In appreciation
of
and gratitude to
those who have served to keep
freedom alive
for the next generation
Thankful Thursday
2
Category Archives: spirituality
Finding Happy
The theme for this week’s Daily Post photo challenge is “happy place,” and the question is “where do you go to get your groove back?”
I don’t so much have a “happy place,” as I do a “contentment place.” When life gets a bit too chaotic, here are three of my “retreats”:
Walks with my buddy.
Getting lost in creativity.
Nature
I actually have many happy places. In fact, I’m in one right now. I call it “home.”
Weekly Photo Challenge: Happy Place
B&W: On the Go
Always on the go, never home. Let me off this rollercoaster ride.
In response to Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Public Transportation
Haiku Twelve ~ Flawed
some say love is blind true love perceives many flaws and loves nonetheless
Pink Feathers
“Go in search of pink feathers,” commands the channeled spirit, “and you shall find them.” Indeed I did find them. They were on sale at a store right around the corner. Manifested just for me. Must be a common directive for this mystic.
“Don’t just ask the Universe for a thousand dollars,” advises one motivational speaker. “Be specific.” So I asked for one thousand two hundred thirty-two dollars and fifteen cents. I’m still waiting for the fifteen cents. Universe, do you hear me?
I don’t know when manifesting became akin to ordering from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. Don’t get me wrong. I believe wholeheartedly in manifesting.
My concept of manifestation, however, is the good old-fashioned kind. The kind where what one sends out vibrationally into the ether comes back in the form of self-fulfilling prophecy.
Henry Ford was on board decades ago, long before the “secrets of the Universe” crowd showed up (or did they manifest?). His oft-quoted words sum it up nicely:
Whether you believe you can do a thing or not, you will be right.
Perhaps a bit less mystical, but no less powerful. You are what you think. You attract what you think about. You are limited by your limiting beliefs. And yes, there is a vibrational field that holds your vision and works on your behalf to help make manifest your intentioned outcomes.
There, I said it. So I am a little woo-woo “out there.” But I’m comfortable with that. And I don’t need a pink feather to prove to myself or anyone else that manifesting “works.” And if – at the end of the day – I come up fifteen cents short, so be it.
It’s a beautiful morning, and I’ve sat at my computer long enough. I think I’ll head out to see what I can manifest today. No matter what order we place with the Universe, the Universe has an uncanny way of surprising us.
I like surprises. Sometimes.
In response to The Daily Post prompt: Community Service
In a Heartbeat
I heard your heartbeat today.
A fetal metronome
nestled in your mother’s womb.
Strong, fast, like a powerful locomotive
chugging away.
And all the more impressive
as it’s likely the size of
a grape seed.
How does your little heart know how to beat?
How was it set in motion?
Who wound the spring or
flipped the switch or
turned the key in the ignition?
Did it take a moment to warm up?
Or was the beat just there
like the first pounding notes of a John Phillip Sousa march,
striking up to dash the silence
in the blink of an eye.
Or – one might say – in a heartbeat.
Perhaps your precious heart
has been beating all along
somewhere in the Universe
waiting its turn to turn up the volume,
to resume its rhythm,
to pick up where it left off
in some prior lifetime.
Whatever miracle set your heart in motion
and brought it forth at this time and in this place,
I am honored to play a part in the symphony
for which it beats a perfect percussion.
It astounds me sometimes
how quickly life proceeds.
From a grape-sized fetus protected in the womb,
to a soft-skinned infant nestled in your parents’ arms,
it will happen in the blink of an eye,
or – one might say – in a heartbeat.
When you are born
I will not fall in love with you
at first sight.
I already fell in love with you
at first sound.
And it all happened
in a heartbeat.
Haiku Seven ~ Bliss
seek that sacred place where souls dare bask in full light there you will find bliss
Photo101 Assignment Four: Bliss
On the Way
On my way today
I paused to watch others
who were on their way.
I wonder when any of us will
actually arrive,
and whether we will even realize it
once we do.
Weekly Photo Challenge: On the Way
While Sitting on the Porch
While sitting on the porch
of the rustic cabin in the quiet pine forest,
I sense the faint beginnings
of the restoration of my soul.
I scan the wooded vistas,
seeing so much farther than
the usual confines of my restricted horizons,
seeing so much deeper into the reaches
of my self-forsaken heart.
Listening to the magpies
and the ospreys and jays, and
those pale green birds with the
beautiful songs that dance across the air,
I feel my inner voice begin to hum,
seeking out that melody that has for far too long
been scorned into silence.
I inhale deeply of the fresh forest air,
and I am finally able to exhale, long and slow,
releasing the toxic fear and tension
that I have been holding inside me
as if it were my last dying breath.
I can abide comfortably for once
among the trusted few that accompany me.
A light joke, a sweet hug…
fists and jaw and heart unclenching
like a leaf unfolding into new growth,
I open to the freedom that is offered
in the security of this sacred environment.
It is the quenching of a thirst long overdue.
Amidst the stillness of nature,
my own nature steps tentatively forward,
and I welcome my reawakening soul
as one would welcome the arrival of an old friend…
while sitting on the porch.
In Work
In Work I am co-creator with the One Creator, co-creator with all in the One Creation. In Work I sow seeds for the Harvest. A touch, a smile, a benevolent word… all are seed for Creation. Yet, what is the fruit of my work? When I dance on the shore and add my voice to the songs of the waves, can I know today that my song will touch a soul months, years, centuries from now? Can I know the steps of my dance will be remembered and retraced, long after their mark has been washed clear of the sandy beach? If this is so, shall I not rewrite the song? Make the tune more melodious, or the words more noble, perhaps? Add a swift spin or an elegant dip to the dance in vainglorious tribute to me… But then creation Work will have ceased and ego work commenced. And if my singing is lost to the uproar of the sea, if the imprint of my dance disappears with the sweep of the next tide, do I withhold the song, refrain from dancing? For Whom am I Working? If I cease the Work of sowing, I cease being a co-creator. And then what am I? In strained faith, I continue to sow. The harvest of my work I leave to the Harvester, Who knows when fruition is complete.
What Rhymes with Stanza? 