Last full moon I saw La Luna shine her light down on the sheep in the front pasture and I just can’t stop thinking about the peacefulness of their presence. The five of them lay so still on the end-of-summer grass that they looked like a still life. They did not move as I walked by. They were totally undisturbed, like I want to be.
If I could be more like a sheep, my life would be placid. I pray for that every day.
And I wonder under the light of the moon if going through Lyme disease may be somewhat like the pain of childbirth. Having never had a biological child, I do not know that pain, but have heard my girlfriends describe the experience, and how they got through it by remembering (in between contractions!) that they were giving life to a new being.
I wonder if the pain of illness may create a new being out of me as I pass through it. That image helped me today. I wonder if those of you who have different kinds of suffering know what I mean?
Such a passage requires the removal of doubt and fear. Fear is that killer that cripples the mind and heart. We live in a world filled with fear. We have once again passed the anniversary of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita. We witness destruction in so many areas of life. The recent anniversary of 9/11 reminds us. Moving toward the goal of courage and love to combat fear will free us to feel more compassion, not only for others, but also for our selves.
For we are sweet beings meant for joy and laughter, not fear. Yes, when there is something literally fearful in front of us, we step out of harm’s way. But when imagined fears and anticipated dread threatens to hurt our minds and bodies, it is time to take that step to move beyond fear.
The moon in the sky is not afraid. The sheep in the pasture are not afraid. This evening I commit myself to saying “no” to fear and “yes” to love. Who will take my hand as I walk down this road?
I wish you could smell the yellow scented lily that sits in a vase next to my computer. Its scent is just right — not too shy and not too overpowering. This summer seemed the sweetest in years. In front of the porch is a wild garden filled with snapdragons, lavender and pink roses, (I can never remember the names of flowers unless they are words which reach out and caress me as much as the scent and are as beautiful as the flower itself.) But back to the flowers!
Lacey-top hydrangea, foxglove, and — “taa-daa” — the flower whose face seems to be the face of God — the sunflower – also graces us! Those of you who have read “Divine Secrets” or kept up with my posts over the years know that I bow down to this flower in delight and a kind of sunflower worship that some might call Pagan, but which I call gratefulness.
When I’m not writing, I’m enjoying walking up the lane with old Douglas firs towering above me. I check in on the sheep, who are fat and happy in the pasture they were just moved into today. Lucy had an infection and my sweet husband gave her the shots she needed. Now she’s all better. Mister Lonely, who was once shunned by all the others, is no longer isolated since Gracie befriended him.
Our little King Charles Cavalier spaniel, Mercy, continues to ignore the sheep as though they were not only a lesser species, but as though they simply weren’t there! She is a princess as she trots down the lane, not pausing for a moment as the sheep “baaaa” to me, hoping for a bit of alfalfa.
La Luna shines down on everything. She grows from a “fingernail” moon, as I called her as a child, to a full glorious moon that takes our breath away. I watch her from the front porch move across the southern sky. I look to her for aid; I look to her with a grateful heart. I look to her with prayers for peace and love for all of you, for all of our sisters and brothers on this tiny planet spinning in space.
Take care, be happy, and remember to keep dancing in the kitchen!
“The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder” has been chosen as one of the September, 2009 IndieNext List Books . Suggested by independent bookseller Rita Moran from Apple Valley Books of Winthrop, Maine, Rebecca is so appreciative of being chosen for this honor.
Autumn is quietly tiptoeing in. A few big leaf maple leaves are breathed down when the breezes come along, breathed at a time When I walk down the lane with Mercy, our spaniel, I watch the lengthening shadows. The days getting shorter. My Southern girl body already needs a jacket or a gardening coat to cut flowers in the early evening. We harvest string beans, tomatoes (Both red and the low-acidic yellow ones), yellow squash, and corn from our garden and from the community garden, and then we sauté it all into a summer succotash.
A painting that inspired the creation of The Moon Lady from "The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder" hangs on one wall of the dining room. Before my sweet husband Tom and I sit down I madly rush to clear the table of my journal, date book, and letters in progress and I light candles. We have promised ourselves to sit down and eat dinner together whenever possible, to let it be a time to share and laugh and we call it a date.
In an attempt to quiet my life we have no television service. There’s no cable service here, and I am not going to pay a small fortune for satellite hookup, so the decision was made a little easier. Even with that, it’s not easy to live a deliberately slow life. I still wake up with a sense of rushing and have to calm myself because I can’t save the world, because none of us can vet the world. We can live a life so that we love others and are kind, we can do our best to help those who are hurting. We can slow down and sit with candles on the table and look at our husbands or children or wives, aging mothers and fathers and with friends and we can eat simply and look for joy.
This past week as a nation we lost Ted Kennedy, whom I was grateful to for his keeping the faith. As an individual I lost a friend from my childhood to a motorcycle accident. We went to college together. His mother was my mother’s best friend and his humor always reminded me of hers, a dry wit and sly smile.
The leaves fall from the trees, the hydrangeas are ready to bring in and dry. The heart must crack open again. It happens to me. It happens to Calla Lily in my latest book. It happens to us all. At the same time, the beauty of the forest and the tall, tall trees — the "green angels" I call them — border the farm, stand sentry, green all year long. Evergreen love. Nothing lasts forever. Is this just-breaking news? Will it make Fox News? I don’t think so. But news from the universe is always-breaking news, and it happens with our volume turned down real, real quiet.
From my garden to yours, I wish for you 84,000 Blessings,