I sat today with a pile of mail.
I give to charities, it is my way of doing some small thing to make the world better.
It is part of my walk with the divine, and my outward expression of gratitude.
My heart was heavy today, as I looked thru some 15 odd requests from charities
for money.
It sits so hard in my center to throw them away,
I feel such grief at the faces of those in hunger, and ravaged by wars.
Sometimes, if I am lucky and they are mostly paper, The little one and I recycle them into seed papers to send to friends.
Have you ever done this? It’s fun, and it’s a good way to use up the junk ( or not junk) that comes via the post.
This is an easy explanation here, I just add the seeds before I screen.
So peanut and I were talking about one of the requests,
one that I hold very dear to my heart.
One that I know a great many wonderful Fellow bloggers contribute to:
Women for women.
Here at wordpress they have a wonderful blog, that you can read about what these courageous people are doing.
So the little one was trying to understand what the flyer was about, and asking me why it made me so sad.
Do you not just love the heart of innocence? So trying to explain to her about the women in Bosnia, and the atrocities they have suffered, and continue to go thru, was a hard thing to express to a 10 year old. She gets upset when it’s weeks before she gets ice cream, how do you relate all the suffering to one whom you spend your every waking hour trying to shield from the harshness of the world?
Yet in their infinite wisdom, children get it, on some level, they understand the wanting and the needing.
So those of you in the world with wisdom, what do you say when a child asks you
” but why do we have wars?”
From my heart ” I don’t honestly know, or understand.”
With all the sage wisdom of a child she says ” people should make tea, not war. Then they can sit and talk about the problems and find ways to fix them , like you and your friends do!”
( yeah, tears here, in profusion, and DO NOT BE thinking I have ever been successful at fixing anything in the world other than my car and the plumbing!!!)
I have not been able to throw lately, my illness has been prohibitive of it, so my etsy charity shop has been a bit empty, but I ran with the little ones idea, and drew first a tea cup, and then had the fabulous neighbor digitize it to make it an embroidery design, and I have put it on an apron and a tea-shirt! ( pun intended! LOL)
I know that most folks are struggling like we are, and that some days I wonder where the world is headed. I know there are more people in need than I can help, I may be a dreamer, but I know I am not the only one.
So the next time you sit with a cup of tea, or a mug of coffee, perhaps for just one moment you might think ” make tea/coffee not war” and if perhaps enough of us hold this sentiment close in our hearts, we can manifest a change, invoke the power of possibilities.
Tea
A feather on the breath of God.
It was a very long day.
The night had been restless, filled with to much coughing, and to sore of a body.
I had worked all day, The smile pasted firmly on my aching countenance.
When I climbed behind the wheel to begin the long drive, I wondered why I was pushing myself so.
The little peanut sat beside me, she told me about her day.
She told me funny stories, she asked me strange and serious questions, she sang along with the CD’s, until after about and hour and a half
she drifted off, staring silent thru the window.
When we pulled into the long farm road driveway, she popped up
” Are we here?” she asked.
When she spotted her friend, she grabbed her Hare, and asked me to stop the car.
I did, and watched with tired joy as she raced to her pal, and they hugged.
At 10, they have a connection that I can see. Like life long friends, they pick up right where they left off, sharing laughter and secrets.
I parked the car and wandered into the house.
I had made this journey to celebrate a wonderful friends Graduation from the Masters program.
When I first met her 10 years ago, she had just started college, and for the past ten years I had been teasing her that when she graduated we would no longer be able to be friends. She and I would laugh, because she knew and understood my distaste for those in the “therapist” profession, the one that she had chosen.
I think she is 60, the little gal my daughter adores is her granddaughter.
I wandered around, some faces were familiar, most not. She sat in center stage, looking relaxed, and maybe a bit self conscious, but she wears both very well.
Those in attendance were asked to bring a story about her, as a gift to her, and I had tucked mine into the book.
At one point everyone was gathered together and asked to speak or read their note about what she had brought into their lives.
I listened,
caught on a thread.
I learned things about her, I had never known. I saw the way the tapestry of her life was interwoven with so many people. I felt the deep well of Love that she held within her self.
I saw how she often sat with death and grief. Just being present for it, and allowing her presence to be a container for those who were grieving to fill with their sorrow.
I saw her laughter, her spontaneity, and that intense creative energy that I had always loved and known, manifest in so many ways in so many peoples lives.
In a way, It was not only a celebration of her achievements, but a coming together to honor that place she has in each of our lives.
I had a moment , of deep inner smile, when I realized why I was there.
Something are not about you, (duh) I was there for her, and for the profound joy I have just knowing her.
When I spoke, I told them all, that I had always seen her as a feather on the breath of god, something from an angels wing, being blown here and there,
and landing just where she was suppose to be.
There,
manifesting love, being fully present for those who needed her.
I love her, she is a wonderful friend, who I feel blessed to know.
I enjoyed several engaging and thoughtful conversations with other people there. I packed up my peanut and drove home.
Driving home through the dark country roads, I realized that we are all feathers on the breath of God, some of us , however, are far more present, loving and aware of the divine in our lives than others.
Missing a candle
The little pottery studio was full.
All 4 of the wheels were in use, and a couple ladies stood at the counter
playing with slabs of clay.
The aroma of fresh brewed coffee wafted thru the air.
There was this larger than life potter walking around laughing and talking to people.
She had this air about her, even though she limped when she walked, her very essence seemed to fill the room.
She walked up to my wheel, and I looked up and smiled.
” Now here’s a picture if ever there was one” she said with a laugh.
I looked at her questioningly.
” The four of you sitting in a row.” she gestured to the women beside me.
” Do you see what I see?” she asked me with a twinkle in her eye.
of course I laughed and said ” no, I am seeing you.”
she said ” you are surrounded by your students, you the Jew, have a Muslim, Christian, and Hindu sitting beside you
all learning from you. It is a Photo!”
We all laughed. She had such a dramatic sweep of arm, but we also smiled, and talked. Our religions did not seperate us, they brought us closer.
I can not tell you how many times at those wheels we would talk, reflect on our faiths, our lives, our children.
We were and are, sisters. The name of our Gods might be different, but our faith in something greater than ourselves, was not.
The women who sat to my left was from Pakistan. She is one of the most amazing women I have ever known.
Over many cups of tea, I have heard the stories of her life. I have laughed with her and cried.
She is raising the most wonderful children.
She does so much to make this world a better place. She sees the heart of people, and always seems to know what to do to lighten a burden,
to coax a smile, to change the course of a day.
I have been missing her these past 2 years, and I decided that I would take my sick but by the boot straps , and put some more things at my charity site.
The money I raise I will donate in her name. So that she is recognized for the light she brings into my world.
She knows what the difference is, and she makes an effort every day to be that difference.
Lessons
In the world outside the computer,
I spend a great deal of time at home.
In my sanctuary.
Practicing my hermit ways,
venturing out on occasions.
When I have trouble with a shop keeper, a quarrelsome customer, or a obnoxious soul at the grocery,
I deal with it, and move on.
They are forgotten almost instantly, as I try to dwell more in the lightness of being.
In the inner world of the computer, things work very differently.
When some one stalks me, trolls me, harasses me, leaves nasty comments and rants about my gender, my sexual orientation, my religious faith, or any manner of their choosing, I can hit delete.
But what do I do when it continues?
When it is here, there, every where?
I don’t understand the mind that obsesses, I can not fathom the heart that loves with restrictions, that places arbitrary value on faith and kindness.
These things are beyond me.
I have thought about them for months, and even when I switched blogs, some of them followed me.
WHY?
To spew hateful words? to say things of little or no value? out of what? spite? illness? loneliness? madness?
I can not say.
But I have found that there is little , if anything I can do about them.
Honestly it is hard to ignore it, when they post a comment under a name you haven’t seen before,
and you glance at it, only to find choice ugly words.
It shocks, and it hurts.
But I suspect that is there intent.
Those words, however, will not change my ideologies, My faith, My love of women and men of any race, color, religion no matter what they look like on the outside, I will Love who I love because of the LIGHT that pours forth from the inside.
So, that being said. I apologize for the comment moderation, I simply do not wish to subject you, ( whomever you, the reader might be) to their malice.
Thank you…
for your understanding.
and for sharing the walk in the labyrinth of life.
