
When the sea is the roughest,
I go even slower,
allowing the turbulence to inform.
I do not tighten or resist.
I find the entry point
to the calmest opening.
I seek just one, small space
in which to access trust…
in me…
and the wave.

When the sea is the roughest,
I go even slower,
allowing the turbulence to inform.
I do not tighten or resist.
I find the entry point
to the calmest opening.
I seek just one, small space
in which to access trust…
in me…
and the wave.

When I am afraid, I just need to pause.
When I am tired, I just need to soften.
When in doubt, I open my hands and stretch my fingers to let go of the burdens I am carrying.
It’s time to release the bags full of insecurity, judgment, and uncertainty,
to relieve that heavy weight off my shoulders,
unlock my hips, knees and feet
and walk confidently into the less than clear,
the less than perfect,
the unknown.
I will be patient with myself and with others.
In that patience I will grow confidence.
I will seek compassionate words that promote truth to foster ease, healing, and happiness in myself and others.
I will not need approval,
and in fact,
I will revel in my stumbling.
I will cultivate pauses to inquire,
and to see the unknown
not as daunting,
but as freeing.
The only thing I will hold onto
is the hand of the little child within me.
Seeking love and assurance from within,
I will open my hands, spread my fingers and let everything else go.
I will no longer grasp limitations that hinder my ability to see and be grateful,
that mask the abundance before me,
the joy within me,
my capacity for unconditional peace and love,
and my ability to know in the unknown.

We are wired for connection…to thrive these connections must be established, mended, and maintained.
To Establish requires the courage to welcome something new and possibly quite uncomfortable.
To Mend calls upon our capacity to heal hurts and embrace the pains of growing.
To Maintain is the essence of flexibility and fortitude.
We watch and encourage the healing of the wounded body – its powerful transformation and rebirth, over and over again, ever celebrating its capacity to establish, mend, and maintain.
If only the heart and mind were afforded such a generous space of repair and connection.

White flowers
Dark textures
Straight lines
Soft edges
Living wholeness
Dried pieces
Flowing lines
Still emptiness
Warm touches
Cool feeling
Hope and breath
In the spaces
Photo courtesy of Susan Kerr.

Challenge can breed fear.
Fear fosters insecurity.
Insecurity inhibits growth.
Growth is a fundamental quality of living.
With growth we can overcome fear.
With every little bit of fear we face
We grow and that growth produces wider bands of safety
Making the next challenge a little easier to face,
Until more and more often the challenges yield directly to growth over fear,
And growth becomes the natural next step closer to joy.

They say it’s the rainy season,
But this sweet hibiscus might disagree.
Roots reach out for a hint of moisture
Only to find dry fissures.
Body wilting,
Edges curling
Under the heat of the
Unrelenting sun.
Is it possible to need less?
To hold out for the rain?
Leaves start to yellow and fall to the ground.
It may be unrecoverable.
The sky grays,
The wind picks up
Tugging on every branch.
Pounding rain bounces off the parched ground
Smacking the undersides of the few remaining leaves.
The clouds break.
The ground is soft.
The leaves are green.
Out pops a blossom.
No ties to suffering.
No lingering struggle.
Just strong, vibrant.
Resilient.

Like begets like.
Peace leads to peace.
Kindness breeds kindness.
Suffering can lead to ease.
Mistakes become opportunities for growth.
Loss makes room for freedom.
Fear dissolves in faith.
Whatever I cultivate as my experience, I have the ultimate power to accept or shift the paradigm. Every experience serves me even when on the surface it may look grim. When I align an experience with the goal of knowing love, the love that is there always – not between people but that creates people – everything comes into balance, harmony prevails.
I no longer need to label my experiences as good or bad when I know that all experiences unfold before me so that I can explore what it is like to be my best self.
This is the process of trust.

The Ackland Museum at the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill just hosted an exhibit entitled “Good Object/Bad Object,” inviting visitors to examine works of art that defy customary decorum and could be called “bad” because they are unpredictably designed yet they achieve an emotional depth and resonant beauty equal to “good” art.
Bad objects are opportunities to explore the edge of our comfort zone and try on new ways of seeing the world.
When the role is taken on responsibly, a bad object can be the catalyst of change and inspire different thinking.
Isn’t it interesting how quickly we humans need to label things as good or bad when often those characteristics are circumstantial. Nature doesn’t operate that way.
In humans, often when a bad object occurs without sufficient planning and understanding, the artist might become defensive or even resentful, denying accountability for their creation. If they have not been provided the encouragement and freedom to create outside of traditional constructs, the artist might try to hide the bad object, its potential emotional depth and beauty lost.
More often than not these days I find myself stronger, more confident, and more accomplished when I step into the role of “bad object.” It is not that I am not good at these times. It is that I willingly take responsibility for non-conforming, breaking a patterned interaction, and inciting a shift in perspective to achieve a familiar level of resonance in an unfamiliar way.
There is a role for each of us as good objects and bad objects. The contrast reminds us of our undeniable ability to contain emotional depth and resonant beauty in the most surprising ways.

Don’t be afraid of being weak.
Where we find our weakness,
we also uncover our potential for strength.

Cracks in the foundation.
Gotta dig deeper.
Move more dirt.
Secure the footings.
Rising fear like flooding waters.
Climbing higher
Full of frailty
Mounting doubt
Insecurity
in the instability
existence threatened
Could it all crumble?
Maybe it should.
Digging deep.