At once I feel liberated when learning how simple something is.  Oh, you can make laundry detergent by mixing three ingredients?  Make it smell good by putting in some essential oil?  You can make bread with simple ingredients?  You can manifest peace in the world by connecting with one another?

What?

In one of those moments of clarity, it all makes sense.  Our greed, rage, mistrust — ultimately fear — all rest in the fact that we do not recognize each other.  We do not see one another, truly.  We have lost our connection with humanity, our connection as a collective whole.  For some it gets lost immediately; there is no sense of family or home.  For some it exists strongly to include their nation or even their religion but goes no further.

Our readings at church on Sunday included Jesus’ commandment to love one another.  So simple.  Our priest went on to say that this doesn’t mean we have to love-love others like we love our spouse/children/mother/father/friends.  I wish I could find a reference, but I’ll take her at her word when she said that one of the best translations for what Jesus said when he said “love” was “to connect.”  Connect with your self.  Connect with your neighbor.  Connect with the stranger on the street.  Connect with your enemy.  “It’s not all warm and fuzzy,” she said.  We just have to connect with them.

I see this as not only connecting with them as fellow humans, but there is something electric in the connection that ties us to the Divine.  For me to truly connect with you, I have to let that God-spark in me recognize the God-spark in you.  No matter what choices you’ve made in this life, or me, either, I cannot change that we are of the same Holy stuff, and that connection carries us beyond any rational comprehension on my part.

I believe our connections are nurtured by the beauty of nature, by kindness, by good will.  I cannot help but wonder if our connections are dimmed by the magnitude of currents surrounding us these days by technology.  In some ways they tie us together (I’m getting to share with you on my blog), but in so many others, they alienate us from one another (how many hours do you spend alone at the t.v./computer?).

I took a mental health day and went hiking with friends and my youngest on Tuesday.  On the soft, worn path, between a bluff and a boulder, below a spring-green canopy, I was fed, fueled for a moment in what is good and true.  No words were spoken.  Just a connection made.

Contrast that with last night’s Cinco de Mayo night out at a local dive.  So many people coming together to “celebrate” by getting inebriated and singing karaoke.  Were these people connecting?  Or were they moreso trying to fill the void they feel by lack of genuine connection?  Is it easier to commiserate in idle play/nonsense than to face our realities as they are?

Jesus didn’t say we had to approve of each other’s choices.  We just have to connect to one another enough to see each other — all of us — for what we truly are — holy.

So simple.

Dear Hearts (yes, this includes you),

I remember the night I sat in a class about the “authentic” journey, making a list of those I admire.  I remember the shock, near horror, of being told that I possess the qualities of those I admire.  How could I possibly possess their qualities, their potential?  But my denial or disbelief doesn’t change what is.

Now it’s a new year, particularly the Twelfth Day of Christmas, and I find myself richly blessed, ready to embrace the present truly as the gift it is.  I give thanks for all the past has brought me.  I read through my gratitude journal from the past year, and I could feel the radiance of love, warmth, and joy.  Looking forward into this year, I know these blessings will continue.  I have an optimistic yet realistic view on what this year brings.  It includes hard work, but it also brings growth and progress in all aspects of my life.  I hope your friendship will endure my work.  Though I may not seem as available as I’ve been, know that your presence abides with me.

I realize that you, too, are on the list among those I admire, and you, too, teach me much about who I can be, who I am.  Your love, companionship, laughter, warmth, appreciation, humor, gratitude, hope, inspiration, gentleness, faith, doubt, will, strength, perseverance and openness are just a few of the things I count among our treasures.  Thank you for teaching me and allowing me to teach you, as the aikido sensei is fond of saying.

It may be a new year, but it is just another day.  Each day the sun rises, we have the opportunity to take yet another cleansing breath, let it all go, and begin again.  Thank you for sharing your journey with me.  I look forward to all that is to come, but mostly, I give thanks for all that is.  You here, now, is a gift.  You have my love and gratitude, now as always.

xoxo,

Sara

Yesterday morning started with the normal frenzy of a young family household getting three kids ready for school and then a mom trying to decide which thing to do first, followed by a slew of other things.  I let my three-year-old determine the first course of action.  She wanted to go to the gym to see a friend; I knew I needed to go to the gym.

Ironically, I sat on the stationary bike reading in preparation for a class I’m leading today.  The topic:  HeartMath, compassion, patience, changing my concept of time, being fully present.  My legs pedaled along, my eyes moved forward, and I tried to sit quietly, absorbing my reading.  I appreciated the irony of my multi-tasking.

My three-year-old changed my course, again, as she decided to go home with a friend.  Suddenly, my morning opened even more.  Pottery?  Writing?  Sewing?  What to do next on my own.

I had told a friend we would come play, but now I was alone.  I called her anyway, and found her scurrying to clean before her mom showed up.  But her toddler insisted upon being carried.  I found myself volunteering to come help her clean for a bit; I’d still have time to go home and do something before my afternoon appointments.

At my friend’s house, rather than cleaning, I was asked to hold the toddler.  He melted into my arms and chest and soon fell asleep.  All I had to do was hold him.  All I had to do was be calm and still.  I was given time to sit, holding that precious reminder that children bring us just to be.  My friend got to clean without an aching back, and I got time to be still, snuggling with her warm babe.  I left not long before her mom arrived to a house mostly restored.

I didn’t have time to go back to my own home, but I did have time for coffee and a snack at another friend’s house.  I arrived at my afternoon meetings peaceful and present.

Maybe I should let my youngest help me make decisions more often.  Maybe I just need more time to sit.

Thanks be to the children.

A sure-fire way to get your home thoroughly clean is to have an out-of-town guest.  At least one a month ought to do the trick.  Let that be my cleaning advice for the quarter.

My husband and I were most grateful to have a friend come visit us last week, just overnight, but also in conjunction with a pizza party, brick-oven style.  I have a lot on my plate at the moment, and I was primarily consumed with thoughts of preparing for the cabin retreat I was organizing for the weekend.  Somehow I missed that our guest was actually staying the night in our house.  Ack!  Now I really had to clean the bathroom and make sure there were clean sheets on the bed.  (You don’t just willingly sleep in a kindergartner’s bed unless you know for certain it’s been cleaned; at least, I don’t!)

As I scrubbed the kids’ shower, I thought surely my husband had invited his pal to stay over so that I would get the house nice and clean before I left for the weekend.  I didn’t blame him; it needed to be done, and I was glad to do it.  Our paths crossed in the kitchen a few minutes later, when he came in from his yard work for something.  I told him what I thought.

“The funny thing is,” he said, “is that I figured you had invited him so that I’d finally get the yard all cleaned up.”

We both had a good chuckle and carried on with our work, knowing that we truly weren’t out to get the other for any inadequacies.  We were indeed working together with a common purpose and happy hearts.

Most of our friends know we work best under pressure, and somehow everything that had to be done got done.  My husband yet again wowed us with his pizza-making skills, and I left the house mostly clean the next afternoon.

Thank you, Casey, for everything, and thank you, Ryan, for coming to visit!  Come back any time!  Let this be an open invitation to all our out-of-town friends. 

There’s “spring cleaning,” and I figure what I’m going through now is “fall clearing” — when it’s time to clear the clutter, make some organizational shifts, and make sure my priorities are in line before the long nights of winter set in. (It only seems far off; we know how time gets away from us.)  Honestly, the coming fall fills me with as much excitement as spring, just in a different way.

The days have just been hot enough to make you sweat, and many nights have been cool enough to cut the a/c and open the windows.  I sense a pull to what is natural, intuitive.  I’m making decisions based on a gut feeling, and great things are happening, however seemingly small they might be.

All this is related in that by clearing out some of the stuff that’s filling my days, my house, my mind, I am making room for quiet, for creativity, for Divine energy to move about and through me.  I love being aware of the synchronicities as they unfold, and I love having time to participate in them.  I offer unbounded thanks to those who are able and willing to participate with me.

This morning, after daddy took the older children to school, I was clearing the breakfast table (from a yummy feast of omelets and potato cakes).  Table clear, dog having eaten the leftovers, I gathered up the compost.  The youngest had been going in and out the back door, revelling in her ability to open and close the sliding glass door, talking in her suddenly realized vocabulary about the cat and dog being in and out, out and in.  I watched her through the window when she was outside making a barricade of her body so the cat couldn’t go any further.  Of course, the cat just walked around her.  Suddenly, she ran inside to get a “tiny bowl.” “Mommy come?” she asked.  I slipped on my shoes and grabbed the compost.  It was time again to get a little raspberry snack.  I dumped my bowl of scraps and grounds and then searched with childlike enthusiasm for the dark red treats, wondering why I had ever worried about the birds and the bugs getting them all.  We have to share.  With our snack-sized bounty, we turned to the house.  Behind the glass door, I saw my husband smiling, coffee in hand, and I relished the moment when our little one realized her daddy was back home.

It truly is the little moments that make life rich, even if we tend only to remember the big events.  As I continue my late summer and early fall clearing, I hope to continue to embrace the time given to do what need be done but also be who and where I need to be.  I wish no less for you, with love.

Walking in public places, do you notice the awkwardness of when to make contact with others?  Should I look into their eyes?  Smile?  What if they look up just as I’m looking away?  Should I send good energy their way or conserve?

Then I think about how ridiculous the whole concept is if, in fact, the energy isn’t mine to give but ours to share.  I sense an obligation to make contact with others who participate in this life with me, as I participate in this life with them.  I offer my smiles, my focus, even if it’s just a moment, as it usually is.  Maybe that moment of contact, of relation, with all its sincerity and lack of expectation, can be like the butterfly in the chaos theory, changing the course of events for the better.

It only takes a moment to let someone know, “I hear you.  I witness you here and now.  You are not alone.”

In our Circle of Trust, during our small group time, we conclude each focus person’s time with “We hear you.  We honor you.  We bless you.  We love you.  We are blessed by you.”  (something like that,  anyway)  And the miraculous thing is we really mean it.  How often do you get to say these words and feel in your heart of hearts the deep connection?  This practice is spreading into the rest of my life, opening my heart so that it’s not just those with whom I work closely that I feel a connection, that I experience a deep, genuine love.  I daresay this practice of compassion is growing into Compassion.

There is no one point of contact, no quantitative measure of when and where to do this or that in society, regarding when to smile and/or make eye contact or not.  It’s just as true to form not to make eye contact, so long as we feel the connection, honor the other and participate in our wholeness.

Your suffering is my suffering.  Your joys are my joys.  Your life is mine, as mine is yours.  I bow to the Buddha in you as you see the Christ in me.  Here we are, as One.

I hear you.  I honor you.  I bless you.  I love you.  I am blessed by you.

In the birthday card I gave my husband this year, I couldn’t help but mention that when we got engaged and then married, he could not have known the people we would grow to be.  Yet here we are thirteen years later, eleven of which have been in marriage (as of tomorrow).

I heard a statistic that if you make it past the first seven years of being married, it’s like making it over the hill.  Then, of course, you hear of all these marriages that crumble into divorce after up-teen years together, even 20 or 30 years.  What makes a marriage stick?

*Warning: These are non-clinical hypotheses, just a lay-woman’s view.*

Marriage takes a constant flow of energy.  Hopefully this energy is given and received, given room for expansion and contraction, and allowing room for growth and change.  Oftentimes, this means we have to work at it, we have to give a little push or pull.  Some of us need lessons, as if learning to dance; each learning how to lead and how to follow.  As long as we’re willing to work together in our relationship, it can thrive amazingly in any circumstance.  It can look beautiful and effortless, even be so.

There are times, however, when the flow is broken.  It can be tragic or necessary.  When I say necessary, I mean as in cases of violence (physical or emotional) or cases of distrust.  Some say time heals all wounds, but some wounds are too vulnerable for constant exposure and need to be out of a situation to be given opportunity to heal.

I consider myself blessed to be in a loving flow of energy with my husband.  Even as we’re growing into who and what we want to be when we “grow up” and feel some of those growing pains, we’re in it together, aware of each other as individuals and as a whole.  We are dancing, however awkwardly.  (Given our height disparity, this is a particularly funny image to me!)

This same philosophy on sacred marriage can be applied to any relationship, however large or small.  If we can be conscientious of the flow of loving energy with others, our capacity of respect and growth is amazing.  But sometimes the seemingly smallest infringement creates a dam to the flow, and sometimes even humility isn’t enough to mend.  Sometimes paths have to diverge, change course — often for the better.

Marriage is work and not work.  Marriage is sacred, and like all sacraments, there is a great underlying Mystery at its core.  What better ground to dance upon and with and through than that of Love?

Here’s to many more years of beautiful music.

I’m finding it difficult to focus on that which must be done.  I’m caught in the mental quagmire of thinking about those who are faced with life-threatening illness and preparing myself for a weekend retreat.  Some are facing the reality of their mortality, and I am delighting in the vitality of my life, the blessings of my nurturing community and ability.

Life is full of these paradoxes, though.  There is birth and death every day, but this is just what we see with our limited vision.  If we could take our focus away from the blatant physical dimension, perhaps we would be able to sense the divine spark in everything, feel the Presence that is the source of life, imbuing us with the energy and very vitality that we describe as “life.”  Energy is neither created nor destroyed.

One of my responsibilities is to trust that all that unfolds has meaning, that ultimately, everything contributes to the greater good, even if I can’t see how.  My vision and understanding are finite, very limited.  If I allow myself to trust, however, I feel like my understanding is broadened; I feel hope.  One of my other responsibilities might be to help others sense this trust and hope.  Some might call it faith.

Whether our body is overtaken with cancer or if we have years stretched before us, the truth is that in every moment, we may not know the difference.  The truth is that the only thing that truly matters in every moment is that we love and love deeply with reckless abandon.  In that, there are no regrets.  And that is a responsibility we all have.

Today marks Day 4 of my Master Cleanse, the third time I’m trying it, hopefully the first time I actually make it through all 10 days.  I’m not doing it alone, though.  My husband and two other couples are doing it, along with some others.  Were it not for the support, I would have already quit.  My constitution is weak.  I dearly enjoy a good meal and am blessed to have the ability to provide such.

But do I need lavish meals?  No.  I want them.  I enjoy everything about preparing a meal, no matter how much I might complain.  I especially enjoy when the meal is shared, when I can provide nourishment to others.  During the Journey class I’m taking, we took our spiritual gifts inventory, and hospitality is definitely one of my gifts.

Having elaborate meals is a want, but being in relation to others may very well be a need.  Dinner parties give me the best of both worlds, and my husband and I are deciding to make this a regular part of our lives.  Our goal, however, is to prepare healthy meals.  We just need some more planning.  When I have a list of resources, I promise to share.

What other ways can we consciously see where our needs and wants combine?  What wants can we truly give up, do without?  Are all our needs being met?  We may think we want a space of our own, but isn’t it really a need if it improves the quality of our life?

It’s a difficult topic, determining what is crucial to our “quality of life.”  At the core, our needs are the same.  Our layers, though, begin to differ depending on where we live, our society, our livelihood, etc. 

What are we doing to improve our own quality of life?  What are we doing to improve the lives of others?