What is Clearing You Out?

This poem by Rumi has me thinking:

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture;
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

-Rumi

Feel the Feng Shui of the flow?

My heart is digging it today!

Strong Hearts

My amazing hubby was going about his day to day business yesterday, just doing the normal; the mundane errands, the daily do's. Suddenly feeling woozy, he thought he'd better get a breath of air. Dizzy then and feeling "a bit strange", he suddenly knew he must get some help. It was a strange pain, starting in his rib area and radiating across his chest, tingling and unfamiliar; intense and not to be ignored.

Driving back over the mountain pass to be with him I leaned on the steering wheel in a position foreign to me; a bit sideways. The relief of arriving safely at the hospital was followed by an eerie hesitation to enter the Critical Care Unit. Then, rushing in, with what I hoped was at least a degree of poise amidst my inner terror, the male nurse motioned in the direction of CCU 6. There he was, in the hideous hospital gown, the familiar, open, loving, knowing grin on his face. Ah, the peace of that hairy embrace. Somehow a chair pulled near the mechanical bed didn't feel adequate. I want to be closer. "Can fit up there next to you?" My thoughts run towards feeling thankful that heart monitors are wireless these days, and to how much those sticky pads are going to hurt when they get ripped off. Laying my head on this chest, there it was; his beating heart. We had an inner conversation then, heart and I. "Keep it up in there. You're strong you know. You can do it. Please........beat."

Today there will be more tests and findings. In the midst, I will continue conversing with this brave heart of love. May it be strong!

Slowing Down - Untangling the Knots

While packing for my next trip, a last minute whim leads me to throw in an extra piece of jewelry; just because...."one never knows". Often I go back, attending to places on the chain which have become tangled in my hurry. There are knotted places in the chain and in my stomach as I contemplate the daunting task at hand. My shoulders rise and tighten as I focus determinedly, hoping I won't break the fragile, lovely and delicate chain.

Slowing my life down recently, I've noticed telltale "knots" on the gold chain of my life. These feel edgy and unfamiliar, yet somehow they are relieved to finally be truly seen. In the midst of my decision to focus on untangling I will probably alienate some people. I am risking being misunderstood. This is my greatest fear.

As I sit here untangling these knots, I want to be remembering a core truth. What people think of me is none of my business. The chain of my life will flow better and be sturdier, truer in its state of "untanglement". I'm sensing a resultant inner contentment and ease, even amidst the uncertainty of the process. This chain may end up being stronger than I thought.

What do you think?

My Christmas Wish

This year I am wanting Christmas to mean more. I don't want to overspend in order to satisfy expectations I believe are less there than imagined.

I want to exchange love, long sincere hugs, gales of laughter and memories. I want do more playing, eating and simple enjoying without the obligatory pressure inherent in the quest for the perfect gift, meal and experience. This is my Christmas wish.

How do you accomplish this in your life? What do you think?

Sandboxes and souls

One of my favorite places to play, at the tender age of 3, was in my sandbox. Summertime sand was a welcome wake up to my toddler toes. I'd plop down gleefully free in the soft sand, scooping shovelfulls liberally. Soon I was ready to combine it with water and place it in my bright pink, white handled bucket, packing it down firmly like brown sugar in a measuring cup.

Upturning my bucket, the "castle" would be revealed and promptly judged to be crushed or left intact. Sticks or other objects might be added for enhanced interest, but often it was simply unsatisfactory and summarily smooshed for another try at castle perfection.

My soul is a sandbox. Here in this 50th year of my life, well past toddlerhood, I am still digging, scooping, digging, forming and smooshing. It is an unexpected pleasure to be here, still playing really, in the sandbox of my soul.