In her enormity,
unruliness,
and most unyielding state,
she is soft,
subtle,
clear in her direction,
ever capable of moving,
shifting,
adapting,
aligned,
attuned,
resonate,
in her power
and beauty.
We drink of her,
ride upon her crests,
sink cradled in her stillness,
follow her home,
allow her to absorb our burdens,
as we find peace by her side.
She reflects back to us always
what we need most to see.
Be firm in your direction of travel,
humbled confidence as your guide.
With peace, kindness, and assuredness,
go forth.
Fulfill your dreams.
Don your most regal robes of passion and creativity.
Harness the flames of focus and determination.
Let the earth quake and rumble,
the skies fill with darkness,
and ride not into conflict and challenge as a battle,
but as an opportunity to demonstrate your
strength,
intelligence,
and fortitude.
Are the flowers each their own?
Are their petals each their own?
To whom do the seeds and leaves belong?
Do they come together to complete the plant?
Is the plant completing them?
Are the flowers extensions of the plant?
Could one survive without the other?
Each part grows uniquely,
in its own special way,
and still, they all contribute to something bigger.
Each part is invited to do their own work,
and to serve one another.
Each part seems separate
and yet only together
do they truly flourish.
Step softly, so that the heart of the earth feels the massage of your gentle touch and yet you leave no visible marks on her outer edges.
Speak confidently with love so that your words are heard clearly without hurting.
Experience wide open spaces without taking up residency or ownership.
Follow the rising sun as the rippling wake of warmth washing over the landscape.
Offer cool crevices like the moon without swallowing up the light.
Be your most wild, magnificent, vibrant self, touching the world lightly and leaving an indelible mark.
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.
I don’t have to think like you.
I can leave a space for your thoughts in my mind without compromising my own.
I don’t have to love you.
I can hold a space for you in the sacred abode of love in my heart.
I don’t have to make choices in response to your choices.
I can make space for choices that clears away the clouds of fear, and doubt, and greed.
Being human affords me the opportunity to think, love, and choose.
Grace affords me the space to think, love, and choose freely, kindly, and honestly and leave room for you to do the same.
I may not always be able to see clearly,
But I can always feel clearly
When I accept that where I am is where I am.
I am made of grace
Flowing and free
A mystery force
Unseen yet felt
Barreling through corridors
Softly pressing against your body
Making my way.
Often unnoticed
Unappreciated
Lonely at times
Ignored unless I rage
Stoking flames
Tipping trees
Whipping myself around wildly
Roaring in your ears.
Do you notice my work
Clearing old leaves from the trees,
Making wild flowers dance,
Brightening your cheeks?
Or are you only frustrated
As I muss your hair,
Push against you,
Rip through your windows?
Invite me in,
Swirl with me,
Experience my grace as your own.
Help me avoid the need to burst into flames
Or wither to nothing just to be noticed,
To feel connected to you.
Honor not just my ferociousness
But the power in my grace.
I am never quite sure what challenges lie ahead.
I reach out, spreading my branches despite the fog.
I do not know what I will touch or be touched by.
I cannot help but feel a darkness lurking there, fear ever present in knowing there may be hurt or pain in the unknowns and unkinds that secretly swirl around me.
The fog fuels my insecurity as the branches of other trees press against me further threatening my place in the sun.
It is then that I remember that I am made to bend and sway.
I reach not with my branches but deep down through my roots.
I extend my roots for both of us, steadying me and gently holding you so that together we can face the fog and darkness with greater certainty.
I am grateful to feel your roots hold me in return.
Under the pressure to withstand, when I feel and share my roots I need not push away those that cast shadows.
We need not struggle to find our way alone.
As I lend strength, I find security.
As I steady others, we stand together,
equally thriving,
despite the fog.
Some people come into our lives to feed us and some to be fed. On the rare occasion we find someone who is both.
Monday Mindfulness 