Musings

A great wind is blowing, and that gives you either imagination or a headache.
~Catherine the Great

Wind is a mysterious element, isn’t it? Began mulling about that in the wee hours this morning as the wind howled up a storm, pummeling against the side of the house.

Some people find this sound comforting knowing they are snuggled safe and warm inside their cozy homes. Others find the sound haunting and disturbing, knowing the world will look different when they awake.

As I waited for the wind to abate a bit, it crossed my mind that wind takes on many diverse meanings—sometimes simultaneously—contributing to wind’s mysterious nature. Take the Chinook for example. The word Chinook means ‘snow eater’ and a true Chinook wind will do just that—eat up all the snow exposing bare ground—which is advantageous for foraging animals, but confusing to plant life which can die off if they start their spring re-growth prematurely and are taken off guard by the next severe snow storm.

People tend to appreciate Chinooks as they provide a break from the harshness of winter. The more Chinooks, the milder the winter. However, the stronger the Chinook, the more damage caused by the strong winds. You may not have to shovel your driveway as often; but you may have other troubles such as torn siding, broken windows from flying debris, and the like. So a wind that can bring comfort can also bring harm.

Same for the cold, blustery winds. They may bring frigid air and biting wind chill; but often they also bring moisture which the land needs for sustenance. As well, the cold temperatures keep the rhythm of life in check. Animals stay burrowed. Plants stay dormant. And the foraging animals know how to keep sustained even in extreme conditions. They have their sources.

Come summer, winds can waft in as refreshing breezes, or bluster through with sand and dirt chasing its heels, or interfere in our plans in one way or another. We can welcome wind, or curse in the direction from whence it came. At any rate, wind carries with it the message of change. The world will somehow be different once the winds settle down or blow on their way.

So what does the wind mean for you? Does it represent the rhythms of natural life? Or the mysterious presence of the Spiritual Other? Is it a reminder of the ever-changing nature of our lives? Much like we do with the wind, we can either fight against what is or work with what blows our way. The wind can remind us to pause in our day to reflect upon the rhythms of life, our spiritual needs, our response to change; or even to welcome and embrace refreshment, uplifting moments, the breath of life, or the comforts of hearth and home.

As we begin another New Year in the midst of winter, may the winds that blow offer comfort and solace, as well as remind us to boldly endure and to marvel at the mysteries of Life.

The pessimist complains about the wind; the optimist expects it to change; the realist adjusts the sails.
~William Arthur Ward

Christmas is weird. What other time of year do you sit in front of a dead tree and eat candy out of socks?
~ Crabby Road

Christmas is a time of mixed emotions for many people. The season can be associated with pain and suffering as well as joy and good cheer. Some years can be filled with more of one than another. Our hopes and expectations can be dashed with a single phone call or a misspoken word—or can be exceeded beyond measure by a gesture—grand or small.

Christmas can also be a time when feuds are set aside for at least a day to celebrate whatever it is this time of year means for people: family, good food, gift exchanges, caroling, Saint Nick to Santa Claus, the Nativity Story. The list is endless of what Christmas signifies to people as well as the symbols that surround that meaning.

Symbols both generate their own significance as well as contribute to a grander meaning.  Symbols also change over time. What once held positive memories can later have negative associations. Traditions (those rituals we hold so dear because they hold special meaning) can also lose their import and be replaced by more current ones. When we get stuck in symbols or traditions that lose their meaning, the holidays can take on a drudgery that conflicts with the overall message of goodwill.

Symbols can also mean different things to different people that can be far different than the original. Take the Christmas tree for example. While its origins are difficult to pin down, the general idea is that it represents the tree of life and is associated with the Christ child. Most of us probably think of other things when we look at our beautifully decorated trees—such as fond memories of our childhoods, anticipating looks of delight as gifts are exchanged, remembering moments prompted by a glance upon a special ornament. It might be worth a moment of meditation to reflect upon the tree as a symbol of eternal life—hope for the hereafter—or even the continuity of life represented in the greenery as well as the family traditions passed down through the years.

Christmas can be a time of connection unparalleled by any other time of the year. There is something about the lights, the sparkle, the reminders of a break from the usual. For that really is the root of Christmas—a celebration of the winter solstice—the shortest/darkest day of the year is behind us and the days can only get longer and brighter. Christmas began as a religious alternative to the popular festivities to mark this significant time of year. Sometimes it seems we have come full circle. Christmas is once again a popular diversion for the masses. Any spiritual significance to the holiday must be consciously noted—even with all the nativity plays, services, and caroling. It just becomes empty tradition after a while. Not that there isn’t joy to be found there; but if these long held traditions and symbols are to have any personal meaning, it is worth a moment or two to actually think about what this time of year represents for you.

I have found it is also worth considering those empty traditions and symbols—or the ones that now have negative associations—to replace them with fresh ones. That action itself can signify the renewal inherent in the season. For spring is coming when once again light will flood the land. This may be a season of darkness—in more ways than one for some—but the Light is coming. The darkness will not last forever.

May your Christmas season be filled with hope and renewal as we transition from darkness into light.

A while back I had an unusual moment of enlightenment out walking with my dog. Now, I often have ‘a-ha’ moments while out with my faithful companion as I let my mind wander and ruminate on whatever catches its fancy. However, this time was different as I was attempting to communicate with my dog.

Since moving to a different community and exploring new routes for the proverbial “morning constitutional,” we have had the pleasure of meeting fellow, regular dog walkers. One in particular has become a favourite—for both the person and the pet. As our busy lives interfere with maintaining a schedule executed with military precision, it is not possible to meet on a consistent, daily basis. So some mornings I feel compelled to inform my dog, “Nobody’s here.”

I don’t know what makes me think my dog can’t come to the same conclusion as I have given the same data: no familiar vehicle in the parking lot, no person of significance to be sighted, no whiff of that certain canine BFF. In my role as caregiver, I think I must communicate to her that her friends are not in the vicinity—it will be ‘just us’ this morning. Sure, her hopes are up as we climb the small hill to the park; but she assesses the situation just as well as I do. I suspect the difference is she can make the better adjustment to disappointment. At least some days. There have been mornings when she will linger at the top, alert for any hint that her friends will appear, before descending back into our subdivision.

Unlike many humans, dogs have an uncanny ability to ‘roll with the punches,’ ‘go with the flow,’ make the most of ‘what is.’ They live in the moment. And when the moment has passed, there’s always hope for another one around the next bend. So when I inform my dog that “Nobody’s here,” what does she do? Keep on the lookout for “Nobody.” The phrase, “Nobody’s here,” to my canine companion means that somebody named Nobody has arrived—which is exciting news indeed. Try and correct that impression when in fact the very opposite is true.

This revelation prompted thoughts about other statements that make no sense to a dog’s way of thinking. My dog can respond to many ‘affirmative’ instructions including come, stop, wait, sit, look, find. Conversely, negative instructions are not in her vocabulary. She cannot comprehend how ‘not’ to do something. She is incapable of ‘not jumping’ or ‘not running off;’ but she can ‘stay down’ and ‘stay close.’ This realization made me think of how we speak to other dependents in our lives.

We spend a lot of energy informing children of what they are not supposed to do: jump on the couch, pull the dog’s tail, pinch their brother or sister, throw food, yell, etc. However, the child is usually so engaged in what they were doing that they fail to come up with alternative behaviours on their own. Hence, the predictable, and perpetual, cycle of ‘negative enforcement’ ensues—the undesired behaviour continues while the caregiver gets frustrated giving the same ‘negative’ command.

What if we were to take a lesson from the pet world? Instead of constant negative commands, we intercept the undesired behaviour with a redirection—tell the child what to do rather than what not to do—maybe even participate with them for a few minutes. The alternate behaviour is reinforced with positive attention; and the inappropriate behaviour is stopped without engaging in the negative cycle.

Maybe I will have to try this with more than the dependents in my life. What would happen if I made a conscious choice to communicate with others in this manner? State what I want rather than what I don’t want. If you join me in this experiment, let me know how it goes.

May you experience improved communication within your circles of interaction—inspired by a creature focused on connection and living in the moment. Happy trails!

After last month’s blog entry, I had the pleasure to head out into the woods with two of my favourite people and my dog—and make my own attempts at distracting myself with a mild form of meditation. In basic terms, it can be described as paying attention to (and appreciating) my surroundings. Another word for it is mindfulness. I’ve used this word before. It is also part of the broad art of meditation.

As I type this, I am looking at a photo my husband took of me sitting in the creek focusing on the sights and sounds all around me. Of course he didn’t know that I was doing anything in particular; he was simply taking a picture of his wife perched on a large rock in the shallow, soothing creek. He also captured a brief video of this moment; and so, I can relive the moment to a certain extent. Somehow it just isn’t the same, but it is a good reminder.

In that moment of being immersed in nature, I recall there being nothing to worry about. I allowed the rush of the little creek (amazing what sound can be produced from such a small amount of water in motion) to drown out all thoughts but those of the creek, the canyon, the trees, and the trail. The sights of the towering canyon blotted out intruding visions of tasks, and lists, and stuff of everyday life. The wind in the trees sighed a little louder than my own. The earth’s own aroma of life in its natural cycle kept the sights and sounds fresh and alive—gave them power to supersede all other thought. And for that moment, there was nothing to worry about. My mind had a break from its normal rush and roar. My spirit was replenished.

Now of course one cannot stay perched on a large rock in a soothing creek forever. Life will go on—with or without me. However, I am grateful for the moment of reprieve—and this secondary one being able to relive it in some fashion. It also calls to me to do that again. What I find the greater challenge is making time for mini-breaks in the midst of everyday life. It is one thing to go off into the wilderness on the occasional weekend. It is quite another to incorporate meditation or mindfulness into routine.

I can do this in two ways. One of which is to take breaks of solitude and focus on sights, sounds, or smells that soothe. The other is be fully present in any given moment. I find this takes a bit more discipline, but others may find this easier than setting aside solitude time. As I type this and think about being fully present, I take note of the sound my computer makes as my fingers “fly across the keyboard.” I hear the quiet drone of the main computer in the room. The silence of the rest of the house becomes ‘louder’ in the stillness. If I listen more closely, I would eventually hear the hum of the refrigerator or the whirr of the furnace fan. Just now, my slippers brushed against the legs of the chair as I switched positions. Glancing out the window, I can see fall colours highlighted by the late afternoon sun. I think it is too early for the sun to start its descent into evening, but such is part of autumn. As I focus my attention outside, the sounds of vehicles become evident. People are returning home from work. The day is shifting to evening activities.

Even now, I am amazed at how effective that little exercise was at calming my hurried brain intent on completing yet another task. My breathing has slowed. My attention shifted. However, I must return my focus to the task at hand in order to start another one: supper preparation.

Thank you for sharing this moment with me. May you find the perfect spot in your day to slow down to be fully present or stop altogether for quiet meditation.

“We walk in circles, so limited by our own anxieties that we can no longer distinguish between true and false, between the gangster’s whim and the purest ideal” ~ Ingrid Bergman

Have you ever caught yourself thinking into ever-narrowing circles? Seems like you are going over and over the same material in your mind? If only you could find that one thread that could unravel the rope and swing you in the right direction? When I find myself in this predicament, I have yet to ‘get somewhere’ with my thinking. Rather the effect seems to be passing over the same path so often, I have dug myself a trench.

Reminds me of oxen tethered to a pole who are moving interminably forward in a circle as they tread grain. However, when we get ourselves worked into circles, the result is not life-preserving nourishment. I find I am drained of energy with even fewer resources to find a resolution to my problem.

So what’s to be done? Well, for one, we have to stop ourselves from going over and over the same material. We can ask ourselves, how is this helping? Usually we will find it’s not. It’s just getting ourselves worked up. So we can tell ourselves to stop it, this is not helping. And we can take a break. Most issues that get us riled up are not the ones that require immediate action. They are longstanding. We’ve been around the block a few times already with them. So take a break from thinking about it. Distract yourself by becoming immersed in something else—a hobby or chore that needs to get done.

Obviously we can’t ignore our problems indefinitely. Well, some of us try, but they usually find a way back into our everyday lives. Sometimes talking to someone else can provide the fresh perspective we’re looking for. On the other hand, our circle of confidants may be so tired of our circling thoughts that they don’t want to hear another word on the subject.

Here are some options. Meditation. Clearing our minds and focusing on something else can provide the calm mental environment the mind needs to come up with a solution. If you are not familiar with this practice, try joining a meditative yoga class or taking individual yoga lessons.

Reading. It is likely that someone else has experienced what you are going through and has written about it. Browse the bookstores or do a subject search at your local library to find resources to read about how others have handled a similar situation.

Dialogue. If your situation involves another person, depending on the circumstance, it may be helpful to ask for their input. There are obvious risks to this option, but if you approach the other person with curiosity rather than confrontation—inviting their input—it may not escalate into a yelling match. You might actually be heard by the other person if you make a gesture to hear their perspective.

What have you attempted to break the cycle of circling thoughts? Anything you’d like to share?

Curiosity will conquer fear even more than bravery will.
~ James Stephens

This thing about curiosity and fear came home for me while travelling recently. I have a love-hate relationship with bears. I admire and greatly respect these marvelous creatures; but I am terrified of them. Even though I have been arming myself with information to counter the baseless fears —and they are baseless, for I personally have never had a negative encounter with a bear—I am still prone to anxiety and panic attacks when I even suspect I might be in the vicinity of a member of the Ursus family.

Somehow I have bought into the belief that bears are dangerous and ‘out to get me’ when really they couldn’t care less about my existence—except for certain circumstances that make total sense—like interfering with their food source (i.e. trails along berry patches), or getting into their personal space, or too close to their offspring. People aren’t so different. We don’t do so well either when people or animals mess with our food, our personal space, or our dependants (be they children or pets).

In one of those twists of paradox, communication break-downs among people are common and expected. For some reason, we have higher expectations of inter-special communication and greatly resent when the animal kingdom impinges upon people-dom. We think drastic measures have to be taken to get our point across—even though some basic prevention—i.e. communication about boundaries—would have done the trick.

Bears are quite clear about boundary crossings. They send messages that are often misunderstood as aggression, when really, it’s about ‘get out of my space.’ Usually because we missed the subtler signs. People are no different. We miss the signs all the time. Or we are not very clear and let things get out of hand until ‘somebody blows.’

So even though I have gleaned plenty of useful, practical knowledge about safe bear-people interactions, the fear persists. To use the curious approach to address my fear, it then begs the question: Where did this irrational fear come from? Even more importantly, what does this fear say about me? Do I want to keep believing that about myself? Or do I want to start thinking in terms of empowering myself to handle tense situations rather than elicit the flight response—for running is not always the best option.

To be curious, gives me time to think things through rather than spiral out of control. And with bears, there is time to think—particularly when I stop to listen to what they are communicating in their language. In this case, knowledge is power. I can use that knowledge to defuse the threat. For often there is no threat—just an imaginative mind on overdrive.

So being curious about my fear of bears, is really about getting curious about myself. And being patient with myself as I unlearn the old beliefs and relearn new coping skills. I won’t get it ‘just right’ with my next bear encounter—but I will get better—building on each experience until one day I will ask myself, What bear phobia? Experience has taught me that much already.

What fear might you tackle next with curiosity? Bears may not be on your horizon, but how about public speaking? Or crowded rooms? Or a sensitive discussion that needs to happen? How might getting curious about your anxiety help you to move forward?

What beliefs are lurking in your closet that could use some exposure—or airing out—with a healthy dose of curiosity?

Curiosity will conquer fear even more than bravery will.
~ James Stephens

Lately, I have been writing about The Void—now thought of as Spaciousness. In the same conversation that resulted in reframing The Void as spaciousness, we also talked about those inner voices that seem to haunt us—and are louder and more persistent than anything we supposedly think up for ourselves.

We remember being called stupid, or fat, or any other label for ‘less than.’ And any time we try to tell ourselves otherwise, that label clamors and grows more insistent. This makes for very hard therapeutic work when we try to exchange internalized negative messages with positive ones. And usually some progress can be made. We do grow more confidant in believing the positive self-talk and in refuting the negative internalized messages—that may feel true but are not true.

In a sense, we have to choose not to believe them anymore. We come to the conclusion that they no longer serve a purpose, they are not helping us. If it is not helping, why do we ‘go there’ in our minds?  It seems we have to first put aside these labels (or beliefs) in order to move forward—to finally believe we are worth the effort.

But I digress. Back to where curiosity fits in. Some of my inner voices were getting rather rowdy—it was hard to think straight over the din—and I was getting frustrated trying to shush them up and bring some gentler, kinder voices into the mix. You know, the ones considered party-poopers by those rambunctious trouble makers. And rather than fight them, it was suggested to me to get curious about them. Why are they ‘in there’ the first place? What prompted them to party a little harder just then? That sort of thing.

In general terms, I know where these rabble-rousing negative messages come from. Most of us could tell similar stories of parents, or siblings, or classmates who said or did things that left indelible marks. We internalize this stuff to be true. As we mature, we usually encounter opportunities that test the ‘trueness’ of the statements we have internalized. While we all have our ‘less-than-optimal’ moments, we also all have our moments of brilliance, of strength, of beauty, of contribution, of appreciation.

What we need to get curious about is what prompts all this negative self-perception. A misspoken word, a certain look, a sequence of events can all act as triggers. And we remember. It brings up all that old messaging. Time for those gentler, kinder voices to get a little louder and remind ourselves that we are not still 10—or whatever age—and not in the same situation. It may feel like we are in it all over again; but it is good to remind ourselves that we are in a new moment in the present. We can choose a different response. We can choose to think differently.

This is where curiosity conquers fear, or anxiety, even better than bravery. When we get curious, we ask questions rather than fight to the final breath. And last I checked, the point of this whole ‘get up’ is to make the most of every breath we take. To be more mindful.

Giving ourselves time to be curious also allows us to ask ourselves, What do I need?  Do I need to beat myself up at this particular moment? Or do I need to care for myself on a deeper level? What would that caring look like? If you are reminded of a past moment, what would you have liked to receive at the time of the insult or injury? Can you give that to yourself now?

As you get curious about what ‘gets under your skin,’ may you find rest from the rabble-rousers of your mind.

Stay tuned for next month when I relate this bit about curiosity and fear as it relates to my phobia of bears…

Last month I mentioned The Void. I’m fairly confident that most of us are familiar with our own Voids. Mine seems to take on the shape, colour, and characteristics of an astronomical Black Hole. For others, it might appear as a barren wasteland or a stagnant lagoon. At any rate, it is that unseen force that seems to suck the life right out of us, drain us dry, paint life with a hopeless brush, stagnate rather than stimulate. Life may seem empty and pointless. We tend to want to fill that void or aerate that wilderness in order not to feel the vastness, the emptiness, the aridness, the stagnation.

Since then, it has come to my attention that The Void may not be a vacuous Black Hole after all. I have already mentioned that we can accept The Void and choose not to fill it. My journey now takes that conclusion one step (or spiral) further—or in another direction depending on how your journey make look. Journeys tend not to be linear progressions.

The word we are looking for is Spaciousness. Once I have accepted and allow for the existence of The Void, it provides an opportunity to look at it from another angle. From this new vantage point, the void appears expansive, limitless, open to infinite possibilities. Does this make you think of any other time in history when seemingly nothing begat something? For the person who shared this idea of spaciousness with me, it reminded him of God creating something out of nothing. I like that association. Even for those who hold to the Big Bang Theory—something still came out of nothing. Viewing the ‘negative space’ of my existence as opportunity-for-explosion is rather exciting—and hopeful—don’t you think?

There may yet come something out of my nothing. It may be influenced by a Creative Presence or self-combustion. Either way, change is inevitable. My Void or Spaciousness will not look or feel the same. Reminds me of art class and learning the value of ‘negative space’—and how good use of negative space enhances the focal point rather than detracts from it. That’s what I want for my ‘negative space’—for it to enhance what is already taking shape or forming in the innermost of my being. Who knows what will burst forth next?

What might be brewing or fomenting in the hidden regions of your being? Any explosions worth mentioning? Might be a good idea not to mess with it. No use filling that emptiness with stuff that might inhibit a process already underway. Rather, take a step back and appreciate the view. That Black Hole might turn out to be a galaxy of stars sparkling in a deep night sky.

I had other ideas in mind for May’s blog, prompted by last month’s Royal Wedding. However, recent events have me thinking along different lines.

Such as: life is paradox. We are constantly faced with pain and pleasure, joy and sorrow, grief and encouragement—simultaneously. By that I mean, life does not usually consist of first experiencing a down followed by the relief of an up. Unless, of course, a person struggles with bi-polar disorder which involves swinging between extreme highs and lows.

I am thinking of how on a beautiful day a person can receive devastating news of loss—of home, loved one, income. Or on the crummiest of weather days, a person can receive exceptional news of promotion, expectation, or acquisition which suddenly deems the cloudy skies irrelevant.

It seems, more often than not, life hands us variety rather than all-or-nothing. Exhaustion follows a lovely weekend in the Rocky Mountains. However, exhaustion is mere inconvenience compared to the devastation of flood or forest fire. My home is intact. I have not lost everything even if my health is less than optimal.

One of my worst fears is losing everything in a fire. There is no replacing the mementos of a life time of experiences. The photos, trinkets, and symbols of achievements, vacations, and relationships are gone. Permanently. However, if I live to tell about the fire, there is opportunity to make more memories and collect new treasures while grieving the loss of the former life mementos.

If a flood washes away my life as I know it, there is opportunity to make an even better one. I can hopefully find refuge in family and friends. I will not be alone in my loss or in the rebuilding of a life—as tragic and disabling as that may be initially.

Life happens in all its pathos and celebration. I want to be spared the heaviness of ‘real life;’ but then, that would require missing out on compassion, grace, mercy, loving kindness—all offered to me in my time of grief and rebuilding. I could not in return connect with others in their own distress—if we could somehow find the magic wand that not only relieves suffering but prevents it. Another paradox. For without pathos, we as human beings could not live out our true potential to love and care for one another. Our true purpose for living.

We miss so much of life by focusing exclusively on the pursuit of happiness. For it is, after all, only a pursuit—and only a part of life. This past weekend I heard a beautiful definition of the abundant life—to be fully awake and fully alive—whether that be in a time of affliction or affluence. I know for myself, I tend to ‘zone out’ to adversity—I want to be anything but awake and alive. But without the pruning and the manure, trees cannot produce and thrive.

In this paradox of life, we cannot have one without the other despite our efforts to drown our sorrows or eat our troubles away. In yet another paradox, for me to be fully awake and fully alive starts with acknowledging ‘The Void’ and granting myself permission not to fill it with food, or television, or work, or mood altering substances. The Void just is part of life. Oddly enough, it is very liberating to live with The Void without the constant effort to fill it.

My next step will be to take a look at what The Void is telling me about me—and what is interfering with being fully awake and fully alive—regardless of what life throws at me.

To end, my thoughts are with those facing devastating loss and are facing the gargantuan task of rebuilding shattered lives. My fatigue today is nothing compared to that. The weather, while fickle, is life giving. So today, I hold in my heart, gratitude for what is in my life and grief for those amidst adversity. And thankfully, my heart is capable of holding both simultaneously.

Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn’t people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them?
~Rose F. Kennedy

The middle of April has snuck up on me. Wish spring would do the same. Snow, snow, and more snow. While generally I am a fan of the fluffy, white stuff, this year I’m ready to cancel my club membership.

However, last evening I had a lesson from the birds. As we drove through the countryside, we witnessed puddle after puddle crowded with aquatic fowl. It always captures my heart and mind when I see Mallard Ducks and Canada Geese gathering together while stopping for the night on their migratory journeys.

And what a better way to pause from shoveling snow, then to stop and listen to birds sing?

Our current residence is without trees, bird feeder, and birds. It is very quiet. However, last night we had to check on our former property and shovel the snow so the new owners could gain access. This location backed onto a treed green space. With the mix of new snowfall and melt water, the low spots were full of water—and birds. So were the trees and overhead wires. The birds were happily singing. And what was I doing in similar conditions? Not singing, that’s for sure.

Here it is the middle of April. The birds are on their annual quest for their summer homes. And what do they encounter? Winter weather. What they left to escape back in the fall. Their usual food sources and nesting areas are obscured by frozen precipitation. Yet they sing. The beauty of their communal song made the gentle snowfall of earlier in the day appear like a violent storm in contrast.

My life certainly has not been interrupted or inconvenienced to the extent of these wild beings. Yet I grumble while they sing. Amazing. It was indeed calming to stand still, watch, listen, and learn in the company of these accommodating creatures.

So I gained a few things from my feathered friends: 1) Calm; 2) Meditation; 3) Entertainment; 4) Perspective. I am exceedingly grateful for the moments I claimed as my own to appreciate my fellow travelling companions. While our journeys differ, we can enhance each other’s experience along the way.

A bittersweet moment. I will miss not having the birds around to soothe, entertain, and teach me. If only the snow would melt and the sun shine so that I could plant a tree, hang a bird feeder, and await their arrival.

What moment can you claim as your own to contemplate, find calm, and regain perspective?

“I want to sing like the birds sing—not worrying about who hears or what they think.” ~ Rumi

“Use what talents you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.” ~ Henry Van Dyke