I Am Just Regular

'Let go of illusions.
  Release expectations.'

'Being, simply being.
  It's enough, you know.'

I am just regular.
  'That is just enough.'

It doesn't feel enough.
  It feels, somehow, amiss.

Regular is inadequate.
  'Regular is magnificent!'

I can't argue with you.
  'Yet, you try your best!'

I want more than regular.
  'What is it you want, then?'

I want to shine, brightly!
  'Then shine, for all to see!'

But, I'm just regular...
  'And yet, your light shines.'

Tortoise

The Tortoise requested to sit in the center
  of my alter, posed to see in all four directions.
  She can gaze down any path, but focuses on me.

She invites me into contemplation, to learn.
  With her great, slow strokes, she flies to the stars.
  I look upon her face and see eternity shining in her eyes.

Then, we are under water, her stroke unbroken.
  Her eyes wide, protected by a translucent sheath.
  In the dark, she sees clearly, swims steadily forward.

Again we are in the universe, gliding now around the moon,
  surfing on a planetary wave, catching the crest of the earth's gravity.
  Rounding the earth, the gravity unleashes its tether, hurtling us to the sun.

Into the sun's core we plunge, flesh incinerated, Spirit released.
  Cleansed, we linger in the calm, peace, wonder, of oneness with the All.
  In the stillness, the Ancients appear with a lazer of light to etch upon her shell.

They inscribe upon her back the wisdom of the ages,
  and send her forth to share the gift with all of humanity.
  To all corners of the earth, all of life, she carries the message.

She rests beneath still waters to glimpse the inscriptions
  in a reflection, and then swims on, for she is the messenger.
  She can not see, but fully comprehends, the wisdom she carries.

'Your life is a message,' Tortoise counsels me.
  'Allow the ancient wisdom to be inscribed upon you.
  'Let it emerge from your soul, then carry it for all to see.'

Like the Tortoise, we each have wisdom of the ages
  etched deeply upon our souls, visible to our mind's eye, 
  a universal code of love to guide our walk through this life.

We need only to become quiet, to look within, to trust
  that the wisdom resides within each of us, that the wisdom 
  is our heritage, our connection to All, the ultimate and eternal gift.

Miniature Assassin

I do have a fear.

In the shadow of the furor and fuss about the heart,
  grows a small but deadly plaque on the carotid artery.
  It resides at the base of the skull, inches from my brain.

I have not allowed myself to acknowledge the fear
  incited through my being by this miniature assassin.
  Even positive thinking can be used to hide from reality.

And, hiding is exactly what I have been doing of late.
  So, brutal honesty.  I am horrified by the possibility of
  having a debilitating stroke, losing my ability to cogitate.

My mind is my greatest strength.  From it flows my gift.
  This gift, my writing, requires a mind capable of discovering
  the perfect word to weave into the exquisite phrase, a thought.

Without my mind, I am a painter without a paintbrush.
  Without words to express that which cries for expression,
  I am as a songbird without a voice, a ballerina without legs.

I can imagine no greater assault to my being than to
  lose my mind, lose my gift, be forced to live robbed of
  the ability to think.

My mother almost died from a stroke during heart surgery.
  My father died from an aneurysm during a pre-heart surgery
  procedure.  My grandmother and grandfather died from strokes.

I have always known this was most likely to be my demise.
  I never imagined, however, that it could come at 54-years-old.
  I am so young.  I live a healthy life style.  I take care of my body.

So, what to say after acknowledging the fear in my heart?
  I shall not chide myself, nor shirk in shame at expressing fear.
  I shall stay with it, love it, allow and honor it.  I shall seek quiet.

And, I shall await the Divine grace upon which I rely for all.

The Eye of the Storm

The moment in which I felt death upon me
  catalyzed a collision of events, and introspection.

However, recently I entered a space of quiet.
  The gentle purr of my heart, the symptoms at bay...

'Perhaps,' I think, 'they misdiagnosed!'
  'Perhaps the heart is not, in fact, ailing!'

And then I smile at my ability for self delusion,
  but more so at what really might be happening.

My prayers have been about making 'it'
  to January, the date planned for the surgery.

A period of quiet in the storm is required
  to wait that long to bring healing to the heart.

And now, I find myself basking in that quiet!
  I am being given the time for which I prayed!

To fall into self delusion robs me the opportunity
  to revel in the grace of a prayer answered, and the
  exquisite nature of this moment, the eye of the storm.

Annali: My Hero

I did a training on leadership the other day.

  It started with John Wayne riding off into the sunset

  after, once again, single-handedly conquering the bad guys.

That powerful image has inflicted immeasurable 
  damage on the self-image of many, many people,
  robbing them from discovery of their inherent greatness.

Beleaguered with a diminished sense of self-efficacy, 
  they cower from expressing their own greatness, preferring
  instead to hide in the safety of self-deprecation and other-adulation. 

In this story, people are born to be common,
  some more so than others, young women for example.
  Life, it seems, conspires to keep them from shining their light.

This plight leads me directly to the topic of courage.
  To step outside what is expected of you, to reach beyond,
  to have the audacity to believe that you can be something more...

This requires courage, in the truest sense of the word.
  Because, you see, courage is not reaching for something that
  you know you can do, or that you have the wherewithal to accomplish.

Courage is stepping into the unknown, even when you feel
  ill-equipped to do so, and you aren't sure if you can be successful,
  and especially when you have struggled or failed in previous attempts.

True courage requires no small amount of faith and daring.
  It requires a willingness to fail a hundred times before you succeed.
  It requires humility in the face of the daunting challenge you have accepted.

There is a person whom I think of when I think of courage.
  That person is my daughter, Annali, a beautiful young woman
  who has suffered many blows in the pursuit of her vision for her life.

Despite the challenges and her past experiences, she has
  dared to step, once again, onto the path leading to her dream.
  She knows the journey isn't easy, but she is committed to it and to herself.

She takes the risk, knowing there will be failures and successes.
  She faces her own fears and history...and dares to walk past them.
  This, my friends, is courage personified, in the flesh, in real life, in action.

We don't know what lies ahead of us, or within ourselves.
  But, we are called to find our greatness, to dig deep and stretch
  to the stars to discover our greatness, and then to gift it back to life.

Look around you to find those with daring souls, like Annali.
  Know that they are human, beset by fears and quirks, just like you.
  Then, be inspired by their courage, and seek your own to live life with the

ALL of who you are.

You Are Your Father's Daughter

This was the weekend of my father's birth and passing,
  Many emotions emerged, some enigmatic and painful to
  unpack, all intricately woven into my relationship with him.

It started Friday in mediation with a deep-seated sorrow.
  I sat with the sorrow, explored its depth and expanse.
  In the quiet, I was shown its birth and life source.

The sorrow is my deep disappointment in myself.
  As I face my mortality, I am acutely aware
  that I never measured up.

My earliest memories include looking upon my father
  and seeing a hero.  I witnessed his impact on all who
  came into his presence, his incredible contribution to life.

And I wanted nothing more than to be like him.
  I wanted to create something that touched people's
  hearts and souls, and left an indelible mark in their lives.

I wanted to have people love and seek me out,
  just as they did him.  14 years after his passing,
  they still express their devotion to, and love of, him.

I wanted to grow wise and compassionate.
  I wanted my children to cherish my counsel.
  I wanted them to regard me as a wise mother.

My sorrow is born of my belief that to
  live a life of value means that
  I must be like my father.

Its source of nourishment has been the constant
  reminder that I am not like him, that I have always
  and continue to, fall short of the life he demonstrated.

In the abyss created by the possibility that few days remain,
  the long-standing fear that I do not measure-up quickened
  into trepidation that it could materialize and define my life.

Then, in the quiet of the candle light and my tears, I heard,
  'But you are not your father.  His journey was not to be yours.'
  The words, barely audible over the keening of my duress, lingered.

Two days later, driving my grandson home from our date,
  we listened to music from 'The Lion King'.  Deeply affected,
  I remembered a poem I wrote to honor my mother and father.

In the poem, I spoke of the footprint my father left in this life.
  I recounted how I accidentally stepped into that footprint
  and found myself swallowed up in its immensity.

So small was I in his shadow.

Years later, I still can't find my way out of that enormous footprint.
  And the quiet voice repeated, 'You are not your father.'
  'You were not meant to journey on his path.'

'While you mourn that for which you were never destined, 
  you miss the journey that is yours to walk in this life.'
  'You are your father's daughter.  Your life matters.'

'You have sown seeds of love.  There are those that love you.'
  'You have gifted to life and can as long as chi flows through you.'

My father is here with me now, as I face my mortality.
  He stands at my side, loving, kind, compassionate.
  He will walk the distance with me.

I am my father's daughter.
  I have value because of who I am.
  I still have time to contribute to life.
  I can love and gift and offer my heart.

So, I will.

Preparing to Contemplate My Mortality

This contemplation calls me, bids me into its grace.
  To ponder my mortality, to consider the transition...
  It weighs upon my heart, shadows my consciousness.

So, to it I come, not fully prepared, nor completely willing.
  
We all walk in the unspoken truth that our time here is finite.
  But so engaged are we in the passing of our days that this truth
  fades into the recesses of our souls awaiting its time... and our time.

It's not a bad thing, really.  We are here, on this plane, for a reason.
  To engage, to live fully, is the purpose, the blessing, the joy, the gift.
  We are invited to experience the rapture, the wonder, of this thing, life.
  
And, we are invited to face the inexorable truth that this walk is ephemeral.

A contemplative moment is upon me, precious yet daunting.  
  Spirit has graced me with the occasion to face my mortality,
  to come to terms with this ultimate reality, my ultimate reality.

But, I have been avoiding it, for to allow it is to face my demise.
  I am fully vested in this thing, being human, this life, my life.
  And really, I am a novice at dying, an apprentice, a rookie.

I have never before died, and only once have I felt it close.

Where to start, to end...how to get to this place of Spirit, 
  but through the morass that is my unfledged humanness.
  My father and mother taught me how to live and how to die.  

And while those priceless gifts are emblazoned upon my soul,
  I realize that this journey is one upon which only I can embark.
  The greatest gifts will come as I step foot upon this path, my path.