A Window to the Soul

I’m not sure what’s right; how the best way to handle things is. Is honesty always the best policy or is it best to keep one’s thoughts and opinions – feelings – to one’s self.  I know that in retrospect, I wish I had keep a few feelings to myself and not been so open and honest in a recent situation.  The expressing of my feelings, along with some other group actions and events, played a role in starting a negative chain reaction within a group.

Personal relationships are challenging and fragile; group dynamics…even more difficult. 

A friend made mention of this thought last week, “We are each somewhat like a window, with the ability to see out, but at the same time allowing others to see in.” 

Am I guilty of quickly forming opinions while looking out my side of the ‘window,’ but slow to accept what people see when they look in?  Could I…should I have done more to nurture the now-damaged relationship?

As I write today’s post, I am reflecting on what people see when they look ‘in my window.’ Perhaps doing a little soul searching….

Sweetness in the swelter...

It's coming on Summer,
the season of swelter
and I want to open wide to the wonder
and  s---l----o----w this life on down,
going all fluid and free and fascinated,
to live out my art in vivid color
and drink in thanks from every ripe moment.

I want to wander in the mountains with my camera
and hear again the owl in the woods,
to find some new swimming holes
and dance by the light of the moon,

to dab coppertone behind my ears
and munch cilantro plenty from the soil,
to resuscitate my relationship with the local library
and write a good answer to give
when people say what I "should,"

I want to linger longer outside on summer nights
and get over the bugs,
because you can't have one without the other,
and embrace the storms
and paint my toes turquoise
and get more scars,

to fill my arms with farmer's market goodness
for fresh salsa
and cobblers
and to remember how all I need is already here,
to re-purpose, refurbish and restore
what I didn't notice before,
and when I feel empty
to fill up on thanks
and wear the coolest cotton dresses.

I want to let Summer love me,
to take in the sweetness
and not wish it away in the waiting
for gentler times to come,
to take each shot of courage as it comes
and not miss a moment of living
in all the surviving

and,  yes,  I will love you,  Summertime.


  (Summer here in the South can pound pretty hard on me
while I work outdoors;  my business designing , building and tending gardens
keeps me often doing hard labor and hot flashing in the swelter.
We had a rare cool Spring but the beautiful balmy easy-to-breathe air
has gone all Summertime this week
and I'm swimming in peanut butter while I adjust;

love and light to you,  wherever you are)

Heaven

Once I had a conversation with a co-worker about Heaven. The question wasn't about the existence of Heaven, but about whether or not it is a place and therefore should be capitalized, like the name of a city, or whether it was an idea, not unlike a political idea - like democracy.

It was an existential conversation and an intellectual one - you know, the kind that you sit around and talk about how to save the world but not really saving the world.

Today though, I'm going to capitalize the "H" in Heaven because just last weekend, I lost my mother-in-law. Death makes one think of what's beyond this life, at least it does me. I also think that death is all about the living, how we deal with the passing, how we miss the person, how we wonder what kind of difference our own lives make in the lives of others.

Her passing made me think of generational living. One thing I've learned through my walk through this life, is that there's the reality of our lives today, but legacy living means knowing our lives will contribute to future generations. It's what puts value in our existence, why else would we be here? I looked around the room during her funeral at her children, her grandchildren, and her great grandchildren. I couldn't help but wonder about my own life. What would I have taught my own children? Did I make a real and eternal difference with my life?

And I also thought about my desk drawer. If I die tomorrow, and someone had to clean that out - well, I was embarrassed by the messiness. I really did think that.

My mom-in-law lived a good life. She raised four children, all of whom she was proud and bragged to anyone who will listen that all of them graduated college. She had her share of sadness and strife, she was twice widowed and raised my husband, the youngest, on her own. I know it was hard and lonely at times, I've heard it said by her in a voice that was matter-of-fact but yet had a undercurrent of sadness. At the great age of 90, she breathed her last breath and I know that God welcomed her in his arms in that place called Heaven and said, "Well done, my child, well done."

And I do the only thing I know to do when there is nothing else I can do. I pray.

Amen.