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?

One of the tricks to unblocking your creativity in Julia Cameron’s Artist’s Way is to take yourself out on an artist’s date at least weekly.  This is a practice that takes much courage and dedication but has benefits untold.  The goal is, of course, to help fill the well of your creativity so that you don’t run dry.

One of my recent artist’s dates didn’t start out as such.  It started with rsvp’ing to a friend’s open studio.  But our weekend got crammed with one event after another.  Even when the goings-on are fun, it is tiring to a family of six to coordinate such a circus!  I thought about not going to the studio, but I felt committed.  Deep inside, I really wanted to go; I just didn’t know if we could pull it off.

With a van full of kids and places to be, my husband waited in said van while I went inside – by myself – to look at the photographs and studio, to make my appearance as promised and to hopefully arrange for portraits of the kids.

I wasn’t expecting what I received.

When I closed the door behind me, I let go of the past.  I walked into the present, wide open to possibility.  Gorgeous, indescribable black and white portraits of people I know and don’t know lined the walls.  I visited with friends I treasure and don’t get to visit with nearly often enough.  A morning’s misunderstanding was cleared.  For the first time I realized that this was a treat for me.

I walked around into the studio, and instead of portraits, now I saw what the photographer entitled “Persistence.”  You’ll have to go to him for the story, but I think it speaks for itself.  The mostly floral images and the experimentation with technique and style whispered something to me I still don’t understand.  After a good fill of admiring, I sat and visited with this gifted photographer.

Again, this openness, this connection I wasn’t expecting.  A new friend, yes.  A fellow Scorpio and one appreciative of spirituality and the journey therein (you could tell from the books on the shelves).  As we spoke, an energy resonated from my heart/solar plexus (hard to be sure which), and about that time in our conversation he was saying something to the effect of how he is sensitive to the God within others, that he could sense it within me.

I didn’t ask for this; I didn’t expect it, nor the tears that swelled in my eyes.  I just came to arrange for some photos of my kids, photos taken by someone who could capture the soul of a person in portrait.  The photos will be taken and taken by someone who will recognize the God in my children; I got what I came for.  I also got an experience of Spirit, though.  I was in the right place, at the right time, with the right people.  I am who I’m supposed to be, if even for a moment.  Perhaps that is Persistence, too. 

The best things in life come when you least expect it, when you’re not looking for them.  The truth is, of course, that they’re there all along.

Friday the 13th’s are special in my household, not in a negatively superstitious way, but because my husband and I were engaged on a Friday the 13th many years ago, got married on a 13th, and apparently in goddess traditions, it’s a very good day/number for fertility, marriage and sex (which might explain the four kiddos!).  Add to that the fact that tomorrow is Valentine’s day, and we have a whole weekend destined for Love.

May today be a day of love for you and your partner, a day full of gratitude for your family, and may your heart be open all weekend (and evermore) to the abundance of love both to give and to receive.

Today marks one full year of blogging, sharing my life, stories and reflections.  I hope this year has brought you closer to everything you love in life, and I look forward to continuing the journey together.

(And please pardon my absence this week as I’m off to witness the miracle of birth, a doula’s reward.)

Photo from everystockphoto.com

Recall the last conversation in which you spoke from the heart.

Think of the last time you listened with so much awareness and presence that you truly felt what the other person conveyed to you through words.

When is the last time you maintained eye contact long enough to glimpse the soul and true feeling of the person across from you, not diverting your gaze out of societal propriety?

Forget the e-mails, the Twitter, the insincere chatter and texts of your day and seek out what is truly meaningful in relationships — we have to genuinely relate.  Our souls need contact.

Our recent ice storms left many without electricity, many without heat.  Neighbors came together and helped each other, visited with each other; they connected.

In our Women’s Leadership Circle curriculum we’re using in our women’s spirituality group at church, the meat of the curriculum comes from the conversation that conveys our experiences, our observations, reflections from our heart.  No book, brochure or digital anything is going to replace the connection of souls sharing in Spirit.

Many lost or man-made electricity, but the current of energy that Spirit provides may have just been given a boost.  I hope your power is restored.

I cherish the fact that once a week, a dearly beloved mama-friend watches my younger children so that I have a couple of hours to run errands or to simply be alone.  This morning, though I planned a grocery shopping trip, other errands presented themselves.

I delivered (late Christmas) packets to some of our local OBs on behalf of BirthNetwork, and instead of dropping a packet in inner office mail, I actually called the Director of Women and Children’s Services to schedule an appointment to meet in person.  As someone entrenched in the birthing community in our area, I figure this is an important person to know and to have open communications with.  This was a bold step for me and an important one for our organization.  I hadn’t planned to make this connection today.

In effort to resume my morning pages (a journal of sorts), I next stopped at a local coffee shop for a tasty beverage and reflection.  When I walked in, there was an older gentleman just ahead of me.  We made eye contact, and of course I smiled.  Naturally, it didn’t go anywhere from there as he ordered, and I waited.  But this man conversed with the barista and with nearly every person he saw.

I almost took my drink and left the shop.  I could just write in the van.  There wasn’t a side table available, and I didn’t feel like writing at a table in the middle of the shop.  But I halted before the door and sat in a low leather chair in the corner, beside the lone high chair.  Can’t get away from the kids, I thought with a smile.

I wrote, but the older man was in my line of sight and his conversations interesting.  My writing changed direction, and I began to wonder if I was supposed to talk to this man.  Would I regret not talking to him?  I remembered the book Celestine Prophecy.  If I felt an energy connection with this person, truly I would be doing myself a disservice by not speaking to him.

So, I closed my book and rose to leave, but I went up to this perfect stranger, gently touched his arm for attention, and asked, “I’m sorry, but do I know you from somewhere?  You seem familiar to me.”  Perfectly true.  Perfectly bold for me.  I had no expectations.

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” he replied with a smile, and we exchanged introductions as we realized that we didn’t know each other.  We also exchanged small talk in an effort to establish some footing, I suppose, some understanding of where the other person comes from.  But this was small talk, generic conversation.  He is capable of much more.  What he does for a job is not who he is, just as being a mother is not entirely who I am.

He said he’s in there all the time.  I told him I would see him again, and I hope I do.  I’m so glad I listened to the inner voice that told me to say hello.  You just never know what each day might bring.

*I highly reccomend the iced cacao mocha at Arsaga’s.