Quiet and Calm

Even in the lazy days of summer there seems to be moments where I definitely feel that there’s no rest for the weary. From staycations to vacations, kids to conferences, work to play, this July has been more jammed-packed than any December I’ve ever known. I know I’m not alone.

It’s right about now, about ½ way through summer when many moms especially are waiving their white flags. I surrender! When are things going to let up? What happened to ‘me-time’? 

Never fear. There is a way to calm the body and mind even when the heat is on. Grab your camera and use it for the greater good. After taking a few deep cleansing breaths (never underestimate the power of breathing) let your lens guide you to the quiet beauty that lies in wait for you to discover it. Shoot something, anything that sooths your soul and softens your body. Let the peace of the subject matter hold your attention and seep into your being as you enjoy a little change of perspective.

Life is what we choose to make it. Let’s see the kind of images that remind you to you slow down a bit and stop to smell the roses (or daisies or magnolias).

Now, exhale.

hymn of loss and gain

At my church we roast marshmallows, and everyone arrives on tricycles. There are banjos, and there is woodsmoke. Everyone is loved without conditions, and nobody is judged, as long as they are kind, and that is the only rule that’s absolute. Snotty noses are welcome, as are rosy cheeks, both being great and worthy tributes to whatever universal energy sparked all this.

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.

On this night a song merged with photographs and got me to thinking, and I went to my imaginary church, and hey, that's pretty neat. It made me feel peaceful. So tonight, share with us a song informed by a photo, or a photo informed by a song—and tell us the story of why they go together.

Forgive me for issuing a challenge and not quite meeting it. I had written about Ben's upcoming birthday, and how I'm going to do my best to appear with a Star Wars cake in one hand and the memory of Liam in the other, and it didn't feel right. So it's gone poof and all that's left are some very tenuous threads from tricycles to banjos to a hymn, and now it's 2 AM. But you're all inventive sorts, and so I'll leave you to just listen, and look, and knit the rest on your own.

as fate would have it

Let us, then, be up and doing

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

++++++++++++

Life's labors have always come fairly easy to me. I've never minded working really hard. The waiting on the other hand,  has not been so easy. But these days, I am now recognizing the wait is an opportunity to slow my pace, to quiet my mind, to live more deliberately.

In the wait, words jump off the page as if they were written for me. Gifts of everyday life appear at every corner.  It's exactly the Universal nod I have needed. The more still I become, the more is revealed to me. Wonder, truth, authenticity, a heart for any fate.

What is the Universe revealing to you? Words? Pictures? Dreams? Share your work and your wait.

on listening

If today could speak to you, what would it be saying?

on letting go

Recently, I have been reminded of the importance of letting go; of baggage, of clutter, of resistance, of desperation, of fear. Why does it seem so hard to release the things that clearly do not bring us joy? My head tells me it should be easy to relinquish all of what no longer serve me well. My doubt, insecurities, hestitation...I wish my head would give a gentle nudge to my heart. It needs to be reminded too.

Whether we’re on the threshold of something big, like some sort of soul breakthrough, or something a little less monumental like cleaning out a closet, there is the clear and obvious need to let go. So why, if this would help us get on with things already, do we continue to hold on so tight?

The other day my husband brought home a large bag of grapefruit. As my daughter unloaded the bag and arranged all the colorful orbs into the fruit bowl, she marveled at the one that was still adorned with one last tiny leaf. She set it right on top, on display.

Don’t pick that leaf girls, it’s so sweet, I have to get some photos of it.

Admiring this tenacious little wrinkled leaf—a delightful burst of green against the warm yellow and oranges of the sphere—I shoot one photo after the next; studying the leaf, the light, the fruit and the relationship between them all. And all of the sudden it occurs to me, maybe it’s not the leaf that is holding on, maybe it’s the grapefruit that won’t let go. The leaf is drying out, getting brittle, no longer offering the fruit anything it needs to survive and grow. And yet, the fruit refuses to let go, desperate to hold on.

I will be watching that grapefruit perched up on our counter each day...encouraging it to drop it’s last leaf as I get ready to do the same.

The last of the letting go might be the most difficult but I assure myself, there’s no need to fear. What we choose to release is something that is no longer is a part of us; no longer necessary to our growth; our wholeness. As I admire the fruit bowl, I daydream about what perfectly round, robust and sumptuous grapefruit will remain when it finally lets go.