Tag Archives: wholehearted life

Just One More Minute

bed

I slept in this morning. I typically get up at 4:30 a.m. every morning, weekdays and weekends, but there are some mornings when I just don’t want to get up, and I don’t have to, so I sleep in. All I have to do is say to Eric, “I’m staying in,” and he turns off the light, hustles the dogs out, takes care of their breakfast and Dexter’s medicine for me. When they are done eating, Sam (the baby of the family, but maybe the laziest of us all) comes back and gets in with me. This, the comfort of a dog sleeping next to me, makes it even easier to drift back to sleep, to stay in.

From time to time I wake up, always thinking to myself “just a few more minutes.” It’s so cozy and nice, and I don’t really have anywhere else I have to be right now. This “just a few more minutes” typically becomes at least two extra hours of sleep. On days like this, I’ll tease Eric if he takes a nap, saying I already took mine.

After I got up, I was thinking about this “just a few more minutes.” I was thinking about all the other places this manifests. I remember every kid I’ve ever known begging for a few more minutes of play, just one more half hour of TV, just one more book, just one more cookie. I was thinking of the other ways it comes up for me, just one more bite, just one more page, just one more mile, just one more episode of whatever show is on HGTV as I ride the elliptical at the gym, just one more day. Grief arises as I think of those I’ve lost, how we both wished for more time, another day, another moment, just a few more minutes here together, how those lives were over too soon, how there was so much more living and loving to do, how hard I prayed that they be given more time, how angry and hurt I still am that it was denied.

fieldofgrass

This is where we live our lives, in these few minutes. If we are lucky, we have a succession of them, minute after minute, moment after moment, but our experience is only in this single, small measure of time. One breath, one beat of the heart, one flash of experience, one chance, one kind act, one moment of connection and compassion. We long for there to be another that follows it, but the wisdom that lives deep in our soft animal belly knows that we must savor this one, the one just now, to squeeze everything out of it we can, to really see it, to notice, to open our heart to it, because this is all we can be sure of. In this moment, we can know that we are here, we can be here, brave and open and vulnerable and tenderhearted.

What do you plan to do with your one minute, kind and gentle reader?

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
~From Mary Oliver’s poem, The Summer Day

Wishcasting Wednesday

What do you wish to create?

I wish to create a wholehearted life in which I practice self-love and self-care, balance work with play and rest, maintain a healthy body with ease, experience an abundance of gratitude and joy, embody love and kindness and sanity, am mindful and connected and open-hearted and brave.

I wish to create art that inspires and heals, that reminds people of basic goodness and helps to ease suffering in the world.

I wish to create resources (books, art, workbooks, webtexts, videos, podcasts, ecourses, classes, workshops, retreats, etc.) that act as a map for others who want to find their way deeper, to sink more fully into their heart and life.

I wish to create space where people can come together and safely explore what it means to live an authentic, wholehearted life, to practice such a thing.

I wish to create a project or a collective that helps advance health and well-being (clean water, food, access to medical care and education, and the cultivation of mindfulness, compassion, and wisdom) in places where this is the least likely, most difficult.

Wishcasting Wednesday

What do you wish to start?

Getting published. I believe in this in a way I never was able to before, and now I need to get organized, approach it with focus and determination. I need to write the first book so that I can start the next one, which is right there waiting, not very patiently. I have done so much writing around these two books that the sense and shape of them, the anticipation, the magic waiting to be born feels at times like it’s choking me, like I can’t breathe. I also wish to write and submit all the smaller things swirling around, shiny and sharp. I have to get them out and let them go.

Taking real care of myself. Getting enough play and rest, spending my creative energy, eating healthy amounts of good foods, doing enough exercise, practicing true self-care and fierce self-love, sinking deep into my practices–being healthy in all the ways I’m currently not well, not strong. Embodying and manifesting my innate wisdom and compassion and power.

Living a wholehearted life, wild and precious. When we were walking down on the bayfront in Newport today, a little girl stopped me and said “Do you want your fortune told? It only costs a dollar.” Her friends had dared her to do it, so I gave her a dollar. She smiled and said “You are going to have a wonderful life,” and ran to catch up with her friends. You know what? I think she’s totally right.