As We Walk Upon The Water

 There have been Twenty Two months, Ninety Three weeks and Four long days since you went away. On a Wednesday. At first, I tried to banish all remaining Wednesdays from my Kingdom. But this was not to be. The traditions of keeping time and other such illusory measurements of folly are stubborn here on Earth. I decided to count the Wednesdays instead. To keep track of the distance of all the Yesterdays, when I could have called you on the phone, to say what I did not. There were Seventeen Wednesdays. Thirty Six Wednesdays.  Forty Two Wednesdays. At the end of the years weekly count, I knew not what to do. You were no longer held in the count of the year that once knew you. I asked what to do. Needing a word from you.  To help me through my days. Most things are easier now between us, in a way. All of the stories, the endless false notions, have vanished. The strict limitations and  boundaries that  blocked us have since lost their power.  After your passing, your body became the Great L

 The Nuns of Saint Clare still lay claim to the thoughts in my head.  They taught me in spite of my wild horses, run away mind. They harnessed my energy and led me to pastures I roam to this day. I studied them carefully, due to my hidden agenda. I felt as though I was not "from around here", and I desperately needed to find my way Home. I prayed that somehow they might show me The Way. They had gotten a few things wrong, however. But being the good Catholic girl that I was in those days, I felt guilty for having such thoughts.  Yet those thoughts persisted. I sought to arrive at the Heaven of Now. Not the one that they spoke of, which happened much later, and only by following rules as prescribed and decreed. I still loved them immensely. And forgave them this error. As they forgave me. Immediately following elementary school, I basically checked myself out of any formal training meant to enlighten me. Life had presented me with events I could not comprehend. I hadn't ye

 I have admittedly been over sensitive this week. I have practiced the art of deep breathing and the grace of letting go. Yet at times I've held onto concerns a bit too long. The resounding background sound in my Heart is consistent. I am perpetually reminded that I am truly Blessed, Divinely guided and held in the arms of the Infinite and the Always.  "Fear Not", I am told. "All is Well", I'm consoled. "There is no need or want  your very hands do not already hold". And yet. And still. I stumble. Though momentarily. And humbled. By the Truth as it appears before me. My angst this week occurred due to issues of Trust. I needed to release my arrogant need to control the behavior of others. And trust their hearts to find the pathways of love and reconciliation. And so, the Spirit led me to " the sign". I was late for an appointment. Parking was an unfortunate undertaking, without clear directives. The numbers of the rooms jumped unexpectedl

 For the first time in almost fifteen  years, my Lavender plants have taken root, my Lilacs are blooming and the  Lily of the Valley are spreading their wonders across my terrain. To call them, "my" Lilacs and Lilies is quite incorrect. They have come from Higher Realms entirely, and I am truly Blessed to make their acquaintance. While tending to their delicate natures, there have been "others" who've tried to occupy their dwelling spaces. These "others" are often referred to as weeds.  I've noticed that weeds have a presence and strength and tenacity, uncommon and rarely observed in their siblings on Earth. I speak to them as I remove them from the soil. I tell them it is not yet time for them to shine, but that the day will surely come. I can only imagine the afterlife of weeds. Where their merits and accomplishments are noted, honored and recognized. The gifts of weeds are numerous.  They consistently bring us to our knees. They move us outdoors

 I once heard a story about His Holiness, the fourteenth Dalai Lama. There were renovations being done, and new structures being built on the Monastery grounds. In the sincere attempt to 'do no harm', and to honor his vows of non violence to all beings, His Holiness issued an assignment to the Monks of the grounds. He asked the Monks to carefully remove all the Earth Worms who lived in the soil that would be excavated, and relocate as many as possible to safer grounds. There have been ants in my house these past few Summers. They are small, but Mighty. They are a wonder of Unity, Size and Strength. They can cover a counter top, for a mere breadcrumb, in the blink of an eye. I often invoke my inner Dalai Lama. I scoop them up in soft paper towels, so as not to do harm, and transport them outside. They fight me on this. They fear I am a force of doom. A source of threat that must be fled. How frequently do I feel this way myself, as God steps in, sending  Holy Monks, and attempti

 This is a Confession. And an Apology. And a Sincere Moment of Gratitude for the Blessings I am about to Receive.  These Blessings are not contained in a time line that has Yet to Be. They have already been poured out. Brought forth. And filled up inside my over flowing Cup. There is an event on my horizon that caused me to momentarily stumble. I fell, temporarily, onto the wooden horse of worry and doubt and anxious concern. Much of this event involves my sight. And the way I see things.  But it is never our eyes that truly deceive us. It is more that at times, we lose focus and stand in need of restored Vision and Perception. A beloved Sister caught Sight of me just now on my wooden horse. She reminded me. Gently. Of the Chalice in my hands. Filled to the Overflowing Rim. Of the Angels I've known, Who've whispered in my ear.  Of the inexhaustible essence of Love that surrounds me. Faith is not found when the storm has passed, Or the bridge has been crossed,  or the debt has b

 I am often in awe of my children. I am humbled, bowed down and amazed by the things that they teach me. They've become my advisors, High Priests and sage counselors. They are fearless and true to their own inner compass and core. My eldest son has always revealed to me his inner quest for Truth and Wisdom. Unaware of how often he Radiates both. He is gifted at oration and debate. He knows that only the posing of proper questions, will bring us the answers we truly seek. This same son has just revealed to me his alchemy. He is practiced in the art of elemental specialties. Fire, Water, Metal, Gas. Steam and currents of high voltage and velocity. My son just added years to my life. As they both, often do.  It is difficult for me to ask for help. I fear being a bother and not being able to do for myself.  My son, the alchemist, however, appeared at my door this afternoon to transform my world. As he performed his alchemy, we talked of many things, as we often do. He taught me scienti

 Dear God, Thank You so much, for everything. I have no complaints whatsoever. Thank you for letting my car brake down in my driveway. Thank you for the fact that I have my very own driveway. And a car to park there. Thank you for reminding me to renew my Triple AAA.  And for the resources with which to do so. Thank you for the Angels Always Available. Please use me as a resource to them all. As my way of thanking You for the depth and breath of Wings you send my way. Thank You for my Children. Who have spent their whole lives with me. And still love me. Thank you for my grandchildren, who are still in the process of learning who I am. And love me anyways.  Thank You for the inner and outer conflicts of this life as they arise. They are teaching me to stretch and grow and change. They are teaching me to reach for You, and to find You. Everywhere. Thank You for partly cloudy and mostly sunny and moon kissed skies. All these daily bread blessings in my quite full basket. Thank you for tu

 Emma's all grown up now. They're now known as X. They've called out the Congress. No longer just B.S. They've pointed out the blood stains. More children on the ground. The Congress doing nothing but repeating the same sounds. The hardening of schools. The softening of gun rules. The lobbying for power over bodies of the children of tomorrow.  Insidious times of hate. The broadening bigotry. Claiming supremacy. Voiced in brutality. The generations rise.  Looking us in the eyes.  They see what we have done. Cherishing fear and guns. Instead of Lives. May we be fortified. In Marching for Our Lives. Until the real solutions Become the Constitutions With which we Sanctify.

 When someone requests of me that I  keep them in my Prayers, I consider it to be a Sacrament of the highest order and alchemy. More often than not, this  request is a pure and simple invitation to bear witness. When we hold each other in honest prayer we offer each other up to the highest possible Light. We need not utter a sincere prayer of the heart but one time. The Supreme Creator of all that is and ever shall be is not in need of our reminders or instructions.  Our Prayers are born of our trust in the fact that all is truly well and is provided for.  And that this,  too, shall pass. If I am able to be the one who steps in to offer the required intercession, then Spirit will answer that prayer, through me. It is more likely, however, that I am asked to simply rest in the space of trust on behalf of the one I pray for, and Spirit will direct and I will again bear witness. I have been known to be a tiny bit stubborn. And fiercely independent.  Recently though, I became slightly over

 I was just about to make a huge mistake.  I was about to quote you the "truth", as I thought I saw it. But Truth is a diamond. It largely depends on the angle you view it from. Some shifting may be required to fully appreciate the Light of its wholeness, rather than the mere fragments. I was about to quote from the old version of the Disney classic, "Lady and the Tramp." I can still hear the song in my head at times. Sung by Peggy Lee in the original version. "We are Siamese, if you please. We are Siamese, if you don't please....." I was about to tell you that lately, as I watch the news, it occurs to me that certain human beings have morphed into a kind of Siamese/Pit Bull/Chihuahua version of themselves. And that we forget that we are not born upon this Earth to hiss and to growl and to be paid homage to. But, it appears, I would have been hissing and growling, and barking up the wrong tree, if I'd written that original thought in my head. If I&

 In the midst of the ongoing Covid-19 pandemic, I stopped taking my increasingly isolated mother to her local Church for Sunday Service. The Priest of her Parish is kind and good, and the Church he leads seemed to find its True Soul in the unfolding uncertainty of the times. I called out to the kind hearted Priest for a home visit with my mom, to uplift her and guide her. I bought him Angel Wing pastries and fresh herbal tea. He came without question or hesitation. For my mother, this was a blessing of deep Grace. The Priest came to see her, personally, and spent time with her, talking like two old friends on the front porch. She was filled and complete, and for this I was grateful. I noticed, however, my inner despair at not feeling properly fed by this visit. I tried to let it go. This was not about me. My mother was at peace, which had been what I  thought I had longed for. Yet my own sense of let down just grew more persistent.  I realized that I had needed something from that visi

 For My Mother The changes came on quickly. Then moved slow. Like entering a shaken, swirling, spinning, snowing Globe. The misty fog moved in. Transforming Everything. Changing the View. I wonder what she sees  And what looks back at her Outside the Window. Her look remains the same. Etched in and picture framed. Her daily deep refrain Now endless and unchanged At every Window Pane. " Oh,Honey, quick. Come see. It looks like rain to me. It looks like rain today." I've learned that rain  Is deep and wet And nourishing. She's learned that rain is looming threat Of trouble's deep uncertainty. "Oh, Honey, look. Come see. It looks like rain to me. Please travel carefully." I've said those words before. To children traveling forth. When I thought storms came from some distant shore Outside of me. But Nature's storms are Merciful. They take away  The deep control I do not have And, so - Let go. Thank God those storms move in To set me Free. "Oh, H

 The Holy Mother sat with me. The day you had to leave. She gathered up my lifeless Heart And taught me how to breathe. She held me as the pain moved in And showed me how to grieve. She Said: "This too, is Labor, Child. Let the contractions Flow.  Love's legacy, inside your eyes, will teach you all you need to know." She Said: "Love is the doorway. And Death shall knock upon it.  But Love will lead you, like a bridge, to all that Lives beyond it." “Death is a messenger of Time. But Love is not to be confined. Love's Legacy is not contained and will remain to Guide you. And you will Rise again to find Love's Legacy Inside You.”

 Sometimes Love feels like a tear. Whole Oceans tumbling from my eye. Sometimes Love feels like a tear. A split in the seam of the fabric of Sky. And what to Remember - And not to Forget Is that Love is a story unfinished as yet. And a story of Love is as good as it gets. Love will hold in its Arms all that ever could be. There will be no selective exclusivity. All that Is - It lifts Up Fills itself like a cup Pouring forth Loves remains That are never used up. In Loves Arms there is Space For the Everythingness. For the Hollowed out Hearts And deep caverns of Bliss. And the thing about Love  Is it can't be contained. The sheer Force of its Presence Dissolves all restraints. When the journey is long And The Way is unclear Take Love's Hand in your own As Your Own And Appear. Love's Awareness As You Will Arrive. Safely Here. Though Love feels like an Ocean That falls from my eye Flowing down to bare ground And rebirthing as Sky If I open my arms to its endless supply All I Lo

 My writings are Prayers. Made of random, loose leaf threads and bits of string that flow through my mind. And Heart. It is best when Mind and Heart are Wed and in alignment. But this often requires my careful and tender attention. The thoughts from my mind can be reactionary and worrisome. But my heart knows better. And offers its council. I can travel great distances in my thoughts. At the speed of Light. Through time and space where they both collapse. Into only threads and strings of Light. I often start my day at the feet of the Master's. I journey forth into Jerusalem. Travel slowly through Tibet. Sit in Prayer pose in Ashram's of India.   Then I find myself hiding from bombs in Ukraine, where I offer   my Heart as a refuge from pain. I then walk through the halls of my Congress, in shame.  Trying hard not to trigger the bullets within the deep barrel of judgements that I know by name.  I sit by my Children's side. Each day. In thoughts that are Wed in my Heart and Mi

 Some of my favorite Christian's are Buddhists. To me, they embody the truest teachings of the Man from Galilee. In my understanding, Jesus was a strong yet gentle messenger of The Way. He practiced nonviolence. He was not attached to the material or temporary or superficial things of this world. He not only sought out the Dharma, He Became the Dharma. He taught in and prayed with the Sangha. He poured forth cool, flowing Holy Water to ease our Karma without forcing us to drink. He meditated continually. Seeking the guidance, even unto Himself, of the Supreme Source of All Enlightenment. There was another mass shooting in America today.  This time, in a hospital. The dwelling space we gather in to Heal and offer Care and Compassion. Our hospitals are make shift churches. Heads are often bowed in prayer. Seeking assistance, perhaps for the very first time, from the Supreme Source of all Enlightenment. The last mass shooting occurred in a schoolroom. I am quite sure that the Master&#