An Empty Vessel

I honor my values, my commitments to the people in my world.

But they know the truth.  All the time my hands are serving them; my heart is far removed from them.  How could they NOT know?

For whatever reason, these values and subsequent commitments have become Dead to this time – this place.  That death must be acknowledged before Life can be restored.  Before Renewal can take place.

I will no longer put my energies into honoring old values and old commitments.  Now I honor a new commitment – Presence.  It is more important that my heart be in what I’m doing than for me to honor commitments out of habit.

Daily Prayer

In the words of June Carter Cash:

 ”Thank you, oh Lord, for all the wonderful things of this day.  Thank you for all my blessings.  Use me in any way you see fit.  Amen.”

This quote was taken from John Carter Cash’s book, “Anchored In Love”.

It is a prayer that says it all.  Everything that needs saying.  It is the kind of prayer that opens us up to “Be all that We can Be” to ourselves and to others;  and gives thanks to Whom it belongs. 

I pray that I never again get so caught up in my disappointments that I forget to say this prayer – forget to Live this prayer.

Amen!

The Cracked Pot

An elderly woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole, which she carried across her neck.  One of the pots had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.

 At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.  This went on daily for a full two years, with the woman bringing home only one and a half pots of water.  Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.  But the cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day when they were by the stream.  “I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to the house.”

The old woman smiled, “Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other pot’s side?  That’s because I have always known about the crack that you consider your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your side of the path.  Every day while we walk back, you water them.  For two years, I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table.  Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.

Author Unknown but I suspect it is an adaptation of the original story that came from India.

Musk Ox

The beauty of the musk ox is evident in the graceful way it runs across the tundra.

 I often remind myself of one of those heavy “hard on the head” books that you can only handle when you are in the right space for it.  I always have a lighter book or two that I read at the same time – in between digesting each morsel that the “heavier” book  gives me.

 A short time after marrying my “rainbow stew” guy, we were returning home from a visit with my parents.  I could tell from the rigid set of his jaw that he was annoyed with me.

This was nothing new for me – for somebody to be annoyed with me for saying something I felt compelled to say.  But I usually managed to shelter him from those “hard to take” words of mine – or feed them to him with as much gentleness as possible.  I really hated having him annoyed with me.

Finally, I said in an exasperated voice, “You think you got it hard.  I gotta live with me twenty-four hours a day.”

He looked at me for a couple minutes, not believing he heard me correctly.  One look at my face showed my sincerity and he could not stay angry at me.

It’s like I told my brother once, “Don’t you think that if we had a choice in the matter, we would all choose to be one of those people that are real easy to be around all the time.  But we are who we are – those genes can not be denied – only refined.

Legacy Of A Soldier

He never wavered in his loyalty to his country or his comrades.  His bravery on the battlefield was rewarded by the medals he brought home with him.  Medals he never talked about……….. a war he never discussed except with fellow veterans who brought things to him to be fixed – and even then it was discussed only because they brought it up.

He kept all his memories inside with whatever other demons haunted him until he was in his sixties…..recovering from a stroke….no longer physically able to work……….grieving the loss of a son ………Finally there were too many losses to be contained in one vessel so….he began to share just a little……a teaspoonful here and there from the barrel he had stored inside.

She was his shadow when she was little – followed him everywhere – even out to his workshop.  She was so quiet they would forget she was there.  The stories they told often frightened her – gave her nightmares for a long time after.

But she didn’t mind that half as much as when he would sit in his armchair after they left and give himself over once again to the pain he couldn’t let go of.

Helplessly she stood and looked on – wanting to help – not knowing how.

 She would carry his pain with her – into her old age – like a part of her own life experience – like a toothache that wouldn’t go away - connecting her to the darker pieces of life’s puzzle.

Bitchin’

My food addiction has been trying to tell me for years that there is a cost for trying to be all things to all people.

And I’m not doing them any favors – not in the long run – not like I thought I was.

“Oh, are you having trouble with that?  Let me do it for you.”

Then they run off and play while I am left to do all the work…. and I get bitchy because of it.

And now it has gone on for so long that I don’t know how to do it any different.

 But I’m going to learn.

The Playing Field

He was a bit of a horse’s ass, really.

Love had approached him in many different guises during his lifetime.  But he wasn’t about to be “suckered in” by that shit.  He knew better.

Then he encountered the matchstick girl whose very presence glowed with the love she found in other people’s shit.

Finally, not being able to stand the “not knowing” any longer, he just came right out and asked her – point blank – in his horse’s ass sort of way,  “Why are you always mucking about in this shit, anyways.  You could be over there… making money… building a fortune.”

Knowing that he would never understand even if she told him, she just smiled  and quietly said,  “I feel more at home here.  It is where I belong.”

Aunt Mildred

She was a survivor.

The first in her  large family to have cancer – while her children were still young – she long outlived all her brothers and sisters – also her husband.

She loved to cook – devoted her life to it actually.  She prepared many a fine meal for family and friends.

A few months before she died – on the way to the hospital in an ambulance after having a heart attack - she noticed some beautiful pumpkins at the outdoor market.  She commented on them to her son who was sitting beside her, “Those are mighty fine looking pumpkins; we’ll have to stop and get some.”

“Mom, we can’t stop to get pumpkins.  You’re on the way to the hospital in the back of an ambulance,” her son responded in an exasperated tone of voice.

“I meant on the way home, stupid,” was her quick comeback.

Life’s Journey

We would all prefer to sail from one life experience to another – like the majestic ships we seek to be.  But life does not happen that way.

We are often touched at a deep level by life’s lessons.  The scars and wounds can not be visibly seen; but they need just as much time to heal as physical wounds.  Pretending they are not there will just make the healing process take longer.

It is like the children’s game where, in singing a song, they keep meeting up with obstacles – “We can’t go over it, we can’t go around it; we’ll have to go through it.”

This might mean we will have to crawl part of the way, and limp the rest of the way – but when we get where we are going, we will be able to look back and say, “The journey was worth it.”