Put Your Life Together One Piece At A Time
My daughter found herself in unexpected (!) emergency surgery on July 4 – a big holiday here in the US. I’m guessing it will forever have its own memories for her….
She pulled out, figuratively speaking – (a friend did the reaching), a 750 piece puzzle to keep her busy that first week home. Puzzles are so magnetic and tempting, aren’t they? Everyone that came to visit was drawn to it. “Just one piece”, it seemed to beg, “just find one piece that will make me more whole.”
My daughter got so frustrated with it. Lots of blues, grays, browns. She was certain there were pieces missing (there weren’t). One day she held a piece and said “why don’t they work?” Indeed.
What I experienced while helping out was this:
- When I tried too hard, it just would not work. (Attachment)
- When I came back “just to see,” it was like I had a new pair of eyes and several pieces just spoke to me, almost as if telling me...
The Intersection of Too Much & Too Much
Have you ever come to that intersection where too much collides with too much? And all the too muches are of the wrong kind?
I have.
So I asked a friend if I could stay at his beautiful vacation home for a few days.
The morning after I arrived I looked out the window and my breath was literally taken away by this view. That sharp, quick in-breath. And I realized that I had not appreciated this beauty when I arrived because I was so wrapped up in the unplowed driveway and first getting into the garage without incident (read: getting stuck). And then wondering if I’d be able to get out without said incident.
This property holds a huge space in my heart, and I have never not appreciated this lovely forest on the drive down to the house.
I am here for R&R. My life has too much of too much. These next days are about creating balance and coming back to my Center. Only then can I adequately do my job which is about helping others do exactly that.
Where does your life...
I Felt a Presence
I was at the club on the elliptical machine, eyes closed focused on the task at hand, sending Love and Light to my parents as my mother toys with opening the door called Death.
Then I felt a presence.
Four young developmentally challenged men had come to wipe down the rowing machines just ahead of me. The presence I felt was of the most shy from the group. He uttered not one word, but his soul was jumping up and down, waving greetings to me. Of course he chose the machine directly in front of me so I could dance with him in silence.
Such a gentle, sweet man. ♥ What a lovely experience that was!