed!”

 Retreat, yes I am on one and that is exactly what I want to do. Retreat.  Retreat back into a place of comfort and safety. 

  The truth is, as unsure of myself that I am at this moment; deep within I know that there is no other place I would rather be. I am sitting here in Montana consumed with anxiety and yet fully supported by my fellow retreaters and teacher. If I was in New York I would be at work sitting behind my desk and thinking that there has got to be more to life than this.  Comfort has taken on a new meaning.

 But the question continues to echo in my mind, “What I was thinking by taking this trip?”

  The truth is that I was not thinking.  I was listening. I was listening to my heart. It told me I needed to go to Montana. I needed time for me. I needed to look deeply within and stir up those things in my life that were neither making sense nor working. And in the beauty and silence that surrounded me it was safe to face those questions and issues. There were many lessons waiting for me under the big Montana sky.

  In addition to the writing other activities that connect the mind, body and soul are offered. You could hike, take a yoga class or work with a wonderfully intuitive horse woman. I had hiked my first few days in Montana so I choose the last two activities. Both are totally out of my comfort zone.

  In her book Laura writes of a dear friend who owns a ranch.  It is where she boards her horse. While in Montana I was blessed to meet the woman that Laura wrote about. One of my favorite quotes from the book was spoken by Bobbi, the horse woman.  She said.  “People who deal in the heart don’t see fences.”   She may consider herself a horse woman or whisperer. She is not only both of these, but a communication expert and a kindred spirit.  I wish that Colleges and Universities issued degrees based upon a curriculum focused on Bobbi’s knowledge. Our world would be a better place if they did.

  When you work with Bobbi there are no boundaries just open spaces in which to connect. With each one of her instructions and nuggets of wisdom the fences that I grew accustomed to, the ones that came from the deepest place within me simply dissolved.

 It is funny how things happen and all for a reason. Upon my return from my work on the ranch I received a text from my intuitive friend that I had desperately reached out to earlier in the day.  She had not received my message until recently.  Graciously she offered me some advice.  After that text there were two identical messages from her.  The duplication told me that the thought was important. It read:

“And one more thing.  Do you trust Laura?  If you do, then she knows what she’s doing.  And she picked You.” 

  Yes I do trust Laura.  That simple phrase summed it up.  It all comes down to trust and belief.  I believe in myself and trust the journey.

  With each passing moment I lived into the experience. I disregarded my feeling of inadequacy and listened intently to each instruction given and each piece read.  I learned not only about the craft but about resilience. As humans we possess the innate ability to adapt to circumstances, reason, gather strength and move forward.  

  On the last night of our retreat after the official agenda was complete we moved into a place of giddiness, laughter, and song.   A let your hair down and the good times roll kind of time. It was the silly kind of childhood fun that memories are made of. I will carry the laughter of that night within my heart for years to come.

  Our last few hours together were spent around a roaring outdoor fire.  Many shared their writings.  Each was wonderfully crafted and born from the deepest places within. One woman wrote a poem called “Metamorphosis”.  It was about our shared experience.  I listened intently and was in awe of the talent and bravery within that circle. I found it ironic that we were sitting around a fire.  The rising and flickering flames before us served as a reminder that a fire had been ignited and a passion rekindled within each one of us.

  With exhaustion setting in and travel plans looming it was time to call it a night.  Each of retreated to our own rooms to relax, write and pack. The moon was full and its light was shining through my window.  I could simply not stay inside.  I grabbed a jacket a glass of wine and walked to the lake. I stood on the dock and deeply breathed in the cool clear air and exhaled. It was silent.  Everything was totally still.  There was not a single sound coming from the lake not even the sound of the water lapping against the dock could be heard. The crickets were absent. The moon weaved between the clouds. You could still see their puffy whiteness brought to life by the glow of the moon light.  A peaceful, thoughtful, stillness embraced me. I was safe. I was whole.  It is in this space that questions are answered and ideas are born.

 As the moon’s rays reflected upon the lake, I reflected upon my experience. I thanked the talented and brave woman who traveled this path along with me. In a little over three days we shared lots of laughter, many tears and the desires that reside deep within our hearts. I am grateful for their sisterhood.  I thanked the horse whisper and the yoga instructor.  Each challenged me to dig a little bit deeper within myself. I thanked the staff who so lovingly cared for us during our stay. I thanked Laura who held a safe space for each of us to create, discover and grow. And I thanked the gentleman who guided me here. Without his whispers I would not have made the trip. 

 During this retreat I put all of me out there.  Whether it was in the classroom, in the horse paddock or on the yoga mat, I decided to live each moment fully, and not to retreat to a place of security and comfort. Real growth does not come from a place of comfort.  There may be safety in avoidance but empowerment in challenge.  I am grateful for my place of discomfort. Within it I have discovered many gifts.

The 11:11 Anniversary

Numerologists and Spiritual Leaders speak of the significance of numbers and number sequences.  One of the most discussed sequences is 11:11. There are many interpretations of its meaning. Many people say that 11:11 speaks of awareness, life balance or global consciousness.  Others say that 11:11 is the doorway between two worlds. There are those who believe that when you encounter this number sequence your guardian angel or spirit guide is trying to connect with you.  Any of these interpretations standing on their own is special, but a combination of them is nothing short of amazing!

This sequence can present itself in an array of ways.  It may appear as the change you receive at a store, your car odometer may display these numbers and it catches your eye, you may notice it on a license plate or it may even show up as part of a telephone number. Today 11:11 appears in a less obvious form. Today’s tie to the 11:11 sequence is unique but also very significant. Eleven years ago on the eleventh day of September the world that we were living in was forever changed.

On this day, the significance of 11:11 is not lost.  It is the eleventh anniversary of September 11^th.  The feelings and emotions experienced years ago are once again unpacked from our memory banks and relived.  The horror and heartache resurface.  For me there is still rawness tied to this day. I live fifty five miles north of Manhattan.  My town and many of the surrounding towns experienced some sort of loss.  Whether it was a neighbor, friend or family member we were all touched. Eleven years ago two of my sisters worked within a few blocks of the World Trade Center.  I was on the telephone checking in with my youngest sister when the second Tower collapsed.  Horror was within an earshot and death and danger was closer.

  I have many vivid memories of that day.  One very significant memory of mine occurred before the first plane hit. As I drove to work that morning I was mesmerized by the deeply blue morning sky.  There was not a single cloud to be seen. It was crystal clear and I was in awe of the intense richness above me.  Blue is a color that is often associated with clarity.    But clarity seems to be an odd word to use in relation to September 11^th. That day was one of chaos and confusion.  Maybe the sky that morning was foreshadowing the clarity that we were to achieve when we finally digested all that had transpired.  

 

 On September 11, 2001 and those days that followed thereafter, our focus was on the grief, the pain, the anger and the loss.  As communities we rallied and supported those who suffered and sacrificed the most. Candlelight vigils were held, donations collected and solace sought within our places of worship.  In those moments following the attacks the shift in our collective consciousness had begun.

   Before that day our priorities were out of line. We were consumed with accumulating things, large things.  Along with our meals our houses were oversized. The bigger the better, the term Mc Mansion was in born. Lots and lots of space left little room for human interaction.  We needed the latest and greatest electronic devices, and if we had one for each room in the house, so much the better.  Cars were expensive, vacations exotic and social status was important. We idolized entertainers and athletes.  They were placed upon a pedestal and revered no matter how badly they may have behaved. Time and connections were not important, wealth and power was paramount.

 And then the first plane hit a New York skyscraper when people were arriving for work. In a single instant our reality was realigned. We no longer needed big homes with lots of space, we sought comfort and closeness.    Financial wealth was no longer equated with happiness. The sense of community that had existed in the 1940’s, and 1950’s had returned. We needed and relied upon one another.  We craved community. The shift had begun.  We realized that people and relationships are paramount, not possessions. 

 The athletes that we idolized understood the meaning of hero.  The true heroes were the ones running into the buildings while others were running out. They were focused on service not self. To pay homage to the real heroes baseball players who had been idolized by the masses ditched their team logo caps and donned those of the New York City Fire Department and the New York City Police Department. This was an amazing display of perspective. What achievement defines a hero? A person who can strike out three batters in a row, or hit a ball over a distant fence, or is it a person who puts their life on the line to save another human being? No contest.  Those caps were proudly worn by the NY Yankees and NY Mets. The real heroes were honored for all that they did and all that they do each day.

  In the days and months following the attacks we buried our neighbors and comforted their survivors.   We organized community fundraising events to fund scholarships in their memory. A sense of community had re-emerged. Memorial parks were designed, planned and constructed. Bricks were engraved and laid in their honor.  We would not forget September 11^th and all of the innocent victims or the selfless people who tried to save them, not on our soil, not on our watch.

  Through the years the intensity of the emotions felt on that day may have waned but their undercurrent remains.  As I walked through my neighborhood yesterday I could not help from noticing the display of American flags.  The red, white and blue were proudly attached to fences and mailboxes. They flew mightily upon flag poles.  Yes, on that day a shift had occurred. Compassion replaced competiveness. Eleven years later we are aware that each and every day is a gift.  It is understood that it is essential to balance the must do’s with the want to do’s. Time carries more value than money.  And if 9/11 taught us anything it is that we are all connected somehow, someway.

  More importantly on this 11:11 anniversary, we garner comfort in knowing that no matter where we are or what we are doing there are angels watching over us. Eleven years later the message that was delivered at that moment when the first airplane hit World Trade Center is still strong. It remains crystal clear. We are all in this together. We are never alone.  Someone always has our back and is guiding us from above……angels, 11:11.

Balloon Messages

Yesterday I made my weekly pilgrimage to Wal-Mart.  Grocery shopping was the task at hand.  As I was traveling along North Main Street I caught a glimpse of Monroe’s annual Cheese Festival.  The event is more of a street fair, but it is intended to honor Monroe’s place in history.  Velveeta cheese was invented by one of our residents, Emil Frey in early 1900’s.

 Party tents, carnival rides and people dotted the horizon. This scene reminded me of a family day a dozen or so years ago.  My daughter was nine and my son was four. It was a wonderful day of discovery, exploration and yes, some cheese.  The kids enjoyed themselves in the bouncy house, had their faces painted and they decorated ceramics pieces.  We purchased pretzels and dunked them in cheese, melted Velveeta of course and walked away in laughter and secured wonderful memories. 

  As I was sitting at the traffic light waiting for it to change I was absorbed in my thoughts of that day many years ago. At that moment my heart ached.  I realized that those simple family outings and the holding of tiny hands and hearts had exited my life several years ago. Today I missed it.

  On the corner was a man with his two children.  They were waiting to cross the road and make their way to their car.    He was holding the hands of each of his two children.  His daughter may have been ten or so years old, his son about six.

  As they stood there I silently laughed to myself as the little boy with wispy brown hair and a huge smile toyed with a purple helium balloon tied to a white ribbon.  The balloon bobbed up and down with each pull on the ribbon, and the boy giggled.  He was happy, and secure within that moment.  And then it all changed. 

  The little brown haired boy lost his grip on the string that was attached to his purple balloon. The ribbon slipped through his fingers and his treasure traveled upward.  His Dad made a valiant attempt to grasp the rapidly passing string, but to no avail.  The balloon was on a path of its own. As it traveled upward it grazed the top of a nearby building, soared above the stately oak tree and bounced about in the blue sky. I realized that as parents this is what we do with our children.  When they are young we tightly hold them within our grip.  We nurture, teach and protect.  Then there comes the time that we must loosen our hold, release and allow them to soar on their own.

   When I was young I always believed that adults knew everything.  I thought, when you are an adult things are clear, things are easy.  You are in total control of your life. You can do what you want, when you want.   Boy was I wrong; this couldn’t have been further from the truth!  Adulthood is when we face the most challenges. 

 No longer secure within the cocoon of our parent’s protection and guidance we must discover where we belong, where we fit in and who we really are.  Our time is not our own.   Responsibilities and obligations mount.  Soon we have our own children to hold onto and protect.  Raising a family is both a warmly rewarding and an equally overwhelming task. It leaves little or no time for our individual interest and pursuits.

Before you know it the time arrives to release our grip on the balloon strings. Yes, it is difficult but also necessary.  The fallacy is that when you are an adult you are all grown up.  This may be true physically, but emotionally and spiritually this is the time when we begin to question and challenge ourselves.  No longer concerned about what others may think we start to become truly comfortable in our own skin.  Ironically the point of release is when real growth and discover occurs. Phrases like “I can’t do that” are replaced with “Why not, I’ll give it a try.”    It is now our time to reclaim ourselves.

 These past few years I have given many things a try. Some have stuck other have not. A few have been major leaps.  Skydiving surely does fit that description!   Each step is part of my personal evolution.  Lessons are presented whether I choose to acknowledge them or not. The process of clearing and making space for new thoughts and experiences is a must. And, for me, living from the heart is essential.

  I finished my weekly Wal-Mart shopping and was patiently waiting my turn to check out and pay for my purchases.  As I was standing on the checkout line I looked up and there in the ceiling rafters was another balloon, and another message.

  Wedged against the roof top was a balloon that had floated away.  CLEARANCE was the word written on it. Yes we all love a bargin, items are put on “clearance”; the original price is reduced significantly to move the item quickly.  The purpose, the store needs to make room for new merchandise.   

  In our lives we too go through this clearance process. It can be hobbies, friends, jobs, and relationships that need clearing.  It can be our habits and thought patterns, or it can simply be space that needs clearing.  When the clearing occurs we make room for the new thoughts, careers, friends, experiences and beginnings.

 Each of the balloons I encountered yesterday contained lessons. There is a time that we must let go and release in doing so we can reach new heights.  Each of us has clearance to evolve, move, grow and change. Yes, there may be obstacles along the way that impede this. Some are real, but many are created in our minds.  We perceive what can or cannot be. The truth is that above us there is an endless sky.  We need to allow ourselves to travel it.  So my friend, where do you see your balloon traveling to, the ceiling, see the sky?

 

Stop, Look and Listen.

 

 

As the alarm clock chimed on Wednesday morning I lay in my bed, opened my eyes and drifted into my senses.  Immediately I was aware of all that was lacking.  There was no sunlight streaming through the windows and the sounds from my feathered friends were absent.  It was 5:45 am and all was quiet, all was still.  As much as I fought it, the thought that crossed my mind was confirmed, when I open the sliding glass door and the chilly air entered the room and produced goose bumps on my skin. Fall is coming; summer is nearing its end.

  How did this happen so quickly?  It seemed as if it was just yesterday morning when I would awake to the bright sun light streaming through my bedroom curtains and I would be serenaded by the sweet tones of the robins that had set up home in the rafters of my deck.  I miss my morning songs and sunlight. Very soon the inpatients and petunias will be replaced by the aster and the mums.  Before you know it the green leaves will turn various shades of red, amber and gold.  My shorts and sandals will be replaced by sweatpants and sneakers. A sweatshirt will be my constant companion.   Each year summer seems like a fleeting journey, and as the years progress my dance with the summertime moves faster and faster. Just another reminder to acknowledge each day for all it provides. The challenges, lessons and peaceful moments, savor them.

  As noon approached I was sitting behind my desk answering calls, solving problems and pushing papers.  I took a moment and gazed up and looked beyond my computer screen, calculator and piles of work.  The wall of windows in my office beckoned me to them.  I peered out.  The sky was a deep clear blue.  The grass and trees richly green. I was reminded of the crispness of the morning.  I thought, “This is a wonderful day for a lunchtime walk.”  I keep a pair of sneakers in the car just for such an occasion.

  My mind told me I should work through my lunch and fulfill my obligations; my heart was singing a different song.  So out I went, I changed my shoes from my high heeled sandals to sneakers and headed up the hill beyond the office.  I have traveled this route so many times.  It is my dear friend during the fall, winter and spring months.  The summer is too hot to walk.  Well, actually I would walk in the summer if I did not have to return to the office.  Sweat, sunburn and matted hair do not make a great impression in the business community!

  I made my way to the top of the hill and continued along the straight away.  I was looking for photo opportunities as I am still breaking in my new phone/camera. I came across a heart within a piece of cement.

  However, I was drawn to the opposite side of the road so I crossed over.  As I walked along the trees, rag weed and brilliant purple flowers my mind began to empty and my heart began to fill.  I was one within the moment.  It was quiet, it was peaceful and it was reverent.  The sun was shining through the trees, the skies were clear and blue and my breaths were in sync with each step I took. What was awaiting me in my office no longer mattered.  Isn’t wonderful when all that is important comes into perspective within an instant?

 

  There were four Monarch butterflies moving about.  I stood silently still and watched.  They floated from bud to bud.  Each would land for a moment, rest, and move on.  I snapped a few pictures to record in my memory bank.

  As I walked a little further and the butterflies followed me.  I continued to watch them weave in and out of each reed and each flower.  They instinctively knew where they wanted to land.  They gathered all that they required from a spot and moved on.  I thought, much like each step a human takes.  We are guided to where we are to be, whether we realize it or not, and gather all that we need to nourish us……and move on.

 My gaze turned to a winged friend that landed in front of me.  Was it a butterfly, or a moth? What it was did not matter. What it did mattered.  Each flew into my day, into this moment with grace and purpose.  Doesn’t each and every move that we make hold a purpose? A pure reminder that the answer is yes, we just have to recognize and acknowledge it.  Each decision we make, each direction we turn to makes a difference.

  As I stood silent and still in that spot I felt as if there was no place else on this earth I was to be. The sun warmed my skin, but more importantly my soul.  And as it did I watched as a bumble bee gathered her pollen which is her life line and I thought…..

 

  …..there is no guarantee of a tomorrow, or for that matter another breath….

  …..there is so much beauty around us we just have to open our eyes to it…….

  ..… be grateful all that you have, it will sustain you…….

  …..each moment is a blessing….embrace it.

  ….there are no accidents.  Everything happens for a reason….hold on.

  …..keep connections alive.  All that you give will be returned to you in the moment you need it.

  …..smile; don’t be afraid to share your soul with the world we are all waiting to embrace it.    

   …….and stop, look and listen to each message that is around you.

   I continued on my walk. As I rounded the corner and moved up the hill I was now within a construction site.  I turned around and looked beyond the Townhouses that were being built with the confines of my quiet, lunchtime walk sanctuary.  And as I committed my last thought to memory above a new roof it appeared.   There it was a reminder from the Universe….a puffy white heart in the sky against a deep blue backdrop…Always remember take each step and to do all things with love……

Granular Moments

It is Sunday evening, the night before I return to work after a much needed week of vacation on Cape Cod.  Yes tonight I am sad, melancholy and angry, but not for the reason you may think.  Tomorrow going back to work is a privilege.  I am grateful for the same routine and tomorrow morning I am going to savor each moment more than I ever have, simply, because I can.

 Last Sunday night I had started working on a blog post.  These were my thoughts……

“Ahhhhh…..finally, vacation!  This is the one week out of the year that I have total control over each and every step I take.,  If I choose spend the day at the beach, I can.  If I want to read a book, I will.  If I decide to take an afternoon nap, I do. I can walk for as long as I would like because for this week I do not have to consult with the clock to see how many minutes are mine. This week everything is according to my time, I am in control. I am not confined between four walls, chained to a desk or sitting in a meeting staring out the window wishing I was outside breathing the fresh air rather than that has been conditioned.

  Yes, this week I am vacationing on Cape Cod with my family and some very close friends.  The Cape is peaceful playground.  Hundreds of thousands of people flock here each week to relax, rejuvenate and reconnect.  Life’s rules change when you step out of your car.  Everything slows down”.

 At the moment I committed these thoughts to paper it was truly the way I felt.  I loved my week on the Cape.  It included soul southing beach time, peaceful sunsets, and wonderfully fun kayaking adventures with my friend.  I lost myself in three wonderful and different memoirs, each story spoke to me in different ways but each conveyed the truth about remaining true to your heart.  There were times when the whole family was together, even if it was for a short while.  Laughs were abundant, good food shared, and heartfelt conversations were etched in our memories.

  During the week I kept connected through Facebook.  I posted pictures and videos of my adventures and read about my friend’s lives.   There was a post by a soon to be married friend talking about her married name.  If only her fiancé believed in hyphenated names hers would be so cool.  But she would by overwhelmingly happy with just the singular version. 

  On Saturday, the last day of my Cape Cod vacation this same friend posted this:

  Bittersweet thought for the day...two years ago today I lost my Mom to cancer... But in 20 days I am going to have a new mother (in law)..& I could not have asked for a better replacement!

 Upon reading this my soul lightened.  Not only did I know my friends struggles with the loss of her Mother, but I knew how happy she was to have found her soul mate.  To have another woman that you could call Mom and associate all of those comforting and nurturing feeling about is priceless.   I am so fortunate that my Mother is alive, but I did have that same type of loving relationship with my Mother-in-Law.  That is the title that society has tagged it as, but she too was my Mother.  My own Mother totally understands this connection for she had the same with my Father’s Mother.

  So upon my arrival back home I proceed out to run some errands. With my friend’s Facebook post clinging to my mind I made a mental not to contact a mutual friend regarding suggestions for a wedding gift.

 So adding insult to injury, not only was my vacation over but it appeared as if last night my magical Blackberry had died. For those of you who know me I have shared so very many special and heartfelt images with you.  I was able to revive her for a short while and went out this morning for a walk.  Shortly into the walk it became apparent that my magical Blackberry’s time was drawing near.  Not only was my time off from work waning, but would my run of beautiful photos come to an end? This afternoon reluctantly I headed out to the Verizon store to replace my companion of two years.  As my daughter said, “You are joining us on the dark side” I now have a new I-Phone.

  I could not sell my Blackberry back to Verizon for twenty eight dollars.  The pictures that it contains are worth so much more than that.  With my new I-Phone in tow I headed to Walmart to do my grocery shopping.  As I pulled into the parking lot my new phone sounded.  I thought that I had inadvertantly pocket dialed someone.  Not knowing what I was doing I began pressing buttons and icons.  It appeared that I had received a text message from a very busy, dear friend, one that I do not hear from often.  When I read the message my heart sank, my stomach knotted and my body was overcome with a fiery heat.  Could I be reading this message correctly?  Our mutual friend who had posted to Facebook about the two year anniversary of her Mother’s death lost her fiancé last night!!!!! How cruel, how unfair, how unfathomable!!  Why is it that some people experience the worst of the worst over and over while others of us don’t?

   All day this news has been weighing heavy upon my heart.  I know that there is nothing that I can do to alleviate my friend’s tremendous loss and her piercing pain.  I was reminded of my selfishness.  Here I was complaining about returning to work tomorrow morning and getting back to the routine………how she must be longing to awake to a routine Monday and know that this was just a horrible dream.  But now the empty side of the bed is her new, cruel reality.

  While I sat on the beach this week I, as I always, do picked up handfuls of sand and let the grains slowly pass through my fingers. As I felt each grain I lamented about all that was, all that was not, and all that has past.  Today, while living in my sadness I realized that each grain of sand is just like a moment in time.  This moment, this grain is all we have there is no promise of another grain or another moment.  So, tomorrow as I awake to return to work I do so with a humbled and heavy heart……………I am here, I can breathe and I can feel the grittiness of the grains of sand.