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Remembering my Father's Voice
(posted August 21, 2010)
If he spoke to me again, I would stop
Stop what I was doing and listen
Listen to the sound of his deep voice.
His deep voice I remember so clearly
Remember so clearly, inside my head
Inside my head,
whispering his nickname for me, Tish.
If he spoke to me again
I would stop what I was doing.
Yes, stop what I was doing and listen.
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Did Someone say Pool Party?
(posted August 9, 2010)
"Chaos is Divine order, versus human order. Change is Divine order, versus human order. The moment you come to trust chaos and change, you are seeing God clearly."~Caroline Myss
OUR BUDDY EGO tries to fill us with the fear that we are separate and alone. That we need to scrap and fight for our place in the world. When we buy into this belief our lives are filled with one drama after another. If this sounds like a perfect recipe for a soap opera that’s because it is. There’s only one problem; we play the starring roles, often unconsciously.
As we begin to evolve spiritually, we tire of our ‘all me, all the time’ habitual patterns of thinking. An inner sense of unease starts to gnaw at us and we can't seem to shake it. We are drawn to search for...what? We can feel it but can't quite name it.
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Enter chaos and change. The Divine employs these tools to challenge us to explore new universes. To boldly go where no man has gone before. If we become complacent or resistant—BAM—we're clobbered over the head with more chaos and turmoil. “Can you hear me now?” the Divine shouts over and over until we wave the white flag of surrender.
Making the choice to face our fears (ego) and surrender to the ever-changing nature of the Divine requires an enormous leap of faith. Trusting in the powers of creation and in our abilities to make such a shift is not a task for the faint-hearted. Not by a long shot.
But chaos and change are like posters of Uncle Sam pointing his finger and saying, “I want you.” They are our personal invitations to connect with the inner wisdom of our Souls and the sacred wisdom of the universe around us. To swim in the waters of, and with, the Divine. To join the Cosmic pool party. Seen from this perspective, I shout, “Count me in!”
P.S. I’ll bring the snorkel. You bring the flippers. Last one in is a rotten egg.
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Traffic Update
(posted August 7, 2010)
THIS JUST IN: Traffic continues to move smoothly on The Road Less Travelled despite reports of minor bumps in the road and, of course, normal spectator delays as motorists slow down to enjoy the journey.
Motorists choosing the Must-Do-Should-Do vicious circle freeway should be prepared for lengthy delays. Heavy traffic has caused numerous multi-car pileups. Also, a high number of breakdowns have been reported on the Sanity Suspension bridge. Proceed with caution. Note: There are no rest areas along this route; be prepared for a nose-to-the-grindstone journey.
For ongoing updates, tune into your internal GPS and follow the guidance of your heart. Warning: Text while driving if you want to meet your spiritual guides face-to-face.
Happy motoring.
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"Butterfly Kisses" 8x10 watercolor
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The Joy of Pickles
(posted August 3, 2010)
I ADORE PICKLES, all shapes and flavors. And I adore makers of pickles. If there is a Pickle Maker Hall of Fame (and if there isn’t, there certainly should be), I want to nominate my ex-mother-in-law, Maureen.
Each summer she conjured up enormous batches of her 14-Day pickles in oatmeal-colored crocks. Recalling the flavor of those treats makes me salivate like one of Pavlov’s dogs.
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As their name implies, the making of these pickles spanned fourteen
days. Each day a different step was required, from adding spices to
skimming away the white foam that rose to the top of the crock. On the fourteenth day the pickles were placed in canning jars, immersed in a steam bath, and then cooled to form an air-tight seal. On day 15 the jars were divvied up amongst family members. At my house, this was a high holiday.
I was in awe of the attention Maureen so willingly invested in the making of her pickles. Their flavor was unlike any I had tasted. When I asked Maureen about the ingredients she used, her blue eyes sparkled. "The only one that matters," she replied, "is love."
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Memory of Trees
(posted August 1, 2010)
Ancient wisdom
abiding in giant oak trees,
strong trunks firmly rooted
in the ground. Supple branches
gracefully bending,
moving with the breath of the wind,
leaves boldly embracing the cycle
of life, emerge as fragile buds,
mature, turn vibrant
jewel tones,
released
b a c k
to. the
s o i l.
acorns
falling
falling
falling
planting new growth, new cycles, new dreams
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