Every moment is an opportunity to come home…
Make an island of yourself,
make yourself your refuge;
there is no other refuge.
Digha Nikaya, 16
Tag: Joy
Embrace
Today try taking some time to explore the possibility of sitting with yourself as if you were your own best friend.
Dwelling in the awareness of the breath, allowing thoughts and feelings to come and go, experiment with the possibility of embracing yourself as you would embrace another person who is dear to you and needs to be held.
Saki Santorelli
Giving attention
We continually move in and out of wholeness and fragmentation, in and out of clarity and confusion, and in and out of a largeness of heart and smallness of mind. When whole and clear and large of heart, we seem to be carried along, part of something larger. When fragmented and confused and small of mind, we seem to be tossed about, lost in ways we don’t quite understand. And so we continually search for tools that will free us to be lifted by life’s currents and not battered by them.
One such tool is a frame of mind, an attitude by which we meet the world: it has to do with whether we are giving attention or getting attention. Giving attention steers us back to center, Giving attention is connective. On the other hand, getting attention is a form of drifting from center. If attention comes your way, well, enjoy, but cultivating and seeking it is paddling away from center. Getting attention is deceptively isolating. It ultimately leads to being seen but not held.
Mark Nepo.
What to do when feeling overwhelmed
Sometimes I feel overwhelmed. But I try to work one day at a time. If we just worry about the big picture, we are powerless. So my secret is to start right away doing whatever little work I can do. I try to give joy to one person in the morning, and remove the suffering of one person in the afternoon. That’s enough.
When you see you can do that, you continue, and you give two little joys, and you remove two little sufferings, then three, and then four. If you and your friends do not despise the small work, a million people will remove a lot of suffering. That is the secret. Start right now.
Sister Chân Không
Making space to see
An American poet, for the day that is in it…
I’ll just
tell you this:
only if there are angels in your head will you
ever, possibly, see one.
Mary Oliver
When routine blinds us
From one of my favourite writers…
Yesterday morning I was going through the routine. I was by the door, and since I knew that it would take the little angel some time to get into the car, I told her to get a head start. I pushed the button to open the door of the minivan, and went back to get the other kids pushed out of the house. By the time I came back outside, my little girl was in the car, in her booster seat.
In one smooth motion, I jumped in, slammed the door, buckled myself in, and was ready for the … driving routine to school. When I looked back in the rear view mirror, I saw my little girl in tears.
Slammed on the break. “Honey, what is wrong?” The sweet girl mentioned, “You didn’t notice it.”
My mind is racing. “Didn’t notice what, my love?”
She softly repeated, “You didn’t notice it.”
My mind is racing more, “I just want to want to get you all to the school before you are more late. You are in the car. I am in the car. We are all in the car. Do we really need to talk about this now?”
I park the car. I turn around, and face her fully, “Jan-am (“my soul”), what did I not notice?” She softly answered: “The door.”
I came out of the car, and circled the car. I didn’t see anything. No dents, no scratches. I looked at her beautiful brown eyes, and she softly repeated, but with a smile this time: “Your door.”
So I went over to my own door, the same one that I had slammed in my rush. And there it was.
The door, in fact the whole car, was covered in morning dew. And then, written onto the morning dew, in the handwriting that can only come from the fingers of a beautiful little girl filled with love, were the three most magical, most powerful words of all:
I love you
Under the sentence was a picture she had drawn into the morning dew of herself, a beautiful smiling girl, with the most magical long hair.
There is love, and it is real. I am loved. She wanted me to know that in the midst of all this chaos, I am loved.
Sometimes it is written in dew. It is here for a few minutes, and then gone. The love behind it lingers, onto eternity. So often I’ve been told to stop and smell the roses. If only. Roses linger for a while. They start out in a perfect little bud, slowly slowly opening, into that perfect form, before wilting while scattering every last bit of their scent. Sometimes their essence is preserved and lingers. There is a beauty, profound beauty there in the rose. But sometimes beauty is written in the morning dew. It is a beauty that you have to be present to, A beauty to witness A beauty to welcome.
It is as transient as a smile on the face of a child who wants to know if her Baba is paying attention.
May angel, May I always be present Fully
To catch your love poems
Written in dew.
Omid Safi, Love Written in Morning Dew
Mindfulbalance 