Rachel Naomi Remen: Three Different Ways of Seeing Life

Helping, fixing, and serving represent three different ways of seeing life. When you help, you see life as weak. when you fix, you see life as broken. When you serve, you see life as whole. Fixing and helping may be the work of the ego, and service the work of the soul.

― Rachel Naomi Remen

Thich Nhat Hanh: Embrace Suffering

"It's like a mother, when the baby is crying, she picks up the baby and she holds the baby tenderly in her arms. Your pain, your anxiety is your baby. You have to take care of it. You have to go back to yourself, recognize the suffering in you, embrace the suffering, and you get a relief." 

- Thich Nhat Hanh

♥

from Thich Nhat Hanh

The Four-Season Tree: A Christmas Letter

"The Four-Season Tree": a Christmas letter  by Br. David Steindl-Rast O.S.B.

Yes, the spirit of wonder is the road to joy.

+ Dear Friends,

This picture of "The Four-Season Tree” is a gift that my eight year old friend Pauli made for me. He wanted to thank me. He had wanted to see a monk’s cell, so, i showed him where i live. His grandma was not allowed inside the monastic enclosure. When she questioned him afterwards, the little imp replied: "That’s for men only!“ – but back to the picture.

The first quarter of the tree’s crown shows, as we’d expect, the blossoms of springtime; the leaves of summer in the second quarter are already turning red (time is flying), and in the third quarter autumn fruit is falling. It’s all quite predictable. But where we’d expect snow on the wintery branches we find a surprise: A child shining in golden light. (In Austria it’s not Santa Claus who brings the gifts but the Christ Child.) Thus, the year ends with this archetype of promise: the Child.

“The child wonders at the Christmas Tree:“says T. S. Eliot, and encourages the child in each of us: “Let him continue in the spirit of wonder.“

He calls his poem “The Cultivation of Christmas Trees“– cultivation, not in the sense of tending and pruning the trees in a nursery, but in the sense of enriching and enlarging our inner treasure of festive memories, year after year –

“So that before the end, the eightieth Christmas
(By “eightieth” meaning whichever is the last)
The accumulated memories of annual emotion
May be concentrated into a great joy.“

Cultivation of grateful wonderment, day by day, that is the way to this great joy at the end. Therefore my wish for each and all of us: May we never lose this sense of wonderment, our inner child’s spirit of wonder!

Is it not ever new cause for wonder that we exist? That there is anything at all, rather than nothing? How wonder-ful this present moment! How amazing the gift of opportunity it offers us! And if we miss this opportunity, the next moment offers us another one. Yes, the spirit of wonder is the road to joy.

“We are perishing for want of wonder, not for want of wonders,” says G. K. Chesterton. Those wonders are all around us. To the child’s eyes every tree is a wonder and the wonder of wonders can blossom forth in its branches, like the child with open arms in Pauli’s “Four-Season Tree.”

May we ourselves welcome the year to come with open arms. May each new day bring us full aliveness and great peace of heart! And in the end, may we be able to say with Mary Oliver: ”I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.” This is what I wish you at this season.

From all my heart,
Your brother David

- from http://www.gratefulness.org/readings/dsr_christmas_fourseasontree.htm

Brother David Steindl-Rast: Ever Deeper Roots in Love

 

Ever Deeper Roots in Love 

You, from whom we come
      And to whom we go,
      Unchanging love,
  You give us time for change and growth
      In this time of great change in my life,
  please, give me courage to change and grow
      and cheerfulness amidst growing-pain.
  Let me take ever deeper roots in love
  Make me faithful without clinging
  And let me remain faithful in letting go.
  Into your hands I lay my life
  And the lives of all whom I love.
      Amen.

-  Brother David Steindl-Rast

e.e. cummings: I Thank You God For Most This Amazing

I THANK YOU GOD FOR MOST THIS AMAZING

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

 

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

 

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

 

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

--e.e. cummings

Our Family At Christmas = Gratitude!

Alli, Ron, myself, Kevin, Matt, Marita, Brian, Kristin - we all surround Grandma Nan with smiles and love and celebration!

There is so much to celebrate! My gratitude list overflows. Mom is finally home, and home for good! Our family is healthy and strong. The capacity within myself, my marriage, my/our children to ride the waves of life's challenges grows stronger with each passing year as does our capacity to open and deepen our hearts.

My prayer, always, is that we may all open to the preciousness of our lives. Right along side all the messiness, tears, heartaches is this abundance of beauty, joy, love, blessing. May we all continue to expand in our experiences of opening to it all, this life we are each given. This is my daily prayer, my daily gratitude practice. 

Individually and collectively, our family has come so far. This has been my great life passion - to transform a legacy of generational tragedy and loss to one of healing, beauty, love. Miracles happen. Blessed be.

May we all be at peace. May our hearts remain open. May we know the beauty of our true nature. May we be healed.

With gratitude and love ~ Molly

Sharing cards, pictures, gifts with Mom/Grandma Nan

Every moment is priceless

Our excellent Christmas adventure continues at a Thai Restaurant

We all converge at Grandma Nan's apartment to shower Mom with gifts from the heart ♥

There is growing fun and happiness in the air!

Kristin and Marita hold up old family photographs we gift Grandma Nan with to create her wall of family photos in her new apartment. Among the treasures I found are these of my mother as a little girl and as an infant held by her mother. ♥

Ron and Mom at our home.

Grandkids Kevin & Kristin, Matt, Marita & Brian ♥

Ron & me at Brian and Marita's home, Christmas 2013.

A Sweet Lesson

This story, passed on by a friend, so touched my heart. Now, with my mother in the twilight of her life, and after walking this Earth myself for 62 years, my awareness continues to grow of what most deeply matters. Life is so precious, loving so priceless. For me, this is a story of "the sweet lesson on patience" and also the sweetness of life, love, and each moment we share in this sacred lifetime. May we all remember to open our hearts ever more deeply to presence, remembrance, and simple caring and compassion. We are all connected. We are all precious. 

Warmest blessings ~ Molly

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

 

A sweet lesson on patience.

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. 'Just a minute', answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940's movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.

'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. 'It's nothing', I told her.. 'I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.'

'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, 'Could you drive
through downtown?'

'It's not the shortest way,' I answered quickly..

'Oh, I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. 'I don't have any family left,' she continued in a soft voice..'The doctor says I don't have very long.' I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

'How much do I owe you?' She asked, reaching into her purse.

'Nothing,' I said

'You have to make a living,' she answered.

'There are other passengers,' I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.

'You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life..

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

from elderhelpers.org

TRUE LOVE (A Doctor's note) Must Read!!

TRUE LOVE 

 

It was approximately 8.30 a.m. on a busy morning when an elderly gentleman in his eighties arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He stated that he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9.00 a.m. I took his vital signs and had him take a seat. I knew it would take more than an hour before someone would to able to attend to him. I saw him check his watch anxi...ously for the time and decided to evaluate his wound since I was not busy with another patient. On examination, the wound was well healed. Hence, I talked to one of the doctors to get the supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound. We began to engage in a conversation while I was taking care of his wound. I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment later as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no and said that he needed to go to the nursing home to have breakfast with his wife. I inquired about her health. He told me that she had been in the nursing home for a while as she was a victim of Alzheimer's disease. I probed further and asked if she would be upset if he was slightly late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was and she had not been able to recognize him since five years ago. I asked him in surprise, "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?" He smiled as he patted my hand and said, "She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is." I had to hold back my tears as he left. I had goose bumps on my arm, and I thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life." True love is neither physical nor romantic. 

True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be. SHARE YOUR STORY.

 

- from Alzheimer's Team

Oriah Mountain Dreamer: The Invitation

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

By Oriah © Mountain Dream Theatering
from the book The Invitation