Mystic Biology

I was journaling this morning in front of my picture window, lounging in my hammock chair. It was just after the sun rose, the sky was a light shade of pink and the air was misty. There is always a chorus of birds that sings in the morning, a different symphony every day, but always the music. Looking at my oak tree that sits across the brook and fills my view, I felt amazed at how beautiful everything is in the morning. The tree itself is home to many of the songbird soloists, squirrels, and woodpeckers that are my neighbors. The bark is filled with insect life, thousands of individuals, and the leaves house caterpillars. Each leaf contains hundreds of chloroplasts which take the carbon dioxide we breathe out and turn it into the oxygen we breathe in. Each chloroplast is made up of all sorts of atoms and proteins, a little factory in each tiny spec of green. And I feel that I am alone sometimes! I could really open my eyes this morning, take in my surroundings, and be amazed at what I am a part of. It would be nice if I could take that wonder and amazement into my day, to experience everything as fresh and new and teeming with life and energy. Because I am that as well, I just forget.

"Seeing" things

There are moments when I realize just how out of touch I am with my surroundings. This morning I had one of those moments. I was in the home stretch of a run, and plodded by a house I had passed by every time I have driven down my street and run that route. It is a great house sitting next to a huge field with a barn in the back. The barn sits in the field, and the scene is one from a National Geographic photograph. Today I realized that there was not only one barn and one house on the property, but three additional buildings that looked like smaller barns. I have lived in this location for almost two years now, admiring this house yet never really "seeing it." I didn't just miss the color of the trim, or slant of the chimney, I missed three buildings on the property. Just how much of my world do I miss while I stay busy chattering in my head, making grocery lists or listening to the radio? How many opportunities do I actually miss on a day to day basis? I have been thinking about incorporating a meditation practice into my daily prayer ritual, and today's magically appearing buildings serve as a gentle prodding to actually do it, instead of thinking about it. It would take me five minutes to sit and focus on my breath, and hopefully calm the incessant chatter going on in my head. Summer resolution, exercise serenity muscles.

Shower from Heaven

I put on a bridal shower (along with many others) for my sister yesterday, and it went extremely well. The decorations were great, everyone had a fun time with the games, and the food was fabulous. I am the black sheep of our small family, and was the one to act out as a teenager. I made a lot of mistakes, and that girl I was 15 years ago, in only very small ways resembles the woman I am today. I still went into the planning with a desire to shatter the rebellious teenager image that hangs around my neck and screams, "I was a rebel and I am still the same screw up today." I went into the event hoping for reinforcement of my maturity, and acknowledgement of the changes I have made to my personality. What I realised as I was writing today, was that I am the biggest contributor to the image. I am the one who is frequently trying to overcompensate for past behavior. I am the one that needs to accept who I was then as well as believe in who I am today. It is not up to other people to help me with this with reinforcement. It is up to me.

Postcards on the Edge

I had an extreme moment of crankiness yesterday at the post office. I had received postcards from family and friends, sent from various world locations. Why do we send postcards anyway? Do we just wish to share a moment of our lives with loved ones (likely)? Or do we wish to rub their noses in the fact that we are in an exotic location and they are stuck at home or at work, bored to tears? Now I know that is not the purpose of a postcard. But it is a great way for me to gage my attitude and make a minor or major adjustment. Yesterday's adjustment was major. Jealousy is a great way to uncover what you actually wish to accomplish in your life. A postcard comes from the streets of Lyon and your ears become green and ooze with slime? Put that on your own personal "Things to do before I die" list. Tear up the postcard from Lake George? Don't waste your money. Stay home and sit in your backyard with an inflatable boat. So the postcards I received from everyone traveling the world yesterday saved me a hefty sum at the travel agency. I know where I want to go, thank you.

Holding out for a Hero

Bonnie Taylor sings, "I need a hero/ I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night/ He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast/ And he's gotta be fresh from the fight." What I wonder is why we as women need heroes? I love this song, it seems to speak to something in me that needs that knight in shining armor atop a black steed that will sweep me off my feet, and take out my garbage. Is it just an ingrained idea, 1 damsel in distress, and a knight or Hercules, the male hero that comes to save her? Where are the female heroes? Why aren't they sweeping the knight off his feet? Because the female heroes are women we do not want to become. They are the spinsters and crones. They are made into the bad guy, or gal, like Cinderella's sisters. They are outspoken about what they want (Prince) and will do anything to get it (make Cinderella stay home from the ball.) Meanwhile Cinderella just stands there and the man sweeps her off her feet. So women stand around waiting for the knight to come and lift our laundry out of the car, when we should be demanding that the knight help us. That would make us more like the wicked step sisters, but it would also help us to become more self sufficient. I want to be a hero, I just do not know how. All I know is that if I am pretty enough and stand back and wait quietly, my knight will come, and then he will mow my lawn.

Why should I be scared? Everything is perfect.

I ran away this weekened. Or maybe I ran to. I escaped to the coast, drove my two Siberian huskies out to this fabulous bed and breakfast in Hyannis Port, Ma. It was the perfect setting to forget all of the stuff going on around me and hang out with God, one on one. I did not access my email, rarely answered my cell phone, and drove up and down the coast, stopping to hike a section of the rail trail, then find a cute town to shop in. This was my very first big girl vacation, I was on my own, without a man or family. Emotions surfaced, loneliness surfaced, self pity surfaced, and then after everything was out in the open, I was able to sit in the sand at the National Seashore and ask God for help. It was foggy, and I could only see a little way out into the Atlantic. I sat with my dogs, wind whipping my hair, and the fog lifted, the blue sky emerged and the head of a harbor seal popped out of the water, bobbed there for a minute, then vanished. Everything I ever need has always been there for me, all the time. I just can't see it through my fear. The next step is always in front of me, I just forget to take it. Everything was perfect this weekend, despite the rain and wind and doggie accidents. Grace, my white husky, chased waves, tried to eat seaweed and was happy to see every single biker on the path. I was the one forgetting the magnificence of the outside world. Now I have sand in my car to remind me that the fog does always clear, and I will never stumble if I just keep moving straight ahead and watching where my feet land.

Ritual Hairy Encounter

I reside with four felines, three of which sleep with me, curled up between legs, balanced on hip and flopped over forehead. We have a morning ritual, I set the clock for 5:14, and hit the snooze button three times before finally waking at 5:38. Somehow my companions know what time I really get up, as they never wake me before the correct moment. At 5:38 however, they are competing for attention and I have to make sure to pet all of them. Three cats weaving in and out of arm's reach keeps me busy for a few moments before I hit my knees and ask God for help throughout my day. The cats are my primer, they instantly connect me to spirit, little deities in feline bodies. They tell me that I am the most wonderful, loved, person on the planet, and help me to connect and get in "touch" with my day. My first waking moments are chock full of unconditional love, first from my cats, then from my prayers, which just might be one and the same.