Habit

Monday Mornings don’t feel complete without time tapping away at my computer, screen-scribbling my thoughts in five hundred words or less.  This activity began as a tool for me to create repeatable behavior that would keep me writing on a regular basis. When longer projects are too lofty, wordsmithing finds a fun, first of the week outlet.  When time feels limited or the thought of “what to write about” is looming large I release to just one word and get started.  This blog was intended to form a habit of regular written expression.

The noun habit defined in several entries at dictionary.com.  I share the following six.
1.  an acquired behavior pattern regularly followed until it has become almost involuntary
2.  customary practice
3.  a particular practice, custom, or usage
4.  a dominant or regular disposition or tendency; prevailing character or quality
5.  addiction, especially to narcotics
6.  garb of a particular rank, profession, religious order, etc. such as a monk’s habit

I have the habit of eating breakfast.  I also have the habit of sighing audibly upon arriving in a living room littered with abandoned toys and books.  I have a habit of using food to fill empty spaces in my body that have nothing to do with my stomach or hunger.  I have the customary practice of arranging my clothing by color.  My behavior pattern includes brushing my teeth, regular trips to the library, daily vitamins and yoga. 

Humans are rightly apt to deem some behavior as a “good” or “bad” habit. Indeed habits can both benefit and harm us.  But even a noble custom, like a regular meditation practice, can become a problem if I choose to meditate during the time I have committed to pick my children up from school.  A glass of wine may be just the perfect thing to round out a meal but it can also become an addiction. 

Life is an opportunity for us to watch ourselves, to choose our habits and to let them go as we see necessary.  Habits shape our days.  Addiction and excessive aversion come to the human being so easily.  Only in wearing the habit of a self-watcher can we intentionally form and free ourselves from acquired behavior.  We can choose our customary practices and decide our actions.  We must look at ourselves with love and guide ourselves gently, starting whatever small changes we can muster in making habits that bring us joy, health, and balance. 

 

We are what we repeatedly do. 
Excellence, therefore, is not an act but a habit. 
                                        - Aristotle

 

Watch your thoughts, they become words.
Watch your words, they become actions.
Watch your actions, they become habit.
Watch your habits, they become character.
Watch your character, it becomes your destiny.
                                        - Lao Tzu

 

 

 

 

Mug

Few things offers simple, satisfying comfort like a warm mug of __________ (fill in the blank with whatever comes to mind).   Coffee.  Soup.  Cider.  Mulled wine.  Green tea.  Chili.  This morning for me it is black coffee, decaf for the good of my nervous system and the world at large as caffeine, unless in dire fatigue circumstances, makes me unpleasant to myself and others.  Insert memories of my inside head voice saying, “stop talking, stop talking, just stop,” and my inside body voice responding, “Can’t.”  Really, caffeine in my body is ruthless, unlike the merciful mug which proffers plainly a two-palm-sized gift to ourselves each time we fill it.  On this August morning I don’t think I have ever enjoyed an ebony swig more.  I am alone in the house early on Monday for the first time since May.  I raise my mug today to toast the first day of school.

 

Mug is a noun defined at dictionary.com as a drinking cup, usually cylindrical in shape, having a handle, and often of a heavy substance, as earthenware.  Also there is a slang noun form meaning the face or the mouth.

 

Many of my mugs are from garage sales and used stuff stores.  I feel an exquisite, thrifty thrill when my mug budget of fifty cents reaps some ceramic cast off that fits my fingers just fine as I wrap them through the handle and around the body of the cup.  Never mind the plates and spoons, a unique mug makes me swoon!  Seems silly, I admit, but it is a simple joy that keeps me from sorrow at the times I inevitably drop a mug or absentmindedly smash one into the side of the sink.  The original twelve matching tea cups with saucers received as wedding gifts thusly are reduced now to four - dainty and lovely and just what a bride should choose but failing to satisfy the weighty warmth of a sturdier stein.  Indeed my tea cups have never crossed over into mug territory.  Fine for a lovely table, luncheon, or dessert tray but never hoping to hold chili with cheese nor fat, fluffy marshmallows swimming in Godiva hot chocolate.  Never.

 

Today takes its place in a long line of soggy days.  I don’t mind.  Serendipitously the term to describe today’s air is muggy!  Quiet is all the more compelling in such weather, damp from recent rain and still with anticipation of more predicted thunderous precipitation.  More captivating also is my mug.  Mine alone for the first morning in months.  Silence.  Sipping.  Sitting in space that has been a bustle and acutely active for well-lived summer’s steamy stint but now slowed just for the moment.  The day holds much and will be busy in a matter of minutes, melding from languid linguistics to droves of to-do demands.  But in deep gratitude I find myself truly loving my matchless Monday mug.

 

 

Mommy Cup

mug resting in palms

sip light after offspring leave

what now can I hold

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Content

 

Recently I lived a morning in the library sipping an unexpectedly delicious smoothie brimming with a bounty of fruit, veggies, and seeds.  The room was a sacrosanct silent.  The white-light air offered a blessedly cool repose from the swelter of July outdoors.  I sat solo with my laptop surrounded by words wound in lines hunkered between hard covers standing as an attentive guard.  I was content.

At dictionary.com I find content can be
1.  an adjective meaning satisfied with what one is or has; not wanting more or anything else; mentally or emotionally satisfied with things as they are; willing to accept circumstances
2.  a noun meaning the state of feeling or being contented; satisfaction; peace of mind

I documented the moment in notes that sit on my desk today that indicate being so satisfied made me pause.  Granted, my library is magical.  It wins awards. It employs fairy godmothers of children’s literature that satisfy every topic wish.  It is a respite for writers seeking solitude like myself, city-dwelling homeless, and corporate board meeting planners alike.  We all appear to find peace of mind there, if our expressions are true.   But the library does not magically transport us away from our respective lives. 

I think I was surprised because nothing BIG was happening.  All was simple and everyday and wonderful and only planned to last an hour.  It is our natural state – peace of mind.  We arrive alive in it but then bury it in experiences.  Piling on of the past and furtive seeking of the future distract us from the one single present moment in which we can be content.  

Did I suggest our natural state is peace?  Yes.  Yes, I did. What about responsibilities and war and poverty and immorality and economic doom and deadlines and ethical governments and proper nutrition?  Is the idea of peace of mind, of being emotionally satisfied a ruse?  Right THIS moment I can only remember it as a feeling from that day because my monkey mind is swinging from thought tree to tree with this day’s duties plus the two interruptions per minute from life in my house!   

But I know moments of not wanting.  I can shut my eyes, look inward and appreciate on the inner level I have been there.  Being content is a practice, an intention, a habit. Being content does not distract from motivation or work or getting things done or improving one’s situation or allowing ourselves at times appropriate dissatisfaction.

I’ve struggled with giving myself permission to feel content. My mind wrestles with feeling that I do not deserve or am not good enough yet or that admitting contentment belittles life’s real difficulties.  Instead, we might all give ourselves consent to be content in little sacred moments that just may lead to longer ones.

When you are content to be simply yourself
and don’t compare or compete, everybody
will respect you. 
                                                - Lao Tzu 

Be content to seem what you really are. 
                                                - Marcus Aurelius

 

 

 

Work

Why should we keep our bodies and minds healthy and in balance?  So we can do our work.

 

I predict a widening of eyes at my assertion.  Reaction, perhaps, to the narrow meaning we attach to work.  Work may be finding a job, performing its requirements (happy about it or not), collecting your pay.  Work, indeed, might include this employment activity but is much more. 

Work, as a noun, is defined at dictionary.com.
1.  Exertion or effort to produce or accomplish something; labor; toil
2.  Something on which exertion or labor is expended; a task or undertaking
3.  Productive or operative activity
4.  Employment, as in some form of industry, especially as a means of earning one’s livelihood

Work’s dictionary definition says some of what I am thinking about.  It does not though touch on how we decide what our task or undertaking should be.  In yogic philosophy, meaningful work is guided by dharma.  Dharma is woven with threads of one’s own unique qualities, duty, vocation, morally upright behavior, the unique qualities of the universe.  Dharma is rooted in Truth.  One’s life purpose, of which our exertion to accomplish something is part, is ours to consider. 

Work evolves through ages and stages of life.  A baby’s work.  A monk’s work.  A parent’s work.  A housekeeper’s work.  An inventor’s work.  A chef’s work.  A doctor’s work.  A poet’s work.  An accountant’s work.  Productive activity abounds!  We might assume several roles at once.  There are tasks, sometimes seemingly menial like laundry or paperwork or budgets, we complete under the umbrella of our work that may not seem replete with deep meaning.  We might endure a so-so job as a stepping stone to something better or a means to afford different use of time otherwise.

Our dharma is active, energetic, and a source of happiness.  If we do NOTHING our Self knows.  Stillness is not necessarily doing nothing nor is constant toil always accomplishing something.  Internal stillness might look like relentless activity on the outside.  No one can say sitting still is inappropriate or that twelve hour workdays are inherently wrong either.  Every person’s work is different, theirs to determine and execute by looking inward daily. Self-study and quiet are essential to discover our work.

Work relates to our inherent value and our connectedness to one another.  Our Truth is unchanging, constant, eternal, and loving and does not modify to suit desires, aversions, prior conditioning or social pressure.  Meaningful activity helps us see our value.

I realize that higher levels of thought are easier when basic needs are met and that generally needs money.  Yet, I believe we can remember our dharma and follow it in work.  We might merely ask, “What is my work, and what tasks does it offer me today?” 

 

                                Nothing will work unless you do.
                                                                - Maya Angelou

                                Far and away the best prize that life
                                has to offer is the chance to work hard
                                at work worth doing.
                                                                - Theodore Roosevelt

 

 

 

Interdependence

My Fourth of July festivities as a kid occurred as a military musician’s daughter.  In my fond recollections they were a picnic, patriotic music and a laser show culminating with my dad directing the firing of canons for the 1812 Overture and a fireworks show.  The salty, sweat-scented memories are watermelon red, gun smoke white and uniform blue.  I was proud.  Of my dad.  Of my country. The Independence of America was imbedded with family celebration that included the community around us: friends and strangers, living and dead.  Together, all these people made my experience great.

Interdependence, a noun, is defined at dictionary.com as the quality or condition of being interdependent, or mutually reliant on each other.

The people who created the July 4^th event were connected from 1776 to present day.  In the 20^th century we sang along with the show, “I’m proud to be an American where at least I know I’m free.  And I won’t forget the men who died, who gave that right to me. I’ll gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today.”  Interdependence did not historically or presently detract from freedom.  Instead, I think it enriched/enriches it.  America’s forefathers fought so that we might have a more perfect union knowing independence is not free nor easily won but intended to allow a better life for the collective citizens of the new nation they envisioned and its posterity.

Interdependence is rooted in the truth of our human connectedness, the real and ever-present certainty that we thrive when we work, celebrate, mourn and rejoice together.  This requires that each individual bring to the table the best they have to offer, whatever it may be – the more varied the better! Independence should not be greedy, lazy, hateful nor narrow-minded, but passionate, purposeful and compassionate.

This connection of self to others in no way diminishes individuals nor undermines independence.  It acknowledges that many hands make light work or a band of skilled hunters often bring back more food than a lone huntsman or a circle of quilters make a warm bed faster than someone stitching solo or educating one person benefits all they contact and a single person’s prayers can produce change.   

To say a person should never endeavor alone is too extreme, the greatness of individual generals, single inventers, stunning orators, courageous writers bears merit.  But, in order for one to rise, there must be multitudes that bear arms under direction, accept new ideas, lend their ears, collect their voices to sing and shout.  We all count.  We all matter.  We all have duty to ourselves and to each other as independent but social creatures - people in a state of beneficial interdependence.

We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness. 
                                                                                - Thich Nhat Hanh

The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness
of the interdependence of all theses living beings which are all
part of one another and all involved in one another.
                                                                                - Thomas Merton

 

 

 

Flexible

Occasionally when folks discover I teach yoga they state, “I’d love to try yoga, but I am not flexible.”  I assert that my gentle yoga classes do not require flexibility and can increase it over time.  Bridled with fear of how far away they perceive their toes to be, some seem to believe being flexible is a thing one is born with or not.  

 

Flexible (adjective) is defined at dictionary.com.
1.  capable of being bent, usually without breaking; easily bent
2.  susceptive of modification or adaptation; adaptable
3.  willing or disposed to yield; pliable

I get it, really.  I myself do not possess copious in-born elasticity.  Pictures of pretzel poses performed in second skin outfits can scare us away from our bodies. My history does not include personal fitness, sports or being a dancer or gymnast.  Yoga arrived first in spiritual devotion (bhakti yoga) and knowledge seeking (jnana yoga).  Still searching, I began to practice yoga postures in a class where, over time, I connected all the stuff in my head and my heart to my body.   As a dedicated couch potato it had never dawned on me that I could find joy - yes, joy - in physical training. 

 

What a revelation! Acknowledging all bodies, just like personalities, are different and a wide range of natural available movement exists from one person to another, as embodied beings (like all humans, we have a body) moving, stretching and strengthening increases wellbeing.  I lapped this up like a cat at a saucer of cream.

 

My hamstrings and heartstrings cooperate in tandem because I tend them, coax them kindly, and deliver to them challenge and rest.  All yoga poses may not be available to every body.  So what?  While we are embodied, we are NOT merely our bodies and certainly not the bodies of others.  Being flexible is much more than arching into a backbend.  Yet, let me be clear in my expression, increasing physical flexibility helps us learn about mental flexibility in our daily living.  How important is it to be capable of being bent, without breaking, as we control our reactions to life’s circumstances or other people’s actions? How beneficial is it to our relationships to be disposed to yield in shared spaces, not as pushovers but as strong, adaptable selves?  Over time, bending toward our toes or leaning our bodies deeply right and left gives us physical manifestations of effort that can create habits we take into everyday living.

 

Being flexible feels like something we want, it’s the “over time” part that gives pause. We deceive ourselves if we wait for flexibility to preclude effort in our bodies or our minds.  We become pliable through intention to be so and we rob ourselves if we reason being flexible physically or emotionally does not require practice.  

 

 

                                                A tree that cannot bend will crack in the wind.
                                                                                                          - Lao Tzu

Be ready, be flexible, be poised to respond
when the time is right.
                                                         - Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

 

                                               

Whoosh

A substantial amount of human energy seems spent lamenting what has passed, fretting over what may come, and tap dancing around what is at the present.  This chaotic choreography of life is brought into balance for me with yoga.  In yoga’s sequenced movement matched to controlled in and out breaths resides respite from the fast feel and weight of life’s momentum and magnitude.  Practice on my mat carries over to daily life allowing time to pass more mindfully, difficulties to be persevered in patience, work to be balanced with rest.  

Even amid attentive acceptance of time I am astounded that the month of May and the first part of June went by for me in an activity avalanche that feels like a bleary-eyed blink. Whoosh, it is summer.  Whoosh, 2013 is reaching its midpoint.  Whoosh, my first baby is as tall as I am.  Whoosh, breakfast blended to bedtime day after increasingly hot day.   

Whoosh defined as a noun means a sudden movement accompanied by a rushing sound.  Whoosh as a verb means to move or cause to move quickly or suddenly with a rushing sound.

Whoosh – a thing and an action, movement and sound, a feeling I recognize as adrenaline in my body every time Superman plants his feet, flexes his knees and shoots up into the sky.  With that sensation, I become aware of a two-sided sense of whoosh, one that makes me feel akin to a superhero: strong, reliable, and kicking butt.  The flip side feels like a kid at the start line of a race not sure where to stand so that when the gun goes off she’s left twirling like a tiny tornado as everyone else shoots off the starting block and sets to running.  Whoosh! 

When we feel lost with no sense of where to begin we might consider how to feel as superheroes, albeit likely lacking in otherworldly powers and steel flesh, and connect to our abilities.  We possess the ability to commit to our duties, love unconditionally, increase our personal integrity, make and manage our mistakes, find and direct our personal power, feel our way with facts and faith, to breathe. 

I work to accept that life’s whoosh won’t stop, but the whirling post-whoosh spin response can.  Reframing whoosh as an exultant exhale we might honor ourselves as regular folks getting super stuff done.  And on those days when we are left spinning, twisted like a top pinched in the fingers of unfettered circumstances, the whoosh can still be our breath as an amazing inhale filling us and drawing our attention inward where we start all activities in acknowledgment of ourselves as we are in each moment. We can only begin where we are, wherever that may be and with whatever way we arrived there.  Where we go – whoosh – is our daily work.  

                                    Suddenly

who o sh(e)

born as me

super light see

matter mindfully

breathe energy

simply to be

who o sh(e)

Reward

A sore shoulder declared my purse too heavy and mandated a pocketbook purge.  I dumped the handbag’s contents in a heap. The site of a bulging wallet among the miscellany was unexpected because it strained with effort against snaps ready to release their duty of holding two flaps of brown leather together.  I wondered, could there be cash I don’t know about? Alas, no, it was a collection of membership reward cards accumulated beyond capacity. 

 

Reward is defined at dictionary.com.
1.  a sum of money offered for the detection or capture of a criminal, the recovery of lost or stolen property, etc.
2.  something given in return or recompense for service, merit, hardship, etc.

 

I accept the marketing prowess behind reward cards.  I am not pointing a disapproving finger at having them.  I think a savvy shopper rightly reaps benefits from regular purchases, accumulating perks for products.  But I worry that reward may lessen the gratification of an item bought and further encourage us to be rampant consumers.  I myself read coupons at the bottom of a receipt which oblige I shop with my reward card and then maybe decide I require different hair products or a teeth whitening regimen or a double scoop sundae when just a moment before I had no inclination of need.  

I am not suggesting that shopping at a specific store because they reward us is wrong, but that we might consider if we are drawn to buy more than we might otherwise.  Mindlessly purchasing products only to save $2 or reach preferred customer status or get free fries might not benefit us.  Do I need a reward for everything I buy, every place I visit, every treat I eat?  Am I letting myself be trained like a puppy to perform certain tricks for a treat?  Without care, we might lose sight of our current actions with our eyes on a future prize instead.  Moving our attention from present actions to future recompense takes us away from the moment where we might find pleasure or joy in what is now. 

When I flipped through my cards, many were for stores I have not been in for ages.  Over time, I always answered affirmatively about accepting any and every reward membership.  They wanna give me something for being a customer?  Oh yeah!  Faced with the physical sight of having said yes to so many cards in hopes of the promise of reward surprised me because I had used my wallet daily without seeing.  The cards were not bearing the large part of excess weight of my purse, but trashing most of them so that my wallet was not pulling at the seams was the perfect start to the tossing of other, weightier junk that cluttered my purse. 

The reward of a thing well done is having done it.
                                                - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Infinite striving to be his best is man’s duty; it is
its own reward.  Everything else is in God’s hands.
                                  - Mahatma Gandhi

 

Afraid

I recently supported Cassie Premo Steele’s Facebook co-created poetry Kickstarter (http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/747692735/co-create-the-wordy-wednesday-poem-book?ref=live).  As a result I was entered into a drawing and subsequently won a copy of Sheryl Sandberg’s new book Lean In.  I’d pIanned to read it in one weekend flurry over Easter break but spent that time fighting fever and skipping coloring eggs instead.  The week off school that followed was filled with health recoup and kid time.  Today I am a measly 26 pages into the book.  Nonetheless I have arrived at something to contemplate:  a poster described as present in the Facebook office where Sandberg works that reads “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

 

Afraid is defined at dictionary.com.
1.  feeling fear; filled with apprehension:  afraid to go.
2.  feeling regret, unhappiness, or the like:  I’m afraid we can’t go on Monday.
3.  feeling reluctance, unwillingness, distaste, or the like:  He seemed afraid to show his children kindness.

 

Sheryl shares on p.26 of Lean In that “Writing this book is what I would do if I weren’t afraid.”  This strikes me as a great example of how reading over and over a written statement intentionally placed in your path affects your actions. 

 

I am afraid of the question!   Afraid of the answers.  Believing a small bit of fear might just keep us safe, as in not stepping too close to a cliff or driving a car recklessly.  But I equally hold true that fear can keep us so far from the cliff we miss the view or never learn to drive at all.

 

What are we afraid of?  Being judged by others as odd or a failure or underachieving or bossy or foolish?  Of being without enough money to live comfortable?  Of alienating someone?  Of revealing our truth?  Of hurting someone’s feelings?  Of regret?  Of screwing up?  Of rocking a basically steady boat that is, well, okay if not fabulous?  We’re afraid of the unknown, but isn’t it ALL unknown?

 

What would I do if I weren’t afraid?  I don’t seem to have a clear answer today.  For starters, I’m going to read the question every day, “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”  That does scare me a bit because, perhaps as in Sandberg’s daily exposure to written query, I might come across a specific task, a spark, an idea.  As I ponder I must also wonder though what practices can we conquer our fears?  Faith.  Meditation.  Daily experience.  Absorbing inspiring works of scripture, poetry, non-fiction, and biography.  Seeking wise leaders and listening.  Listening.

 

                                                I learned that courage was not the absence
                                                of fear, but the triumph over it.  The brave
                                                man is not he who does not feel afraid, but
                                                he who conquers that fear.
                                                                                                - Nelson Mandela

 

                                                We can easily forgive a child who is afraid
                                                of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when
                                                mean are afraid of the light.
                                                                                                - Plato

 

 

Birthday

Tomorrow is my birthday.  I get to say to myself, “You were born!  Hooray!  Have some apple pie (I’m planning such in lieu of cake this year).”  I’m pleased at having arrived at this age in my life.  I observe it no small feat for us humans to count each birthday in turn as we chug and chug like Little Engines that Could through life.  Think of all the collective cakes we’ve eaten and wishes we’ve made! 

 

Birthday is defined at dictionary.com as the anniversary of a birth, the day of a person’s birth, a day marking or commemorating the origin or beginning of something, and the festivities or celebration marking such a day or anniversary. 

 

Here’s my ultimate surprise birthday gift:  my current number of forty-four life years feels comfortable like a pair of jeans that really fits, soft after repeated washing and wearing.  Is it the actual age at which I have arrived that creates this feeling?  Likely not as each of us travels a different path and pace, but I do think there is something altering about crossing the four decade threshold – aside from ads for my demographic proffering wrinkle repair, gray hair coverage, digestive regulation, tummy control clothing, frugal family vacation spots and kid-friendly cooking shortcuts that is. 

 

On the eve of my birthday I reside in the fruition of many things.  High School.  College.  Work.  More college.  Different work.  Marriage.  Different work.  Home ownership.  Pregnancy.  Pregnancy.  Pregnancy.  Motherhood.  Still more different work.  

 

While this seemingly static current time sometimes makes me self-assert that I need some goals, I placate my ego by telling it that there is so much value in BEING as opposed to more DOING.  Although I am doing plenty, this time in my life feels not so much like pursuing but percolating.   There is ample in motion as I tug the wagon of my experiences across the field of each day enjoying the hum of my life engine, trusting there will be sustenance and rest, watching the seeds of my thoughts, words, and actions sprout.  I’m content to be in my spot of the world, however plain it might be and however slow I appear in it.  Some habits have settled into a comfortable rhythm.  I’m learning and unlearning.  I’m embracing chaos and creating quiet.  I’m striving to work gracefully. 

 

I often ponder around my birthday this crazy, pain in the neck, heart-stretching, heart-mending, wacky, body limited, unpredictable, love-filled, emotional, intentional, expanding opportunity to learn: life.  Do we really have any idea how awesome it is to be born?  Whatever the ups and downs, perhaps we might all agree birth is miraculous.  When I blow out my birthday candles tomorrow I'll wish for us all to feel the miracle.  

 

                                Pleas’d look forward, pleas’d to look behind,
                                and count each birthday with a grateful mind.
                                                                                - Alexander Pope 

 

 

    

Feet

A few years back I began a ritual.  After reading Thich Nhat Hanh’s The Miracle of Mindfulness, I wanted to create practices that reflected mindful action. I decided on my feet.  Each morning I bring both feet together as I sit up from sleep, then plant them side by side - both soles at the same time - on the floor beside my bed.   For one inhale and exhale, I look at my ten toes together and then rise to standing being aware of the muscles and sensations as my ambulatory appendages set me out on my first step of the day.

 

The noun feet is defined as a plural of foot, which offers nothing of information.  Thereby I list the definition of foot found also at dictionary.com.
1.  (in vertebrates) the terminal part of the leg, below the ankle joint, on which the body stands and moves.
2.  (in invertebrates) any part similar in position or function.
3.  such a part considered as the organ of locomotion.

 

On Easter, my dawn habit slowed me even more.  At this time in my neck of the woods, the air is full of multiple expressions of seasonal and doctrinal reality proclaiming light arising from the darkness, life springing forth from the death of cold ground, singing and celebrating imbued with the fragrance of lilies and the promise of budding trees. 

 

Imagine your day’s first standing scenario as if rising from the dead not just from a night’s sleep.  Two feet that were still and listless, perhaps chilled, planting on the ground and finding steadiness walking into the day motivated by breath:  Get up.  Wake up.  New life.  Get going.  Feel you’re awakening mindfully and with awe. 

 

Bearing the weight of legs and body, guts and brains, our pair of peds perform much important work just by holding us up.  How awesome is it that we can stand up from sleep?  Feet may still be tired, feasibly achy from the previous day’s path, perhaps injured by a crucifixion?  In need of some TLC?  Unsure and perhaps slightly unsteady?  Aged and changed with time?  Marked with memories of races run, pregnancies puffed through, glass stepped on, shoes submitted to or never afforded?  Nonetheless purposefully poised to stride into the day as it is.    

 

I sincerely hope these men would be flattered and amused by their presence together, two thoughts joining mine about feet.

 

You have brains in your head.  You have feet in your shoes. 
You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.  You’re
on your own, and you know what you know.  And you are
the guy who’ll decided where you go. 
                                                                             –Dr. Seuss

By reading the scriptures I am so renewed that all nature
seems renewed around me and with me.  The sky seems
to be a pure, a cooler blue, the trees and deeper green. 
The whole world is charged with the glory of God and I feel
fire and music under my feet. 
                                                                            –Thomas Merton