She Kept to Her Schedule

September 24, 2017September 24, 2017 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

I remember a time
when time was not just another consumable,
and moments were embraced
instead of thrown away by distraction
and the addiction to over-doing.
A time when moments were moments
and clocks were wall decorations,
their faces barely noticed.
There was no inward push
or unrelenting need to get from here to there,
to check off this list or that.
I remember a time
when moments unfolded
with youthful joy and presence.
That was eons ago.

When did keeping time morph into losing it?
We schedule, we plan, we run around getting things done
and in a flash, another day is done.
Do the morning routine,
get the workout in,
clean up and put on the public face and accessories,
suffer the commute,
work long hours,
scrape together some nutrition,
eat fast and mindlessly,
catch up with social media,
the news,
go to bed.
Then try to sleep with a restless mind in full gear,
still ticking through your list.
Get up.
Do it all over again.
Time is spent.

But not wisely.

Life is short.
We all say it,
but few of us get it
until we get to be fifty something
and our friends start getting sick and dying.
Life is really short!

What if we get to the end of our life,
and this is what our tombstone says:
“Loving mother and wife. She kept to her schedule.”

Ouch.

We must learn the art of The Stop.
Stop the inner push that moves us forward
into the next thing
when we have not even experienced
what is before us
right now.

How many times have I been so busy planning
that I forget to notice
what is in my current vision?
How many times have I missed the colors, the beauty, the scents
the loved one next to me
because I am in my head
instead of my moment?

How many times have I pretended to listen
while I get something else accomplished simultaneously?
How often did I forget to look into your eyes
to see the longing
or the love there?

We are taught to do
instead of to be.
We are deceived into believing
that filling up our days with busyness
means we are doing well in life.
It is not true.

We must stop.
Push the pause button as often as possible.
Notice. Relish. Honor. Appreciate.
Embrace fully
as if our life depended on it,
because it does.

Otherwise, we spend our life
like we are on a credit card binge
which leaves us empty and bankrupt
in the end.

Life is short.

Noticing

September 10, 2017 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

The way it feels

when I dare to step away from patterns

long held onto

with a tight knuckle grip

as a way to hold me up,

glue me together.

The look in your eyes

when I am really paying attention,

allowing my heart to open to you.

The soaring freedom that sends me

to new depths and heights

all at the same time

when I get out of my own way.

How pain disappears

when my attention turns in a divine direction

instead of towards my navel,

so clogged with repetitive angst.

How a long walk by the sea washes me

of all the garbage

I have allowed to enter my soul –

a baptism of surf and sound,

wind and grace.

The thunder of the surf rocking me,

holding me with an eternal embrace.

Oh, how healing that is!

How the voice of a great singer

sends my spirit soaring

and beckons me to use my voice

with full expression and power,

freeing it

and healing me from the multitude of ways

I have held it back.

How Love is present,

when I am present

whether with the dying,

my love,

or my cat.

Turning away from the moment

robs me,

robs us –

of God’s company.

Waking up is a beautiful thing –

a peeling of the layers –

that so strangle and constrict.

We think these layers are important

but they are all false construction.

I love the release as they fall away

allowing a deeper joy

to be found.

I am noticing

two openings:

my eyes with inspired vision,

my heart with a tender softening.

Both are wrapped up in deep peace.

Poem · Poetry

The Opening

September 6, 2017September 6, 2017 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

It is the space between
what I hear
and how I receive it.

It is the time between
what I think
and what I do.

It is the moment of rest
I sometimes allow
before the next thing.

This is the place that needs enlarging.
But I tend to keep it small,
even though it beckons me
with sweet whispers
and gentle nudges.

I hear it in the rhythm of the waves
and the rustle of the dancing leaves.
I see it in the glide of the seagulls
and the ballet of the small shorebirds
as they float across the shoreline.
Be like us,
they seem to say.
Float through your day.
It is easy
if you let go
and feel the flow.

The invitation is always there,
expansive and inviting –
a huge place of calm and beauty
waiting to hold me
with a comforting embrace.
Waiting to lead me
to the unimaginable.

But I am distracted.

I know I am not alone in this.

Thankfully,
Grace is a beautiful and patient teacher.
She has taught me many things.
I finally know that
You are in the space that calls.
You are in each breath –
especially the deep ones.
You are in me.
You are around me.
You work through me.
You need me as much as
I need you.

I have learned that turning away from you
and ignoring your sweet beaconing
is akin to a slow and lonely death.

Opening to You –
and the spaces between,
is like coming home
to who I am.

Poem · Poetry

You See Me

September 6, 2017October 24, 2017 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

Beyond the ways I hide

from myself,

you see me.

Underneath the make up

and beneath the gray roots and wrinkles,

you see me.

Despite my busy ways,

my lists,

my problems with digestion,

my anxieties,

my crafty ways of avoidance

and inattention,

you see me.

You see all of me.

Sometimes when I look in your eyes,

I catch a glimpse

of the me

that you hold in your heart.

It is a beautiful vision.

When I catch its glimmer,

I feel a wholeness,

an unfamiliar peace –

about life,

about Love,

about being me.

So, I am thinking…

this must be what Love is –

to hold onto that larger picture of our beloved –

to cherish it for them

and to protect it from harm

as if it were a world class masterpiece.

A beloved allows for the dropping

of all that does not matter

so that we can hold onto each other

for dear life –

for a life that is dear.

Beloved,

I am yours.