Standing Tall, Stooping to Help

December 13, 2013 / still a dreamer / 6 Comments

Abraham Lincoln once said, “A man never stands so tall as when he stoops to help a child.” In my world, that would read “… when he stoops to help a child or an animal.”

Those of you who know me personally know my deep involvement with animals. It began so, so long ago. As soon as I could stand, I was toddling up to animals. I am drawn helplessly to them by a sheer and invisible magnetic force. Our lives are intertwined in ways I cannot even describe. Needless to say, I am deeply touched when any of us rises to the occasion and helps our animal friends.

I pulled the photos posted from an e-mail forwarded by a friend. As is often the case in these e-mails, the photos have been collected from all over the internet and their source is never known. So here I thank all of you, whoever you are, for taking these wonderful and inspiring photographs. They make me proud to be a human on this often-struggling, sometimes cruel, sometimes compassionate planet we call Earth.

“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” ― Mahatma Gandhi

“True human goodness, in all its purity and freedom, can come to the fore only when its recipient has no power. Mankind’s true moral test, its fundamental test (which is deeply buried from view), consists of its attitude towards those who are at its mercy: animals.”
― Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

“We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate for having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein do we err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with the extension of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings: they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.” ― Henry Beston, The Outermost House: A Year of Life On The Great Beach of Cape Cod

Merry Christmas.

Thoughts for Thanksgiving

November 27, 2013November 27, 2013 / still a dreamer / 4 Comments

The last few days I have been intuitively drawn back to read my friend – though I have never met him – author Mark Nepo. I find such comfort in the kindness and wisdom of his writing, but moreover, the ability of his words to help center me.

Work, and its sometimes seemingly endless demands, can pull me farther and farther away from my self until I feel lost. Especially with Thanksgiving upon us, I wish for my mind, heart and spirit to be in a far different place. This morning, tuning into Nepo’s The Book of Awakening helped me rein myself back into a place where I want to be … calmer, more content. He writes:

“The goal of all experience is to remove whatever might keep us from being whole. The things we learn through love and pain reduce our walls and bring our inner and outer life together, and all the while the friction of being alive erodes whatever impediments remain.
“But the simplest and deepest way to make who we are at one with the world is through the kinship of gratitude.”

He asks that we sit quietly and meditate on what keeps us from knowing ourselves, inhaling gratitude and exhaling what stands in our way. I know that when we are feeling most whole, when we have separated what we “do” from who we are, that we experience greater peace. And when we are at peace, we love more easily, breathe more easily, give more easily. So beautifully connected.

Knowing ourselves and releasing all that we are not taps us right into the magnificence of spirit, our Oneness. This Thanksgiving I share peace and thankfulness with you.

Journaling

November 6, 2013 / still a dreamer / 4 Comments

While I try to blog as often as I can, I truly try to do this every single day … journal. I’d been journaling in the past, but what cinched my greater commitment to it was when I read The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. She gives her creative readers two assignments, the first of which is to journal daily. I start early and journal first thing before life about me is afoot. Well, right after making coffee and feeding very insistent animals. I curl up and prepare for my day … journal, some spiritual work, enlightening reading … whatever gets me on track.

Journaling and blogging have two entirely different functions. When I blog, I try to bring something enjoyable, enlightening and/or perhaps educational to my visitors. I’d like to make your stopping by worth your while, always knowing not everything I write will appeal to everyone. I enjoy writing and love photography, and hope that what I share appeals in some way.

When I journal? I am doing what Julia Cameron refers to as a “morning dump,” that is, getting rid of all the crap that is running around in my head – whatever needs to be pulled out and gotten rid of. She suggest writing – always by hand, of course – 3 full pages. I have no strict limits, but write until I’m done, when I’ve committed to paper what I don’t want in my head. It’s surprising what a difference it can make to leave our trials and tribulations on the page. It’s quiet when I journal … most are not yet up … this time is mine. And so my day begins.

What do I journal in? That has varied as well, but what I’ve found I prefer most is something with a spiral binding so I can fold it back and write easily while balancing a coffee mug and maybe an earlier-mentioned animal who has their own additions to make to the journaling process. These journals can be had inexpensively at the local supermarket, (see above), or at times I’ve treated myself to a more exotic journal in gold and what looks like silk that I’d gotten from Two Buttons awhile back.

I wholeheartedly recommend journaling for anyone. You don’t have to like writing nor be good at it; you only have to want to clear out your head for the day ahead. It can make a difference. Do I go back and read what I’ve written? Rarely. My journal also isn’t a memoir. Merely a way to make my day a happier and/or more sane one, and who wouldn’t like that?

What Makes You Happy?

September 22, 2013 / still a dreamer / 8 Comments

I came across this wonderful quote today and it just stopped me in my tracks. Huh, I thought, isn’t that the truth?

“It isn’t what you have or who you are or where you are or what you are doing that makes you happy or unhappy. It is what you think about it.”

― Dale Carnegie, How to Win Friends and Influence People

And that set me pondering .. exactly what is it that makes me happy? When I stopped to think about it, there were so many things … and then I realized that what really makes me happy can sometimes change from minute to minute. This moment it can be a fall-scented candle, the next, the smile of someone I care about, noticing how surprisingly graceful is the flight of a Chinese mantis, the color of the coffee in my cup, the well-crafted labyrinthine twists and turns in the book I”m reading, the small feline squeaking at me for food, etc. Think about it … that’s where the happiness is – in our attitude towards everything in our lives. That’s not to say we should be Pollyanas. But how we look at what is in our lives can make the biggest difference in how happy we are. Mind you, I am not saying that I have mastered the zen art of peace and happiness every moment of the day, but I am getting better and better in knowing how to find it and embrace it, as can you.

I decided to do an online search for a photo of happiness for this post. As you can imagine, that brought up a real cross-section of images. Some of marriage, some of children and others of people leaping for joy, animals, music, beautiful nature scenes, etc. because happiness is often very subjective. Of all the photos I looked at, what made ME feel happiness at that exact moment was the photograph above of this child playing in the rain, such joy in his face.

In a little while, it may be something else, but for right now … that’s happy. And it’s good.

Crossing Our Own Bridges

July 10, 2013 / still a dreamer / 7 Comments

When I first saw this photo, I had to swallow hard. That is not a bridge I’d be able to cross. The photograph is of the Carrick-a-rede-rope bridge in Northern Ireland and connects the mainland to a tiny island. It is now a tourist attraction, but was once used by salmon fishermen for over 350 years. It is 98 feet, above rocks and the sea, built only of wood and ropes. It is easy to imagine how it would sway when one crosses to the little island on the other side.

It reminds me of bridges in my own life … the sometimes difficult paths that I am traveling to places I want to go. Just like real bridges, some of these can be crossed in hours, days, or maybe years. Some are nice and secure and amazingly happy, like when I used to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge, and some are much more challenging, like this one would be. Some feel like they have a sheer drop to the sea and cliffs below.

We all have bridges we need … or want … to cross. I’d had a discussion of this metaphor with a friend a few years ago; a particular challenge I faced, (and still do), seemed the equivalent of crossing this rope bridge. How would I get where I wanted to go? She suggested I imagine the rope bridge bathed in white light, one continuous safety net. I accepted this in theory, but it didn’t banish my fears. And then I had a thought. If I really, truly wanted to get there, I could crawl. Maybe not a bold or terribly brave move, but if that’s all I can do right now? Then I can crawl.

And sometimes that’s what we have to do. Some days we can dance around and through wherever we want to go. Others we can walk with our head held high. But if we sometimes have to crawl to get there, at least we can say we never gave up. One day, one step at a time.

We’ll all get there.