When a stranger returns your purse

Angel

This morning I drove north to a coffee shop in Houghton–5th and Elm (may it forever be immortalized in song and dance, as you will soon discover why) and ordered a coffee and cranberry biscotti.

Then set my big clunky red purse, covered with tiny mirrors, a gift from an Indian physical therapist earlier this year (see this story if you’ve forgotten) on the floor.  An inner voice warned me, “Now don’t you DARE forget that purse!”

I then unpacked Ms. Ellie, the laptop computer from the backpack, retrieved the mouse and waited for the Internet signal before typing a lengthy almost 900 word blog (which you may or may not eventually read) while delightedly sipping coffee and inadvertently tossing biscotti crumbs to and fro.

I even forgot who I was for maybe a half hour.  That’s how engrossed and delighted I was in the writing.

Blogging to illuminate, to reconcile

Illumination

Lately I have been enjoying writing blogs that seem to reconcile stuck, limited, or judging viewpoints within.

Something arises.  Some judgment, some feeling, some sorrow, something that’s not yet integrated.

Perhaps it has to do with a friendship.  A sense of longing.  Something deep inside which wants to be accepted, yet there’s still a pushing away, a not-allowing. Perhaps it’s an anger, a sorrow, a not-understanding.

I sit and type, letting the deepest self share its thoughts.

Then–instead of turning too quickly in the next moment–or too compulsively looking toward your comments or visits–it seems that the words in the blog are felt on a deeper level.  I feel the truth in the words, to understand, to allow.

It often feels like a big ah-ha of understanding.  It feels like it translates into true realization, into something real which can inform the next action.

Made of dreams and dandelion fuzz

Make a wish and come to earth for a lifetime.

So many lives are made of dreams, of wishes, of wants, of blow-the-dandelion-fuzz across the back yard so the Forest Owls hoot your deepest desires back to you just before midnight.

I once dreamed of traveling to Switzerland, to Italy, how about France? Perhaps even Mexico, Nicaragua, maybe Ecuador.  I dreamed of writing a famous book, you know, the kind of book which leaves readers gasping, wanting more, truly inspired, truly knowing themselves in some deeper way.

Every which way the blogging heart goes next…

Follow your heart, my dear.

OK, it’s time for another blogging blog.  You know, the kind of blog where you blog about blogging.  (We do this when blogging becomes more important in our lives than, say, thinking about doing dishes.)

There is SO much to blog about blogging!  One could blog from now until death-day and never adequately cover the extensive possibilities.

I always advise—quit thinking, and follow what your heart has to say about blogging.

Of course, like all Life advice, this is harder to DO than to type.

Therefore, I listen to all my thoughts and sometimes get confused, just like 99% of the rest of the confused planet.

Do you feel the pain?

…and then the unthinkable happens.

Cancer knocks on your door.  While you slept an invasion of cells stole away your peace and now chemotherapy rules your days and nights, even though you swore, didn’t you swear?, that you would never ever radiate yourself, that you would never fight for life with poison and hope singing in your bloodstream.

You’re running in the Boston Marathon and suddenly an explosion rocks your runner’s high and you’re falling, falling, to the pavement and blood runs instead where your legs once pumped in delightful anticipation of that finish line which never arrived.

Prayer

Be kind

Reaching for nourishment

Be kind, dear one, be kind.

If you can find it in your heart, be kind to one another, for everyone you meet–not just the downtrodden, not just the homeless, not just the friend dying from cancer–everyone you meet–faces some sort of anguish, some sort of fear, some sort of challenge.

Let’s mess up a little today, shall we?

Oh oh. I shouldn’t have done That.

This morning I woke up and the inner voice was already involved in a complicated debate.  Should I have coffee or not?  Go to work before the funeral or not?  Do yoga or skip it?

As if that wasn’t enough, the inner voice started critiquing yesterday’s actions.  Should I have written a funny blog about dentists during this sad time of Barry’s co-worker’s death? Should I be writing so many blogs again?  Shouldn’t I be calm & cool & collected and write blogs only once or twice a week like mature people?  Should I have said such-and-such at the budget meeting?  Should I have…well, you know the spiel.  The inner voice is such a harp at times, isn’t it?

Then I decided to turn on Facebook.  The inner voice questioned that, too.

“Do you really want to start your day with Facebook?”

I told the inner voice to shut up, poured a cup of coffee and opened Facebook.

A non-apologetic manifesto about being weird.

Weird? Not weird?

First, let’s get the definition straight.  If a person is weird, what the heck does that mean?

A Google search revealed these synonyms:  strange – odd – peculiar – quaint – uncanny – bizarre.

Now that we *almost* know the definition of weird, let’s explore this phenomenon further.

May I suggest that those who are not labeled weird by society do the following thing very well:  they fit in.  They eat the same as their peers, dress in the same clothes, act in appropriate ways, speak without being *too* strange or offensive, are friendly, polite and well-behaved, or at least act acceptably bitchy, raunchy and amusing.  They act “normal”.

Aligning with our deepest values

Hints of self

One of the things I pondered during the recent retreat from blogging and computer and caffeine and other distracting activities was this:  how can we more deeply align our daily activities with our deepest beliefs and values?

Where are we putting the gift of our attention?  Is it really aimed at our deepest wishes, or is it aimlessly drifting in other helter-skelter directions?

What do we want to be doing with our one precious life?  What is the core, the honey, the hidden treasure, the Holy Grail?

In what ways am I just coasting through the day, sugar-coating or filling the hours with distractions?  In what way is attention scattered into pursuits that really lead down dead-end streets?

I wish you passion and joy and sweet birdsong.

Mosaic

I wish this for you.

I wish you follow what brings your heart joy.

That you discover what zings and zaps your spirit–and let that delight you.

Whatever it might be.

If you love taking pictures, take a million photos and allow your happiness to bubble up and spill over into your computer, your blog posts, your art shows, your gifts.

If you love writing, write up a storm, my friend!  Let your delight sparkle like fireflies on warm dark August nights.