Lean in.

  

I got a strong message the other day from my ‘tree’. With all the swirling politics and anger and fear around me, I knew I needed some wisdom. So I walked into the woods, planted my feet on the ground around the roots of one of my favorite Cedar trees. 

And I listened.

As I felt the familiar warmth radiate through my legs, up my back and into my shoulders, I waited quietly for the message. It doesn’t happen quickly. It waits for me to settle into the ground, quiet my mind and honor its presence. 

So I leaned in. 

As my feet absorbed the energy from the roots, my back and neck relaxed and my mind opened, I could sense the message was coming. And as usual, it was simple and powerful. 

And I heard. 

“Lean into the Good.”

Yes. Simple and clear and difficult all at the same time. Especially now. With all the turbulence and threats and fear around us, it’s hard to see anything good. But that’s the point, isn’t it? They want us to be mired in it all, spinning and swirling in fear. They feed off of it. I know, I can’t let that feed my thoughts.

I leaned in more. Head. Shoulders. Back. Legs. Feet. 

And I felt the change. The warmth. The light. The breath of light air. 

I inhaled it all deeply. 

The Strength. 

The Calm. 

The Good. 

It is the energy of the planet. 

It is the wisdom of the trees. 

Lean in. 

Feel the good. 

It’s there for me. 

For you. 

For all of us. 

Lean into the good. 

Finding Some Calm in the Storm

 

I don’t want to give in to the vortex of evil swirling around in this country. I’m aware and outraged. It is traumatic. I  understand everyone has their own ways to deal with it and while some are shouting and violent, I have to look for peaceful paths. 

I’ve had a year of physical issues that led to surgery and months of recovery. I’m learning to lean into what is best for my body, heart and mind. Walking in the park has helped me through sickness, surgery and life changes. And it’s helping me now to deal with the mess in the big White House. 

Stay rooted.  

That’s the message from my tree in the woods. As a child, my place of safety and calm was the woods nearby our suburban neighborhood. I sat leaning up against the tree for hours feeling at home and safe under its branches. I still visit ‘my trees’ in our nearby park, leaning in and listening to their wisdom. 

When I come home, I write those words down as a way to guide my day. Sometimes the words are a call to action. Other times, they are words of support and encouragement to keep me going. Right now, I think it’s important for you and me to find ways to stay rooted in truth and integrity. 

Mud.

Even as a child, I knew the power of mud. I’d sit in our yard and dig up the brown earth and hold it in my hands. If I had some water, I’d mix up mud soup. Other times, I’d dig deeper into the dirt where it was cool and firm, squish it between my hands and make mounds of elf houses. 

So it shouldn’t be a surprise that I still play with mud. It wasn’t my first career choice which was a writer in advertising. But my love of art and working with my hands lead me, once again, to mud. Working with clay, learning to throw objects and shape sculptures is my happy place. It just goes to show you, child’s play shows us our way in life. 

Right now, I need something to calm me during this stormy time. Maybe you do too. What did  you do that was ‘child’s play’? What was your happy place? Where did you feel safe?

Maybe it’s time to lean against a tree and ask. 

And find your own calm in the storm. 

  

Creating Quiet

I don’t know about you, but one thing I’ve noticed lately is how loud the world is around me. I’m not talking about the birds, bees, dogs, cats, cars, trucks or even sirens in the night. I’m talking about the noise of anger and hate and fear and frustration. These noises seem to be filling the world so much lately. 

I understand it. I embrace it too. This is a tumultuous time in our country and world. While things need to be said, voices need to be heard, it’s overwhelming. Sometimes, it feels like I’m surrounded by a never-ending protest rally. 

I know, I am part of that noise, too. And my ears are ringing. 

Quite literally, my ears have been alternately ringing and completely plugged. While I have been dealing with allergies, colds and an ear infection, it occurred to me there might be more going on here. 

It came to me as a whisper. Not a thought, but a message from somewhere outside of and beyond me. From a world worried about our world, I heard the word: quiet. 

How can quiet do anything? 

It can’t. And that’s the point. By sitting, or standing, or walking, or working quietly, the space around me changes. It becomes a space in which there is possibility. An area opens up to embrace a flow of movement, like a soft, cool breeze washing away the sticky, heated debate of the day. 

Sitting here on the window seat, I am surrounded by quiet. My son’s small dog sleeps on her side, perfectly still. My granddaughter rolls to her side, sighs softly and dreams away in her now quiet world. The room is filled and yet, open. 

Openings like this are so rare in our world. And yet, so needed. 

We need this kind of room for quiet to bring us rest, yes. But in this quiet, there is also an opening for us to be, just sitting and breathing in for once, instead of out.  And yes, as the fire truck wails beyond my window, I start to jump into that fear state of mind where, I realize I live too much of my life. Maybe you do too. 

So before my mind jumps all the way out the window and chases down the street with the fire truck, I breathe in, rest my head against the wall and stay here. Here in the quiet I’ve created, in this house, in this room, on this window seat, in my mind. 

I really feel that this quality of quiet is where the true solutions are created. 

Next time I get caught up in the whirlwind of noise around me, I’ll remember the whispers. Creating answers to difficult questions comes from creating enough quiet to hear new ideas and solid solutions. 

Maybe my stuffed ears was my body creating the quiet I really needed to hear. 

Creating Calm.

Two hundred year old trees burned to the ground. Black sooty ash blew on the hot, humid wind dusting the garden, window sills, table tops inside and out. The sun turned orange and the air thickened with smoke. Across the country, hurricanes and tropical storms and earthquakes have devastated lives, homes and whole cities. 

The President promised help some people but refused to help others and hundreds of people were forced from their homes and fire fighters risked their lives battling the flames in my own state. 

Even if, like me, your home is safe, you feel the fear too. 

We are all connected on this planet. We feel the pain of the trees and animals and the people. Unlike our President, I don't deny or blame or hide from that fact. I try to breathe, embrace and help in whatever small way I can. 

I realize I can't do much. I can't stop it or fix it or wish it away. But I can, in my own small corner of the world create some calm. I can sit with that calm, letting it flow through me, around me and like a soft, sweet, clear breeze sweeping past me out into the world. 

Carrying with it my hope, my love, my heartbeat in a rhythm of a meandering, babbling droplets of water that pool, then trickle softly and spurt hopefully reviving us all.