There’s buttercups and johnny-jump-ups. Lady slippers and lily of the valley. Baby’s breath and violets. I love this time of year for it’s delicate beauty in spring flowers. Their intricate little faces gently pressed to the powder blue sky of spring. The closer you gaze the more their darling quiet beauty takes your breath away. Little veins and pretty puffs of colour along their surface. Their precious petals like velvet between your fingers. Their gentle fragrance healing and so welcome after a long dark winter. Crocus’s bloom on the stony ridges of the Rockies. Their fragile periwinkle petals swaying in the gusts of summer gales and stretching their sturdy stems up towards the warm spring sun.
I used to love the carpets of johnny-jump-ups in the fields near my childhood home. After making a bed amongst them and enjoying the buzz of the happy bees and spotting lady bugs labouring up their tiny stems, I would pick some. Dirt and roots hanging from the little lime green stems. Their blue and white star faces smiling at me, I would smile back at them as I ran to my family’s kitchen door. Sliding a chair to the glass cupboard and stretching on my tippy toes to get the vase and then again straightening the chair by the sink. Grasping my tiny little bundle of joy in one hand, and stretching my young body over the stainless steel sink to turn the water on. It was such a joy to me to bring my dear mama the first spring bouquet of blue and white wonder.
I’m grateful for the purity we can find in life. We must grasp onto these precious things. Human hearts have a longing for the lovely and there’s much to fill it. If we open our eyes and soften our hearts.
Sending you all a bundle of happy spring flowers in my heart today.
Some of the synonyms for victim actually made me smirk. There’s something funny about the unsuspecting getting the chair pulled out from under them as they sit down. But really sometimes there’s damage done. Wounds that take awhile to heal. Yes we have been a victim of circumstance. It’s true, at different times in our lives we all are a victim. It’s life. This crazy carnival of life sometimes will smash our pretty heads up along the side of the merry go round. Does that mean we didn’t enjoy the ride? I don’t think so. I’m waiting in line for my next go round. I hope you’re all with me.
There’s a great capacity to heal in the human heart and body. And we all heal. Well most of us. Unless we have a Victim Mentality. Those are the people on the benches nursing their wounds. Peeling the band aid every three seconds and wondering why it won’t heal. Those are the ones focusing on the millisecond when fate had it that something malfunctioned and there was pain. For a minute. Maybe the ride had to stop. Maybe paramedics were called. Your heart pounded and there was weakness and even blood. The worried stares of passersby and whispered words of worst case scenario.
So we have a choice. Don’t you enjoy the wind in your hair? The pleasant experience of soaring along on the ride of life? Hearing the music, feeling the beat of life’s dance? The times you let go of the bar and put your hands in the air and your eyes water from the wind on your face? Or are you enjoying that hard bench in the heat. Your shoe sticking to the kids bubblegum spat onto the pavement. The baby screaming in the stroller beside you.
Get back on the ride. It’s where magic happens. Your head may get smacked again against that candy cane painted grate again. But so what. Most of the ride will be exhilarating and joy inducing.
Those who sow in tears, shall reap in joy. Sometimes our lives require us to sow seeds when it’s storming. On stony ground. On windswept cliffs. Maybe the farmer’s almanac says its going to be a horrible growing season. But we sow anyway. Those tender little seeds contain life. There’s hope in the seed of a harvest. The sower has no control over the condition of the ground. The weather. But hope is what motivates the sower. They’ve seen beautiful fruit come to fruition in seasons past. They know the potential of the seed. And their love for the beauty of the fruit and it’s gift to the world is why they sow.
“he that regardeth the wind will not sow. whoever regardeth the clouds will not reap”
Pay no heed to the sheets of rain. The dryness of the earth. The stones that protrude. Statistics that point to doom. Gather tenderly the little precious seeds into the palm of your hand. Those precious seeds from the fruit of generations before. And scatter them in hope.
It does. But it’s so worth It. I realize I’d rather love and hurt than turn the tap off. Because no matter what, there’s that dang trickle. And eventually your heart just fills up and wants to explode. So let it gush. Throw it around like confetti. Don’t expect anything back. If you do, it’s not love at all. It’s selfish. Nothing about love is selfish. It sometimes feels scary to love like that. Like somehow we will be consumed. Drained. But really giving love is what actually heals us. Fills us. It truly is better to give than to receive. It’s a spiritual law. Like gravity it cannot be denied. One thing we can be assured of, love sown in a soft heart will grow the sweet fruit of a relationship. In whatever form it takes. So sow those seeds. Recklessly and with abandon. Rich will be your harvest. Sometimes in the most unlikely fields. Generations will thank you for spreading those seeds and will fill the hearts of many for years to come.
We all want to Arrive. Most of us will just be somewhere Along The Journey for our entire lives. That’s the Truth of it. What if we arrive and it was the journey that was the Most Wonderful? The Best Part. Maybe we met the greatest Travelling Companions along the way. The Scenery was Heartstopping. The Thrills of the hair pin turns made us feel Alive! Maybe we learned along the way to love the Grind. We learned to love Increments of Progress.
Today, Let’s Love the Process. Stop looking for the Elusive Utopia of Arrival. Because the Journey is what makes us Engage. Think. Plan. Decide. Create. Live.
Nope, sure didn’t. Square between the eyes. Dead Center. Pretty much worked like a Lobotomy. I spent a Long Time in Zombie Mode. Breathing. Existing. Hand to Mouth. Clothes to Work. Work to Bed. The Cycle Continued. But out of that Messy Carnage is rising something I could never Prepare Myself for. Life is New. It’s Different. Absolutely Nothing Frightens Me. Hope is Sacred to Me. Health is Treasured. Energy is something I bow my Head and say Thanks for. Having Strength Left to Serve Others feels Amazing.
So Thank You Lobotomizing Bullet. I’m Glad I didn’t Dodge You. I have been Reborn. Resurrected. Renewed.
Don’t Hate on Anyone or Anything that Stops You in Your Tracks. Being in Zombie Mode after the Bullet was one Thing. But I didn’t know I was the Walking Dead anyway. In Desperate Need of a Restart.
I sat down at my Desk. I had the door open so I could Smell the Rain. The May Day Trees are in Bloom and the fragrance Hung Heavy in the Damp Air. The Cherry and Apple Blossoms are at their full bloom and also the Lilacs on our street. It’s very close to Heaven out there. As I sat with the door open, I looked at the Desk. It was covered with Treasures. I had to take a picture. To my Left, is a manual for a new job I have started. I’m so excited for a chance to assist a local author as she begins her Journey through Film. Under the manual is a picture of a dear Hawaiian Couple who we have not seen in several years. Their beautiful Hawaiian Lilt still lingers in my heart. I’m not sure how it found my desk this afternoon, but I think it was when I was shuffling some papers around, I pulled it out for a Loving Moment. Above that, is a plate that hung on a wall of a Dear Friend Esther who is now called Home. A Precious Woman. Directly in front of me are two Notes. One from my last boss, a Precious Note saying I helped her grow as a lawyer and as a person. I Treasure it, because it truly was at my Weakest when I was in her life. I Loved Her Fervently. Then there is my Dear Nadia who handed me a card when we ended our trip to Victoria. On the envelope it had said “You do You”….I laughed receiving that since we so often say that to each other. I love her Sense of Humour. I’m grateful for my Menagerie of Happiness scattered on my desk. It’s the Simple Things. It’s Others. It’s Life’s Opportunities that help us Grow and Evolve. It’s Blossoms. It’s Spring Rain.
The Term to describe someone who helps others put their best foot into the world these days is a Image Consultant. The name is Unpleasant to me. To me, Image is a Facade and it is the one thing in Life that can keep us Stuck. As Long as the Outside looks Perfect so many People stay Unevolved and Broken. So please in the Comment Section below, give me some suggestions of Other Description Ideas of what I could put on my Website and Business Cards. I will Gratefully Ponder all and Make a Choice.
That being Said, I want to iterate why I have Chosen to Speak to the Heart in my Blogs, Focus on Heart Issues. Spirituality. The Place where True Beauty Resides. The kind that Ages like Fine Wine. The kind that Shines through Dimmed Eyes when Dewey Skin has Disappeared and the Vitality of Youth has Quietly Faded.
If Heart Issues first aren’t Rectified, the Good Fed and Nurtured ,we become Plastic. Fruitless. We become One Dimensional and No Clothing, No Impeccable Style can make us Feel Good. All it does is feed our Poor Childish Egos. The Part of Us that strives to be the Coolest, the Trendiest. The Person Admired on the Street.
When the Heart is Right, we Dress to Celebrate Life. Art. Our God Given Personalities that are Uniquely Us. And should be Embraced Wholeheartedly. Not to be Noticed but to add Beauty and Uniqueness to the World. To Encourage Others to Celebrate Themselves in Uniquely Them Ways.
So Today, as All Days, I will Focus on the Garden of My Heart. Humility, Love, Kindness, Forgiveness and Peace. S E L F L O V E . Self Love means Tending to Our Hearts. Pulling the Noxious Weeds of Pride, Ego and Competition. Then we will Celebrate Life with Great Style. Our Own Style. And we will Encourage Others to Embrace Theirs.
(I Love the little hand tied red string on the back of the plate. I love picturing her hands lovingly tying the knot.)
To the Christian and the Jew, Esther is a Special Woman. We use the expression “Mother of Israel” when there’s a Woman in our Community who Lives for Others and who’s Heart Beats to Nourish and Cherish Others. So this Morning, my Heart is thinking of a Special Namesake Esther in my Life who has gone to Her Eternal Home. She lived in Kamloops, British Columbia. We used to live on the Shuswap Lake, and She Adopted Us. Brought us right into the Warm Sphere of her Love. Many a Sunday Dinner was spent over her lace tablecloth and dainty china. Her Soft Melodic Voice still Rings in my Heart. Her husband Cam so much more Boisterous and Entertaining and yet her Presence was Equally as Treasured. When she Spoke, we all Reverently Listened. To my Heart, it was Like an Angel’s Voice. When she opened her mouth, Grace Poured Out. She never Spoke Evil of Anyone. She was Strength of Gentleness Personified. Meekness and Love Embodied. Last night I had the enormous privilege of her Gorgeous Grandson, Chris Adams here for Mother’s Day. So fitting to celebrate Mother Esther with Him. I have a plate by my bed that hung on her bathroom wall. The only thing I asked for when she passed. To me, the saying on the plate, it Embodies Esther. I loved taking a Moment and Looking at His Capable Noble Hands holding his Grandmother’s Plate. A Rich Moment for Me.
Today, I have a Twenty Something Esther in my Life. Who’s Lips at such a Young Age Pour out Grace. Her Smile Lights up My Life. Her Positivity Contagious. She has no idea how often I see the Correlation between Esther of Israel, Esther of Kamloops, and now Esther of Calgary.
My Life is So Rich. Because of the Richness of Other’s Hearts. Maybe Today, I can be in some small way a Blessing to Others.
I haven’t looked out for Jeannine for a long time. In fact, I feel like I’ve told her, “Take the back burner honey.” There’s Surviving to do, Breathing, Tough Stuff like that. But I’m Ready. I’m Ready to Start Living. Passionately. With Purpose. I have Hobbies Galore. Half Learned Languages. Ok, one eighth learned. Dusty Canvases. Forlorn Cookbooks. My Muscles used to be Tight to the Bone. I was an Avid Fitness Girl for Eight Whole Years. So my Running Shoes are going on. Hey, I’m 43, it’s Flipping Time. Flipping. Time.
Who’s with me? In the comment section below, tell me one thing you’re going to Dust Off. Dig Out. Break Out. Start Again. Try Out. Recharge.