Morning Musings
Mind meandering in many and varied directions this morning, as i watch the lightening sky, aware that my body has still not adjusted to this change in time, flatly refusing to awaken when the clock reads 5:30, and insisting on sleeping until 6:30, the real 5:30...sun-time. Just can't believe this upheaval of circadian rhythms is worth it, but that's only my two-cents' worth...i know others who greatly enjoy and appreciate the "extra hour" of sunlight at the end of the day.
Which leads me to another reflection on difference and differences...
creative differences...
difference does not have to mean d i v i s i o n
creativity emerges from differences...
coloring outside the lines...
refusing to connect the dots in order...
thinking ouside the proverbial box...
dancing to the beat of a different drummer...
new ideas
different solutions
re-birth.
is this perhaps why we often find it
so threatening?
i wonder...
And the mind meanders yet again, as i wonder how many others found some irony in the fact that it was near the 8th anniversary of the war in Iraq (March 18, 2003) that we became involved in yet another conflict- this time in Libya. Oh, i know...no ground troops...no real "war"...but what, then, do we call bombing? And just whose interests and welfare are we protecting, anyway?
Another dog-leg in the road my mind is taking this morning...as i realize that all of my morning readings are talking about the birds...even as i listen to the wren outside my window singing with great gusto in preparation for the rising of the sun.
"Regard the birds," said the carpenter from Nazareth.
"We, like birds, are meant to fly and sing- that's all- and all our plans and schemes are twigs of nest that, once outgrown, we leave." writes Mark Nepo.
"God sends ten thousand truths, which come about us like birds seeking inlet; but we are shut up to them, and so they bring us nothing, but sit and sing awhile upon the roof, and then fly away" said Henry Ward Beecher.
And last evening at our discussion group at church we talked about the ways in which birds seem to live in the NOW, to fulfill their destiny as birds without the angst and navel-gazing and soul-searching of we humans...simply doing what they were created to do, being what they were created to be...and doing it beautifully, i might add. Would that we could learn from them to be far less anxious about our own lives, about our own plans, about our own successes and failures.
May i take yet another turn on this road we're traveling together this morning?
Some words of wisdom from Joan Chittister, which she attributes to her mother: " Of two possibiities, always choose the third." Don't you just love it? Speaks strongly to my stubborn, indepedent streak...and it seems to bring my musing full circle, back to difference and creativity and living life as fully as possible, fully aware that the path i walk will be my own, even as i welcome companions now and again, fully aware that we will each experience it a bit differently and celebrating the fact that those differences are what give light and meaning and color to the warp and woof of this life tapestry.
May your day be beautifully and creatively colorful. May you honor and celebrate your own beauty, as well as the beauty of others you meet. May you live each moment fully, aware it will never return again. And may you know with deep certainty, that you are loved...even when it doesn't feel like it.
love, linda
P.S. Just for Nancy, i'm sharing this writing from Life Lines.
Which leads me to another reflection on difference and differences...
creative differences...
difference does not have to mean d i v i s i o n
creativity emerges from differences...
coloring outside the lines...
refusing to connect the dots in order...
thinking ouside the proverbial box...
dancing to the beat of a different drummer...
new ideas
different solutions
re-birth.
is this perhaps why we often find it
so threatening?
i wonder...
And the mind meanders yet again, as i wonder how many others found some irony in the fact that it was near the 8th anniversary of the war in Iraq (March 18, 2003) that we became involved in yet another conflict- this time in Libya. Oh, i know...no ground troops...no real "war"...but what, then, do we call bombing? And just whose interests and welfare are we protecting, anyway?
Another dog-leg in the road my mind is taking this morning...as i realize that all of my morning readings are talking about the birds...even as i listen to the wren outside my window singing with great gusto in preparation for the rising of the sun.
"Regard the birds," said the carpenter from Nazareth.
"We, like birds, are meant to fly and sing- that's all- and all our plans and schemes are twigs of nest that, once outgrown, we leave." writes Mark Nepo.
"God sends ten thousand truths, which come about us like birds seeking inlet; but we are shut up to them, and so they bring us nothing, but sit and sing awhile upon the roof, and then fly away" said Henry Ward Beecher.
And last evening at our discussion group at church we talked about the ways in which birds seem to live in the NOW, to fulfill their destiny as birds without the angst and navel-gazing and soul-searching of we humans...simply doing what they were created to do, being what they were created to be...and doing it beautifully, i might add. Would that we could learn from them to be far less anxious about our own lives, about our own plans, about our own successes and failures.
May i take yet another turn on this road we're traveling together this morning?
Some words of wisdom from Joan Chittister, which she attributes to her mother: " Of two possibiities, always choose the third." Don't you just love it? Speaks strongly to my stubborn, indepedent streak...and it seems to bring my musing full circle, back to difference and creativity and living life as fully as possible, fully aware that the path i walk will be my own, even as i welcome companions now and again, fully aware that we will each experience it a bit differently and celebrating the fact that those differences are what give light and meaning and color to the warp and woof of this life tapestry.
May your day be beautifully and creatively colorful. May you honor and celebrate your own beauty, as well as the beauty of others you meet. May you live each moment fully, aware it will never return again. And may you know with deep certainty, that you are loved...even when it doesn't feel like it.
love, linda
P.S. Just for Nancy, i'm sharing this writing from Life Lines.
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant.
-Emily Dickinson
sick to death…
“I am sick to death of it…”
an expression we use…
SICK TO DEATH…
though we don’t mean it
literally, do we? not really…
But what about when life has no
meaning, but death is too frightening?
Then those hurting ones become
the walking wounded…
the living dead…
like the old horror movie,
“Night of the Living Dead”…
Have you ever felt like that?
Well, I have…unable to see the light…
life one long, dark night…
feeling more dead than alive.
But NO ONE KNEW!
How could I be walking around
bleeding…totally dis-membered…
and NO ONE KNOW?
Why did no one else know I was
coming apart?
Was I totally invisible?
Or did I do such a good job of
covering up my wounds?
and WHY did I?
Because people were depending on me
to help them…to heal them…
and after all, no one wants their ‘savior’ to
be wounded…to be hurting…and if they are-
well tough! Suck it up!
I want you to tend to my wounds, they say…
take care of me…
Perhaps that’s why so many people
avoid church on Good Friday…their
‘savior’ isn’t supposed to bleed & die…
isn’t supposed to cry out in pain…
isn’t supposed to feel forsaken.
So let’s run past the ugly cross
with its pain & suffering…let’s
run to glory!
to sunlight!
to triumph!
But the truth is, the hard truth,
the dark, painful truth,
the walking-through-the-fire truth…
you have to die
before you can be
resurrected…
re-born…
and I am sick to death.
Thank you, Linda. Hugs.
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