How do I see the world

What way do I behold the world?” Do we see the world through fearful eyes, where everything and every person is perceived as a threat? Do we see the world through greedy eyes, where everything can be possessed at a certain price? Do we see the world through judgmental eyes, where everything and every person is rigidly defined and limited by our prejudices and preconceptions? Do we see the world through resentful eyes, elevating our own entitlements while condemning others for theirs? Do we see the world through indifferent eyes, where our capacity for compassion is trumped by cynicism and despair? Do we see the world through inferior eyes, where everyone is perceived as superior to ourselves? Or can we remove the lens of fear, the lens of greed, the lens of prejudgment, the lens of resentment, the lens of indifference, the lens of inferiority — and then begin to see the world through eyes of love? Can we ever accept St. Augustine’s profound but simple advice: “Love and do what you will.”

John O’Donohoe, Anam Chara

A wish for this …and every…. day

 

May all beings be happy.
May they be joyous and live in safety.
All living beings, whether weak or strong, in high or middle, or low realms of existence, small or great, visible or invisible, near or far, born or to be born,
May all beings be happy.
Let none deceive another nor despise any being in any state; let none
by anger or hatred wish harm to another.

Even as a mother at the risk of her life watches over and protects her only child, so with a boundless mind should
one cherish all living things, suffusing love over the entire
world, above, below, and all around without limit;
so let each cultivate an infinite goodwill toward the whole world.

Buddha, the Metta (Loving-Kindness) Sutra

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

As they are

The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them. 

Thomas Merton, No Man is an Island

Living life fully

Today is Valentines day, normally celebrated with a special meal and even chocolates. It is also Ash Wednesday in the Christian tradition, a day of fasting, the start of Lent – a season of simplification. They seem quite opposed as celebrations.

However, both are reminders that our lives are short,  and that we should live them with passion and to the fullest, appreciating, and celebrating fully, beauty as it appears in each day  .

In the school of mind

you learn a lot,

And become a true scholar for many to look up to.

In the school of love

you become a child

to learn again

Abu-Said Abil-Kheir, Sufi Poet, 967 – 1049