unhappy

Promises of the Day

Whenever I paint something: the walls of a room, a piece of furniture, an oil painting – I really look forward to seeing it again when it is dry. It’s like God, time, something unseen needs to intervene to finish it.

It’s not done until it’s really all done.

The same with gluing something together – next day, all those pieces are one whole thing again. The same with waiting for the scrapbook page to dry or waiting for pottery to bake.

Now, some people would rather wait for some muffins to bake far more than some pottery to bake. I understand this well.

Words on the Tip of Your Tongue

What words are on the tip of your tongue?

Core words you typically talk with and think with?

I sometimes pause and consider this. Consciously moving what I say to something softer and brighter.

As best I can, I use the wonder words “please” and “thank you.”

Instead of “Stop shouting,” I say, “Please stop shouting.” It isn’t just a nicety, but rather energetically shifts the tone from a command to a request.

It’s interesting. How can I use words each day like: better, kinder, sincere, conscious, aware?

Come to the Lake of Calm

Come to the lake of calm. It sits there open to you.

You will not find it in travel books, nor upon any map ever made.

Because you do not “go there,” but rather “tune-in,” like dialing a radio station.

Many of us keep this place ready for you. Holding a space of pure peace.

Thousands, if not tens of thousands, if not far more, offer this collective vision. We pour out thought-power, our peaceful energy, our imagination into this “place,” this little realm, if you want to call it that.

We combine our thought focus to offer this.

Stone Oven Muffin

I sincerely thank whoever discovered the muffin.

There is something really irresistible about a muffin – all kinds of muffins.

Others may love their croissant, but I love my muffin.

Right away, I think of muffins wrapped in red and white checked gingham in a honey-colored wicker basket. I think of New England or charming European villages with fresh baked breads. I think of the open hearth, with a log fire, at the center of a home.

It’s so primal – food – eating – our daily bread.

New Earth - I Choose My Reality

Sometimes knowing you have a choice isn’t obvious. Sort of, “What, I can choose?”

I do not read the newspapers, nor watch the news.

I choose my reality.

I sometimes imagine myself in a place of turmoil like Jerusalem. I stand there, eyes closed, with ripples of “illumination” going out from me, as if a pebble were tossed in a pond. Every second, going out hundreds of miles.

Then, at the same time, I picture myself in the center of China, doing the same.

I Saw an Angel

I saw an angel. Actually, I saw one, then a second, and then a third. The first was a young adult about 14 years old. The angel wore a white gown or robe. It looked like linen.

Upon the robe was exquisite and unusual golden trim and gold embroidery. It seemed as though the gold was alive, as if it were the energy identity and the “life” of the angel – its core essence.

The gold “writing” sparkled, too. The angel moved but was completely silent. It had no wings.

The Creaking Floor

I love floors that creak. There’s a power, a personality to it, as if the floor acknowledges me there, greets me, in a way. The house feels homey and lived in, in some sense imprinted.

Old houses have creaky floors and stairs, for sure. It’s not clear if it’s the personality of the people who lived there coming through or the personality of the home itself. But, to me, it always seems inviting and cozy.

It makes me mindful of the moment, more fully present with more of my senses focused here and now.

I also love doors that creak and drawers that squeak.

Roses

Every year we like to visit the rose gardens at Boothe Park in Stratford, Connecticut. Even from several feet away, one can smell the beautiful and pungent scent of the various types of roses. Once inside the garden, one can see all the different sizes, shapes, and types of roses - more than seem possible.

It is like a Wonderland of Flowers. Some are red, some are pink, some are yellow, some white, some purple, some orange, and some are even multicolored. Inevitably, some are buds, while others are partly bloomed, and still others are in full bloom.

Being a Volunteer

I am so happy
When I watch a video or read
a story
Of animals being rescued
My heart is stretched
As my eyes fill with tears
But I am in awe of how
Others step in to help
As they figure out a way
To lend a hand with these wonderful animals
That are here a part of creation
I thank the volunteers
Who take their time
Those who give funding
The generosity of others
Who don’t turn away but
Move towards being part of the solution
If only all will find it in our hearts

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