Monthly Archives: May 2013

Gratitude Friday

1. Rain. We’ve had a good amount of rain this spring, rain but not hail or big thunderstorms, and my garden and yard, the park and the river are all really happy about it.

2. Crowdfunding. In the past year or so, I have helped musicians get records made, writers publish books, documentaries get made, people without it get clean water, kids that might go without receive Christmas presents, and even cancer patients pay for their treatment. I love crowdfunding so much. I love us and our big hearts, our kindness and good intentions, our willingness to help. Here are two projects just recently completed, with rewards on their way to me, an album and a book.

3. Collaboration. I have a project I’m going to officially announce tomorrow in a post that will introduce it in more detail, Self-Compassion Saturday. There are an amazing group of wise and compassionate teachers, writers, healers, and artists who are going to help me consider some important questions I have about self-compassion. It is the most beautiful thing, and I can’t wait to share it with you. I am humbled by the ways these women are gracing me with their wisdom and kindness, their willingness to share, beginning with the simple act of saying yes.

4. Peonies. I planted three this year, but I am already thinking I’m going to need more. N e e d.

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us. ~Iris Murdoch

springpeonies

5. Nature. How green everything is right now, how full and fast the river and blue the sky. How at an English Department retreat on Wednesday, we were visited first by a deer, then a pair of wild turkeys, and finally a baby deer — and when I say baby, I mean JUST born, still wobbling around on its shaky legs attempting to learn to walk. And there was a moment of sadness, that tender sadness present in everything, when we spooked his mom and she ran, but he was too unsteady to catch up to her, and I imagined his desperation, “Mom, wait!” *sob*

one of the turkeys in question

one of the turkeys in question

Bonus Joy: Another week with Dexter. An extra special bonus was that he slept in bed with us two full nights in a row. He’d slept with us every night for seven years, but when we got Sam, Dexter “got his own apartment” and started sleeping in various other locations throughout the house. Sam has recently made some similar shift into adulthood, and begins each night by sleeping for a few hours in his crate, which is in another room. I’m thinking something about this makes Dexter feel more comfortable getting in with us. I don’t care why, I’ll take what I can get.

Big D, Little D, and Dexter’s tomato plant

Full Flower Moon

Jamie asks: “What are you dreaming under this Full Flower Moon? This is the time when the buds have transformed into blooms, reminding us it is time to do the same. What are your full flower dreams? Who are you when you’re in full bloom?”

As seems to be the case with many things in my life, I’m a late bloomer — two days late making this dreamboard. And yet, it’s because I have been manifesting something pretty big (I can’t wait to tell you about it — details on Saturday!), using my energy to bloom and create, so it seems right that this one took a little extra time.

Full Flower Moon asks “How would you like to bloom? Who are you when you are in full bloom?”

fullflowermoon13

Practice: yoga, meditation, writing.
Light filled space.
Breath, words, and music.
Love.

All the memoirs that had ever been,
the entire alphabet,
breath and magic.

Cultivate softness.
Dream.
Breathe.
Radiate yourself.

You are a Bodhisattva,
a wisdom being,
fueled by mountain and ocean,
flower and tree,
bird, feather and flight,
green ground and vast blue sky.

Shantideva said:
May I be a protector to those without protection,
A leader for those who journey,
And a boat, a bridge, a passage
For those desiring the further shore.

Shantideva said:
May the pain of every living creature
Be completely cleared away.
May I be the doctor and the medicine
And may I be the nurse
For all sick beings in the world

I said: Life is tender and terrible,
beautiful and brutal —
may I keep my heart open.
May I be happy.
May I be healthy.
May I be peaceful.
May I live with ease.
May I ease suffering,
in myself and in the world.