Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts

Thursday, March 12, 2009

A Garden of Delight


Today I finally worked through an issue and let go of a lingering pain. The story is that a certain someone, a significant person in my life, some time ago made a hurtful statement as to the substance of my life. I took it to heart and fed on the anger resulting from the fear that there was an element of truth to the statement. I was energized by the anger, which helped me take some actions I needed to take at the time, but the anger has long ago dissipated and I was left with this sort of wearisome and obstructing billboard in my mind where I had pasted up the words of degradation in bold print. Today I stripped the billboard, tore it down, marked off a garden plot and created an affirmation of my choosing, "My life is a garden of delight."

I already have fertilizer, so it won't be long before I'll be ready to plant.

image from outsider-artists.net

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Wild Strawberries

Here's a parable that inspires me. It's a reminder to be aware of the joy in the moment.

A traveler was walking along life's path when a tiger began chasing her. She ran, but found herself blocked at the edge of a cliff, the tiger on one side and the cliff on the other. As her mind raced to decide which direction to go the ground gave out from under her and she began to fall. She reached out and grabbed a root that protruded from the cliff face and she hung on for dear life with both hands, only to find that within a matter of seconds the root began to give way. The tiger snarled above her; jagged rocks threatened below her. At that moment she spied a clump of wild strawberries ripening on the side of the cliff near her hand. Her mind calmed and fear left her. She reached out with one hand, picked them and ate them, savoring their sweetness and flavor.

Moral: Let go of the fear so you can grab the joy.

Today, Lord, let me see the wild strawberries and gobble them up. Let me taste the sweetness of life. Let me experience gratitude in the here and now. Let me remember that NO MATTER WHAT you hold me in the palm of your hand.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Luck


Here is another story that has helped me detach and not judge the events of my life.

A man owned a beautiful stallion and his neighbors often remarked on how lucky he was to own such a fine horse.

To this he replied, "Maybe, maybe not," and he went about his business.

One day the stallion broke out and ran away. His neighbors came by and remarked on how unlucky he was that he had lost the fine horse.

To this he replied, "Maybe, maybe not," and he went about his business.

A few weeks later the stallion returned leading a small herd of wild mares. The man corralled them and his neighbors came by and remarked on how lucky he was that fate had bestowed upon him such a find herd of horses.

"Maybe, maybe not."

He went about the business of breaking the horses along with his only son. His son was thrown by one of the wild horses while he was breaking it to ride. The fall broke his thigh. Of course, the neighbors expressed their opinions about how unlucky the man was that this series of events had resulted in his son's injury.

"Maybe, maybe not," was the man's only reply and he continued breaking the horses by himself while his son recuperated.

Before his son's broken bone healed, war broke out in the country and when all the able-bodied young men were conscripted to serve in the military the son was passed over by the draft because of his injury. Now, the neighbors came by and said, "You are so lucky your son does not have to serve in this unjust and futile war."

"Maybe, maybe not,"

free background image from art.blogspot.com

Friday, February 20, 2009

The Raft

I heard a story recently about a traveler who built a raft to cross a raging river on her journey through life. She reached the other side successfully. Thinking she might need the raft again, she kept it and ended up carrying it for the rest of her life.

This is what we humans do. During times of tests or danger we build habits or ways of thinking that protect or sustain us. Then, we keep these long past the time of their usefulness. During times of high stress we may try to use these old ways when it is new ways that are needed.

It is the same with material possessions. We need, or at least think we need, certain items during particular times or for particular uses in our lives. Then, we may keep them long past the time of their usefulness. They weigh us down and hamper our development and mobility.

I have resisted materialism all my life, only to find it has crept in quietly and infected my life. As for any malady, there is a healing that needs to take place. I think, now, that materialism is just as insidious as racism and the healing starts with scrubbing out the old wound.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Threads

I feel like I'm picking up the threads of my life and beginning again. Maybe this blog is helping me find a pattern. I want to stick to my original purpose. It is a part of my creative process to move within a structure.

It seems I prefer to post about twice a week. So, today I'm making a commitment to myself to do that. It's just a loose commitment, just a pattern to keep me going. (I think of this fabric I'm weaving as gauze-like, floating on the breeze.) I've used writing in that way in my life before. I've gone through periods of time where I've written stories. I like to collect stories that inspire me, too. I try to commit them to memory so I can retell them, though I'm not very good at it. They are my souvenirs of life.

I've written quite a lot of poetry, probably enough to fill a comfortable sized volume. Sometimes I think of compiling it. Would it be simply for my own self expression?

Friday, January 23, 2009

The Hand

It was two summers ago, a few days before I met the man that would become my husband, that I was privileged to hear a story which helped me more clearly understand some things about right relationships. I had gone to a campgrounds with a particular question in my mind and thinking that while I was there I'd be around somebody who would know about the pertinent subject and would be able to answer my question. The question was about an aspect of Native American spiritual teachings. There was a woman there, with whom I was acquainted, who was Indian, Cherokee, I think, so I waited for an appropriate moment and posed the question. She readily answered, and then hung back to leisurely finish breakfast at the table where I sat. When the other campers had left the table she told me she wanted to speak to me about something. She spoke about the maturation of my daughter into a young woman. We engaged in thoughtful conversation. She stressed that I am my daughter's primary teacher concerning womanhood. Then, her eyes became very focused and she said she felt the need to warn me about a spiritual danger that I faced in my own life.

She began to speak of a danger and two or three times asked me, "Do you understand?" as she attempted to make her points.

To this, I repeatedly replied, "No, I don't understand."

She appeared frustrated with our attempt to communicate, but I looked into her eyes and admitted, "I don't understand what you're talking about."

At this, she became quiet and took another approach. Her countenance changed and I felt she revealed herself to me as she would have within her own culture. Her face softened and she resumed speaking with a strong, quiet voice. She began to gesture with her hands as she told me a story that I will try to retell as I remember it.

She held out her hand and gestured over it, stating, "This is your life."

Then, she said, "I will tell you about the people who are safe to be in your life. This is what brings you power"

She brought together her fingertips and pressed them into the palm of the outstretched hand. "This is your family," she said, explaining to me that as many people could be in my family as I was able to hold and that the choice of who I hold in my family is mine alone.

"You can hold many people in the palm of your hand."

She talked about blood family: mother, father, brothers, sisters, grandparents, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, children, grandchildren, and cousins. She went on to state that we take non-related people into our family, but that the relationships are the same, that it must be this way. Three people walked by who paused to greet her with hugs and affectionate words. When they moved on, she told me these were such people to her. The husband was her brother, the wife was her sister, and the child was a niece, though they were not blood relatives.

Then, she touched her four fingers and told me that these are special women friends, that there are four positions, and that if these positions are filled with the right friends this will give me strength. She said these people may come and go in my life for many different reasons and that I must be able to adjust and find others to fill the positions. She told me that there is only room for four of this kind of friend and that a woman needs all four of such female friends to develop her potential. They are companions on the spiritual journey and they each have a time and a purpose for traveling with me.

"There are no men in these positions."

She grasped her thumb, deep into the base.

"This is your man. There is only one. See how the thumb joins into the hand and how important it is? The hand is very limited without the thumb."

"When the thumb is severed from the hand there is a big injury. This represents your life. You have had a big injury, but there is a big healing possible and another man can come into your life. There is only one and he will be joined to you as the thumb is joined to the hand."

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."