all that is not given is lost.

so there was this woman who called me at work to inquire about our homebound service...and it became apparent as she wandered through her questions [she was hoping to get a particular book before school began for her students to use in her classroom]...that she had recently found herself in the predicament of being [as she said]...handicapped [and then, she said...i don't like that word]...and i sensed her challenges to mobility were a new thing...and here she was on the phone with me...trying to find a way...still focused on something she obviously cared very much about [teaching]...because she only has transport, apparently, to the doctor and to work...and yet, she was trying, desperately, to find a way...to prepare for the coming school year...to do...what in the past, may have been so much easier...without thought or planning or consequence of being confined to [as she called it] this chair. and the minutes ticked on as she plied me with questions about everything...about our service...about the possibility of getting this book sent to her...about the possibility of having it sent to her local library if her son could pick it up...about how that process works...about our courier system...about how she would be notified...about how she could know what other items,titles,books could be available to her...and it was abundantly clear that for every question i answered, the possibilities were igniting a hundred other inquiries in her mind. and i realized i was glad, i could take the time...even though my head feels as though it is splitting open...and my blood sugar at 540 is forcibly closing my eyes and weighing on my chest making it hard to breathe...and i'm overwhelmed about not having a car, and all of the people i'm supposed to follow up with...but right now...in this moment...i'm in conversation with her...and i'm getting a sense of all the people she's talked to just to get to me...and how much time it's taken to get a simple question answered...and i feel that all of the ways i'm running up against a brick wall...is just a momentary experience of all of the challenges this woman has newly found herself in...and i'm humbled at the thought of this...at all i have...and, in this moment, though i've never met her, i can sense her pain...and i find myself leaning into all of her questions, and when i have negotiated all of the best ways i can be of service to her...she exclaims, "you know, i've talked to a lot of people today...and most people have been really mean...i mean, i know people are busy, but they have not been helpful...and i want to thank you, because you've been helpful...and you've taken your time...NO...MORE!! than helpful...and i'm really amazed at how much, how willingly you've helped me...i mean, it really makes a difference! you should know this."...and i don't tell her...and i hope she cannot hear it in my voice, that i'm about to cry...but i tell her with a hushed voice, "that. really means so...very much to me". and "you know, ms....[.......]....isn't it what this is all about? i mean, if you called, and i was rude to you, wouldn't i just really be having a more miserable day? and when we can stop and realize this is all we have...and it's infinitely more beautiful and rich because of the connections we can make with one another, than i have to tell you, honestly, that i am honoured because the pleasure is all mine." and it caused me to consider how often we live in our own heads...i honestly felt very weary picking up the phone...and being bombarded with questions was at this point...a physical and emotional challenge...but even as i am experiencing my own pain...in the moment i could make straight the path for this woman for whom so much has been pain of late...i also felt such a sweet joy. and it doesn't matter all of the ways i feel i lack right now...physically...financially...even emotionally [after so much unexpected transition, of late], i feel as though i am a wealthy, wealthy woman, indeed. rich in love. rich in spirit. [and isn't this all we really need?].

le bon mot du jour: beyond fear lies a state of openheartedness and tenderness.

Confess your hidden faults.

Approach what you find repulsive.

Help those you think you cannot help.

Anything you are attached to, let it go.

Go to places that scare you.

- Advice from her teacher to theTibetan Yogini

Machik Labrön -

tonglen.

breathing in. i take in all of the uncertainty...for everyone all over the world whose life seems beyond their grasp right now. in this moment.
breathing out. i offer peace. the peace that passes understanding. may it flood each and every person's heart. right now. may they be content to just sit with what is.

breathing in. i take in everyone who is facing a seeming insurmountable task or instability. right now.
breathing out. i acknowledge with them. for them. that everything will come together. just. as it should.

breathing in. i take in every heartache for everyone who is brokenhearted.
breathing out. i offer comfort...like a warm wash. may love and peace flood their soul.

breathing in. i take in everyone whose heart gets caught up racing ahead with fear or insecurity about their future.
breathing out. i rest with them. for them. in this sacred moment. now/here.

om mani padme hum.
om mani padme hum.
om mani padme hum.

gratitude for abundance.

for each breath today. thank you.
that my eyes can see today. thank you.
for food and strength to eat today. thank you.
for clothing and shoes and a job to ready for today. thank you.
for every time the world smiles at me today. thank you.
for my heart that feels so deeply even as it is broken. today. thank you.
for the comfort of knowing that even when there was no one to turn to, i was never alone. thank you.
for carrying me - always - like a mother with child. today. i thank you.
for sanctuary like a bird finds shelter in the strong arms of a tree. thank you.
for sweet, sweet, peace when i would grow anxious. thank you.
for even the chance to thank you. i say today. thank you.

deconstructing the dream.

photo by jerry curtis


Tear Down This House

A hundred thousand new houses can be built
from the transparent yellow carnelian buried beneath

and the only way to get to that
is to do the work of demolishing and then

digging under the foundation. With that value
in hand all the new construction will be done

without effort. And anyway, sooner or later this house
will fall on its own. The jewel treasure will be

uncovered, but it won't be yours then. The buried
wealth is your pay for doing the demolition,

the pick and the shovel work. If you wait and just
let it happen, you'll bite your hand and say,

"I didn't do as I knew I should have." This
is a rented house. You don't own the deed.

You have a lease, and you've set up a little shop,
where you barely make a living sewing patches

on torn clothing. Yet only a few feet underneath
are two veins, pure red and bright gold carnelian.

Take the pickaxe and pry the foundation.
You've got to quit this seamstress work.

What does the patch-sewing mean you ask? Eating
and drinking. The heavy cloak of the body

is always getting torn. You patch it with food
and other restless ego satisfactions. Rip up

one board from the shop floor and look into
the basement. You'll see two glints in the dirt.

- rumi -

and i trust in the miraculous provision of the Divine [selah].

and the thing is,
i've been here before
when every possibility of strength
or provision on my part
is swept away
like so many small crumbs on a table
and all that remains,
all i can do,
is trust

i choose. [selah].

photo by teresa willard for miranda july's learning to love you more

i choose to see everything
as working out for my good.

le bon mot du jour: vision.

our real blessings often
appear to us in the shapes of
pains, losses, and disappointments;
but let us have patience, and we soon shall see them
in their proper figures.

- joseph addison [c.1672 - 1719], england -

blessed impermanence.

but a breath
all we have
fleeting moment dawns
and then gone
from flower to seed to flower to dust
everything that now shines
soon will rust