Come Alive

Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

A quote by Howard Thurman

I read the above this morning and headed out to my garden. It’s a very warm late September day, maybe the last one that will allow me to be out here comfortably in shorts and tee. I “should” be resting given the bug I’m, on day five, working out of my lungs and body. But the warmth, light breeze and my cat’s contentment in being out with me keep me from retreating in. I was transplanting to fill in some spaces in the part of the rock wall I built this summer. I hadn’t gotten any plants in the last twenty feet or so. So I take pieces of plants, hopefully willing to resettle at this late date, from the earlier rock wall I built a couple of years ago. This bare section has a particularly steep angle with more rock on rock and less dirt in between for plants to grow, than the other part of the wall with a gentler angle.

As I placed a small piece of a vine-like plant into a crevice I hear “Are you sure I can make it here?”

And with full confidence an answer appeared as clearly as the question posed “Yes, you will make it here. You see not every plant is capable of growing in such tight conditions. You have the strength and wisdom to reach past those two rocks and send out shoots to nourish yourself. You would have to be a very special little plant to get picked for the job. Not every plant is up for this. Besides you have no idea how many others will be impressed and helped by your resolve and fortitude. What you will achieve with what you were given will far outseed all expectations.”

“Well alright, if you say so.” “But honestly two rocks? And you want me to be productive and impress too!”

“You have no idea how many others you will affect. It will be hard to see, most of the time, from your vantage point. But I promise you will survive and live long enough to do what you are planted for. You have to trust life.”

“Honestly, it looks like a pretty dim situation. Those are two tough looking rocks; I don’t see much give there, no less any room for me. Are you sure?”

“Sure as can be. And you’ll be surprised by what you can do and what comes along the way.”

“Okay then, I’ll do my best. But you better give me some support.”

“You got it.”

And so a conversation between the little plant and Being of all Plants took place as the little one snuggled in-between two rocks to settle into a life of much fruitfulness, beauty and kindness. Not always easily but with much grace and laughter. But most importantly the little plant found what made her come alive and that is what the world needs.

Mary

A Kitchen

In l975 my mother-in-law from the south was moving in with us for the summers. Our two teenage daughters were growing and taking up much more space. At the suggestion of Aunt Cile, my husband’s aunt, “why not take a jar of homemade plum jam up to Mrs. Perkins, in the next block, to let her know you are interested in buying her house when she retires”. We had heard rumors. And, this she did in the following year, the jam proved beneficial.

It was a five bedroom rambling two-story that needed remodeling back into a single family home. I began on the downstairs kitchen, creating the closest I’ve come to a dream kitchen. First, we exposed two of the double-brick walls, keeping the old solidly build wood cabinets, painting them a white enamel for easy cleaning, using black hinges and handles. A deep, dark red sink with a brass goose-necked faucet was ideal for washing anything, plus canning easily. One of my prizes I found was an old Chambers gas stove from the 1930s for $125. This came from the old Pine Street grocery store at the corner of Pine and Folsom, I am sure few remember this store. It had a griddle, which rolled up exposing the broiler underneath, very strongly built, all clad in stainless steel and white enamel. A warming shelf on top, with a cover for the entire stove, which was rarely used.

There was too much cooking action to keep it covered.

Another part of this kitchen that was loved by all was the breakfast nook. These are almost impossible to find anymore. It was build in an arched alcove with simply carved high benches and a wonderful solid table, two of the pieces which were moveable. Many good times were spent eating and sharing intimacies in this cozy space.

Much to our dismay, we were saddened to learn later owners eventually scraped the nook for a more open space. Maybe there wasn’t as much a need for that kind of warmth and togetherness anymore. Or each generation finds it in their own ways. Just as long as we keep gathering together in our intimate cozy places for sharing our love of food.

Patricia Jordan

Poem - I shroud myself

I shroud myself--
With bright sun light
With noisy wave crash
With damp sand
With sea breeze
With icy pacific--
Seeking decay of that which is dead in me
And revival of the me who walks in harmony.

--Terra Rafael

Close

I am as close as
My own breath
Breathing me into existence,
Moment by moment.

Stay with me now.
I am your lover
Giving you my all,
Now and forever.

Prema Rose

Solitary

Some people have no secrets, no real private parts of themselves they don't reveal to others. Yet there are others who travel alone a lot of their lives. They may have spouses, friends, children and lovers, parents...yet their walk is solitary. In those deeper moments, in those deeper places, where no one accompanies them, they keep to themselves. They may look for a kindred spirit, and if they are lucky, they may find one or two in a lifetime. This is also rare.
Does one choose this type of life or does the life choose them?

Jyoti

Every Once in a While

Every once in a while, maybe once in a whole lifetime, you come upon an un-livable relationship. It may be a friend, a family member, a spouse, a child… often it is a family member and you feel you cannot slam the door completely for the sake of others. So you let it go on year after year.

 

Looking back you realize you have poured massive amounts of your life’s blood into the relationship. It has been your choice. It is always your choice. You worked years, decades, and eons to make it workable. You do it because you believe in truth and honesty. Your mistake is in believing that everyone is looking for truth and honesty.

 

 Over time you found yourself standing on your head, turning summersaults, dancing in circles all in the name of this relationship. You soldiered on brave, courageous and incredibly stupid letting things fly on by. Things you knew you should not but in the name of relationship (yet, again) you did. You longed to believed the lies because you wanted this person to turn it around, get a brain, make a step in the right direction… Over and over again you put up with the garbage rather than take it to the dump because maybe, just maybe, this time…  what?

 

It got old, it ran its course, things cooled off and you found yourself thinking, okay, give it one more go. Maybe this time… Then there you are in the flick of a butterfly’s wing back in the destructive game and you are not winning. You are never going to win this game that has no end.

 

The relationship is sinister and evil. It is an addiction: alcohol, drugs, disease, mental illness, all of these rolled into one sweet package. It does not care about you or all your years of trying. Not one teeny tiny bit. Zip. Nada. Nunca. Nothing. The addiction will always win if you continue on.

 

You are fighting for the righteous, for the best in people. The dragon is out there to be slain so you get up every morning of every day. You know that you can be the absolute best person possible if you just leap up and do heroic acts every single day, after day, after day. And so you do.

 

If this essay seems overly repeated, boring and a little uncomfortable you are right. Couldn’t be more right… almost funny, huh? Not really.

 

Will you ever give it up? Do it for your sanity. Give it up. It will never work. Let her go gently into that good night. And, may she rest in peace.

Jesse

 

 

 

 

 

Barely Autumn Saturday

It is Saturday afternoon; after a string of cold dreary days, it is a drop dead gorgeous warm and sunny day. I have appraisal work to set at my computer and work up; things that have to be delivered before I can travel to Wisconsin in a few days, but I cannot stay inside. I make peace with that calling and surrender to the beautiful day. A girlfriend drove over in the late morning and we went to the Sugarbeet Festival. It was small and rural and charming. They had food, live bands, a tractor pull, and the local farmers who own the sugar beet co-op had information booths. I was surprised and pleased to see how many products contain sugar from our local harvest. I asked one of the women and she said that if the package does not say “from cane” then it is made with sugar beets. I will pay more attention, no offence Hawaii.

Back at home, I tried to start my push mower to no avail. A couple dropped by to talk about boarding horses, a mare and a three month old filly. That would be fun I think. They were nice folks and my place is within their search range. As they left I went over and my riding mower started right up, thankfully. I am hoping to mow my lawn for the last time this season and I had wanted to use the push mower ~ it is a crisper cut and I can get in places that I cannot get with my rider. But I putted around and did a pretty good job; mowing the lawn puts me into that alpha state of mind, kind of like meditating and I relax into it. I drove the mower into the shed and got out my weed eater to clean up the edges but I could not get it started either. I allowed myself to daydream for a few minutes on how awesome it would be to have a fellow who could help me with this aspect of my sweet life on this little farm. And it will be…...

I went inside and drank a glass of water and slid on a pair of old jeans. Outside, I called to my sweet horse and she came to see what I was doing. We played for a while, a new technique we learned a few weeks ago at an all day clinic. I climbed on bareback and rode around the property for a while, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the warmth of her body, and the warmth that spread from my heart to the rest of the universe. Did you feel it?

I led Lakota over to a place in the yard that I could not get to with my mower. The grass was tall and lush and I thought she might like it. I went inside to get a drink and my pruning shears. As my horse finished “mowing” my yard, I pruned the brown seed heads off my lilac bushes and sipped my drink.
The sun is sinking towards the mountains ~ my view from here is spectacular.
In this moment, I have everything that I need.

* annette