Grounded: Day 1

Ash Wednesday

In my tradition, it is the practice to have worship in the evening on Ash Wednesday, during which ashes in the shape of a cross are rubbed on our foreheads. The ashes are often made by burning the branches of the Christmas trees used during the Advent/Christmas. I have always admired that connection between the birth and the death of Jesus even if it is a bit contrived.

Today is Ash Wednesday, 2020 and once again I have ashes on my forehead. Tomorrow, my book group is going to begin reading "Grounded: Finding God in the World" by Diana Butler Bass. I'm kind of excited that tonight I got grounded, as in dirt rubbed into my face; a reminder of the reality that life is death and death is life. It is a reminder to me that I am of the earth, and that I also am part of the cycle of life that includes dying so that life might continue.

It's a mystery for sure, this dying to live thing. And I don't have all the answers. And I'm sure Diana Butler BAss doesn't either. But I look forward to this time of Lent, when I will give the inward journey a bit more attention and intention.

The term "grounded" is interesting. What does it mean to you to be "grounded?"
What grounds you? How can you build a practice of grounding into your life, a way for you to remember the source of your life, a way to reach in and find nourishment for your soul?

--just jules, 2/26/2020

TWO PERSPECTIVES --7 YEARS APART

Checking out life at age 53

My True Self Isn't Always Comfortable (May 29, 2012) 

[I was 53 years old when I wrote this]

Sometimes I wish it wasn't true...that I wouldn't melt so easily...that I could do whatever I wanted without fear, without concern...that I wouldn't be afraid of consequences or how my actions might affect those I love...but then i wouldn't be me. And as it turns out, I am me, so my heart rules, love is more important than being right, kindness is more important that winning, creativity is more important than perfection, making a difference is more important that making a buck. Sometimes I wish I could play by the rules of "getting ahead, being successful, getting recognized, belonging" but then i wouldn't be me. And still, sometimes riding the tension between the extremes gets tiring, sometimes.

Making Friends with My True Self at Sixty (May 29, 2019)

Nearly three months into turning 60, I am loving it. It is not without challenges but mostly I love it. What I am noticing more and more is a growing comfort in my own skin, a growing confidence in the unique set of attributes that make me, me. I'm making friends with my true self. It's kind of amazing! 

Of course this didn't just happen all of a sudden at 60 though. It happened because seeds were planted, watered and cared for. It happened because God and I worked together to let go, to remove the weeds as I had the strength to do so (those lies that were choking me out). Some of that work was hard. Some was joyful. It happened because friends, over a sustained period of time, either showed me who I don't want to be or who I clearly want to be. It happened because someone besides me believed in me and took the time to show up. It was a collaborative effort! 

Inviting the fog to lift and the true self to emerge

And now some things about my true self have become clear. I notice that after a lifetime of hiding my voice in the back of the choir, I am truly happy and at home with my singing voice. It is enough and I don't need it to be more. I just love singing. I notice that even though I never thought I would teach, I love teaching! And even in the challenge and doubt of whether I am doing it right, I love how preparing to teach makes me focus on what's most important, it makes me the best me. I notice that when I read things I wrote 15 to 20 years ago, I love that old me too, even though she still had tons of angst. 

I'm still growing. I'm still making friends with pieces of the puzzle that I have only just discovered. There is more true self to come. And, I still dance with my false self from time to time, when the lies of loneliness and sorrow get a little loud. Even so, I heartily recommend getting older. So far, I'm thinking it's a really good deal! 

May the gift of aging be that you make friends with yourself!

~just jules 

Strangers in Our Own Land

I wonder if we're aren't all strangers
in our own land
throughout our lives
wondering how anyone
could be as strange as we are
seems like it takes a lifetime
to accept the embrace of enough
that being ourselves is enough

when I look at you,
I never think,
"you should be more"
I just think,
"What exquisite beauty!
What luck that I have met you!"

perhaps it is time to offer ourselves
the same kindness
to open our arms up
to our own strangeness
welcome our own beauty

just a thought....from jules

Peace Be

So last night as I was falling asleep, I thought of something that belonged on my to-do list that I keep forgetting. I had such a great sleep last night, best one in a long time, but I was kicking myself for not getting up and writing that forgetful item down. I have NO idea what it was!

In an effort to remember, I decided to sit down and run through my whole TO-DO list on paper. It is a good practice for me to once in a while sit and write it all down. I wondered too, what other things I might be forgetting. And now I'm wondering when I am going to do all that and if I really do all that? My goodness! Life so easily fills in the blanks, that I might have to get better at scheduling space for thought and reflection.

So, I wish I could remember what I forgot AND I'm also grateful that the reason I forgot is that I had one of the best rests last night. I am so grateful to wake up refreshed. I think a good sleep might be one of life's best treasures.

And I'm grateful for having a life, however messy and weird it might be. I have a life to live and that's a good thing even if I can't do it all.

And I'm grateful for my young friend who came over yesterday and inspired me with her creativity and incredible presence and her truth. Thank you.

So, peace to the forgetful mind. It'll likely come back to my consciousness when I least expect it but if it doesn't, the world won't end. Life will go on.

And peace to this day. Just a little love and kindness will get us through.

And peace to all who are struggling with something today. A little prayer will help. (I know all your prayers help me)

And peace to my neighbor who just stopped by for a moment just now. She need some tea and I was happy to be able to provide her with some. I am grateful for her presence on my block.

And peace to my friends far and wide who have either asked for my support or provided support for me when I have asked. We all need a little help from our friends. We really do. We're not going to finish this race without that.

So I started with being frustrated at myself and my forgetfulness and end with gratitude for the richness of friends and neighbors, the gift of sleep and a little kindness and the healing that comes with a little prayer.

And that's why I like the practice of journaling and blogging and even the occasional Facebook post. It can help us find the gifts, if we give ourselves the time and space.

Peace be with you this day!

love, jules

GRATITUDE MONTH #29: CHALLENGES

This is my second to the last entry in my Gratitude Month challenge. I've mentioned beauty, wonder, grace and sweet people but I haven't talked about challenges. What about life's mess and life's challenges? Am I grateful for those? Not always. Sometimes I run as fast as I can from those. But when I do stay, when I do welcome the challenge and sit with the discomfort, I find I am grateful. 

Wait! What? 

Yes, I said grateful. I'm thankful for the challenge.

Let me see if I can give a couple examples:

• In part of my life, I'm a computer, graphic design, desktop publisher, website person. That means that sometimes my coworker is a computer that refuses to listen to a word I say or do a single thing that I want. And that challenges me, to try harder, to think farther outside the box and sometimes to ask for help. It challenges me to ask for the excellence and connection I desire. And that's something I'm not good at in all of the my life. I have a lot to learn about asking for, demanding the excellence that I know can be (Not perfection but also not sloppiness). The idiot of a machine helps me celebrate the beautiful vision I have inside. 
• Some of my life is focused on relationships; family, extended family, friends. Relationships are messy at best and devastating at their worst. I hate conflict! But when I don't run, when I stay for the struggle and sit with the discomfort, when I stay to listen to the other's story and  ask the hard questions: "what is the most loving thing to do now? " I learn that there is oh so much more to love and grace than I could possibly have imagined.
• 150 boxes--Last year I went through and got rid of most of the contents of 150 boxes in my basement. That was very challenging, one of the hardest things I've ever done. It felt like ripping band aids off every day. I wanted so many times to just walk away and just let the stuff be there like it always had been. but I stayed and I kept at it and one day, I realized that letting go felt better than hanging on and now I have breathing space and an extra play space for my grandchildren. It gives me hope that i can let go again in the future and even more space will open up.
• Grief--I think the best challenge has been sitting with grief...both my own and others. We want so badly to smooth it over, make it feel better. But when I sit gently on the couch with grief for awhile, I realize how precious the people are that I've lost and my compassion for how much I've had to say goodbye grows. And self-compassion does a lot for healing and finding peace! I am grateful for all the wonderful lessons grief has taught me.

Yep! that's me hiking the cliffs at Devil's Lake St. Park, WI

I guess what I'm trying to say is that the hardest, mostly challenging things to work for have held the key to something I really value, something that ultimately I am deeply grateful for. Like climbing the mountain is worth it for the view and perspective AND to discover I am strong enough to get there!

Then suddenly the challenge becomes part of the abundance. And that's a divine grace in my book! I think that's part of how God's love redeems us, by turning the struggle into a gift.

GRATITUDE MONTH--#23: MYSTERIOUS MARVELOUS HOPE

GRATITUDE MONTH #23: Mysterious Marvelous Hope

I wake up to the light of a rising sun
Already my subconscious is calling me to the LIST
Already nagging me about how far behind I am
Could I go any slower? 
The obvious answer is yes!

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes
I ignore the piles I must walk around
to get to the next part of my day
Some days my life just seems
Like one long to-do list
Running through a never-ending pile
Of life's stuff

Then suddenly, the fog lifts 
I find myself working on a project
that's been on hold for two years!?!
It is a complete mystery to me
how this has come about 
And yet here I am making progress
AT LAST! and it feels GREAT!

The patience of our better selves
The patience of grace to plow through the mess
The tenacity of hope for the dream
I wish I could claim credit for it
But I can't. It's a divine grace.

I can only work with gratitude
for the energy and motivation
to tackle the task in the now!
I can only pray for more of this
MYSTERIOUS MARVELOUS HOPE
and the strength to follow through.

with gratitude for this day,

jules

LOOKING FOR LIGHT AND LOVE

So something horrible happened yesterday and we can't ignore it. And something wonderful happened yesterday but we might have missed it. It is ever so subtle and yet powerful how each time tragedy strikes, our hearts grow a tiny bit closer to each other. We let down our shields for a moment and feel compassion. We open the door just a little bit more to the idea that we are connected, that we are truly one world neighborhood. In that brief moment before we've moved on to the next thing, love has a chance to grow. It doesn't feel wonderful but it is. Why? Because we need compassion in order to get to action, in order to get to peace. Because if a flame of love is ignited in each of us, we might just have enough light to find our way. I know it doesn't make sense. And please don't misunderstand. I'm not trying to gloss over the tragedy. It is indeed a devastating thing, one that will echo in our conversations for years to come, as others have. It is just that I hope the echo is love. Perhaps it's not possible to explain. All I know is that my heart has been broken through tragedy and loss, sometimes to the point of complete surrender. And each time, in that moment after I surrendered to the brokenness, when I put my hands up in despair, that's when the love came pouring in, from friends, from strangers, from the Spirit. That's when the love has grown the most. Leonard Cohen's "Anthem" consoles us with this phrase: "there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in." That's where I feel a nudge to go today, to look for the light coming through the crack. So here we are again. Can you feel it? Where will love lead us now? What if we let our lights shine together?

Bitter and Sweet

Life is bittersweet at its heart, perhaps at its best. For it is in those moments of deepest sorrow or pain that we also are suddenly keenly aware of the amazing gifts and beauty of our lives.

I'll never ever forget the 16 months we had with our son Hans after he was diagnosed with stage 4 brain cancer (glioblastoma multiforme) the summer between his 4th and 5th grade years. I can't remember the excruciating pain without also remembering it as one of the best times of our lives. Being faced with the total and complete vulnerability of life for each of us (no matter how healthy) made all those unimportant squabbles and desires melt away. Money and success and being right ceased to matter. All that mattered was love and the moments.

Hans following one of his surgeries.

In some ways it seemed like time stopped. We suddenly had time to enjoy each other and be with each other in ways we hadn't before. We celebrated every day we had together. We went camping, biking, played games, laughed, hung out with extended family. We talked, we sang, we prayed. We hugged and cuddled. We fell in complete love with each other. Honestly, it was an amazing time for us. We lived with joy. Each day was so precious that we closed with a ritual of good night with blessing and goodbye.

Of course, one day we did say goodbye forever as Hans moved on to the next life. (September 28, 2000) And of course there was some pretty wrenching and dark days of mourning to follow. But even those gave birth to a deeper sense of gratitude and honor for this sweet person we were privileged to have among us, even for a short time. And eventually that expanded to a deeper gratitude for all of life, however flawed it is.

What I'm trying to say, is that the bitter and the sweet are so closely tied, that I can't separate them. I'm not arguing for cause and effect, just for the constant companionship of them both in my life. Bitter whispers in one ear with how tragic life is and Sweet sings in the other how fantastic and amazing it is. And peace grows in me, I am transformed, as I learn to dance with both these partners.

Peace!
Jules, 9/2/2016

First steps

sweet chubby bare feet cutting their first paths across the hardwood floor arms out for balance and reaching my grandson learning to walk and climb and tumble and bump into things which I find so encouraging inspired again in my own journey to take the path accept the bumps and falls and rise again strong daring greatly sparkling eyes grin his mouth opens in wonder and I'm inspired again to enjoy the moment wallow in the joy of it living life as it comes
every step another adventure ~grandma jules, 8/25/16

TWO WORKSHOPS COMING THIS FALL

Hello my dear friends!

I am so excited to be offering 2 workshops this fall! Both workshops are designed to be experiential. You will get a chance to try some new ways of thinking, writing and listening. You will go home with things you can use in your everyday life.

• Saturday, September 24th--Writing as Spiritual Practice--come and have some fun writing to free your inner voice! This one is with yours truly--Julie (jules) Bonde CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFORMATION AND TO REGISTER. 

• Saturday, October 29th--The Art of Listening--join me and Joyce Finch as we practice better ways of listening and communicating! CLICK HERE FOR MORE INFORMATION AND TO REGISTER. 

I hope you will be able to join us! If you are interested in either of these but can't make these dates, please let me know at madjules@gmail.com. I/we plan to offer both workshops later. Also stay tuned for a Writing-Part 2 workshop.

blessings on your listening!
jules

Hold that Thought Please!

Here comes that inspiration.
What a wonderful train of thought!
I'm running down to the station to meet it
Let's write it down, then let's do it.
But on the way I get distracted.
I wander off to check out something else.
I start making tea to drink while I write.
The phone rings and I answer.
I remember I'm thirsty so back to the tea
Now where was I?
Uh-oh! the train has the left the station.
And the inspiration did not get off!
It's gone!
I hate it when my brain doesn't hold the thought for me
Perhaps when the next train comes I'll be ready?
Perhaps...

(true story written by jules, 8/17/16)

The Basement Excavation: the 100th Box!

“Letting go is hard (really hard) but sometimes holding on is harder.” ~ Anonymous quote.

“Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on” ~ Eckhart Tolle

What's the greater risk? Letting go of what people think - or letting go of how I feel, what I believe, and who I am? Brene Brown

_______________________________________________________

(NOTE: I did not say last box...I said 100th box!)

Today, just today, I went through my 100^th box! Of the boxes I have gone through, I have emptied 62 boxes! This means that most of those 62 boxes has ended up in the recycling bin by our garbage…and a few have made it to the thrift store. I am 8 weeks in to my commitment to attack 2 boxes per day. Of the boxes that are not empty, an additional 15 are scheduled to be given to other people; mostly old Malagasy books. And though I still have umpteen photo/negatives/slide boxes to go through, I am pausing to celebrate my progress.

Wow! The 100^th box! When I started I was very skeptical about getting even this far. I didn’t even count the boxes past 100 because I never believed I’d make it that far. This is amazing, so miraculous! I am not even sure that I can take credit for it even though I have felt each box in my bones and heart as I’ve sorted and emptied. A lot of tears have been shed. A lot of deep breaths have been let go. There have been many days when the instinct to hold on was stronger than the the need to let go. I can honestly say I am getting better at it though. Little by little I’m beginning to feel the power of letting go like Eckhart Tolle says in his quote (see above). Little by little, I am beginning to notice that along with the stuff, I’m letting go of old definitions of strength, of family, of connections. I’m letting go of what people think, of perceived expectations and focusing more on what I need to do to be healthy, what my family needs. Little by little, I am beginning to believe that my life after this will be freer, lighter; that I won’t be carrying this burden of stuff so I’ll have room to give more of my heart to other adventures.

So I am nearing the end of going through boxes of papers (which were mostly letters and scrapbook savings). Soon I will be going through a couple dozen boxes of old photos/slides/negatives. As I head that direction, I want to offer my gratitude to all of those who have offered me support and understanding in this process. I never dreamed I would get this far. Thank you!

~Jules

The Basement Excavation: Pushing through the Wall

Often when we go on a diet, we lose a lot of weight in the first couple weeks. The first ten pounds are pretty easy, although we have worked hard at the new habit of either not eating or eating healthier. It's great! We are proud of ourselves with good reason. We're making progress. It makes us want to keep going, to lose more but then something happens. Our body slows down the weight loss. The needle on the scale doesn't move. We hit the dieting wall. We work just as hard but with less results. Sigh!

Clearing my basement has been like going on a diet. It's been hard and it's been rewarding up to a point. At first it felt like I was making progress, emptying boxes. But as the days rolled on, it got harder. Four weeks into my 2-box-a-day commitment it began to feel like nothing was happening at all. I kept doing the work but it kept feeling messy, lost and confusing. Like the kid in the back seat, I kept wanting to ask, "Are we there yet? when are we going to get there?" Ugh! I have some days where I just wanted to close the basement door and forget it. Then I got sick with a cold this last week and that about undid the whole thing for me. Like in the beginning I would walk down the stairs, look around and then just come right back up. I really needed some new energy.

Fortunately for me a solution presented itself. Our son and daughter-in-law (Karl & Erica) live nearby. They are working on a project at their house too so we decided to do an exchange of help. So yesterday I got my burst. For the first time since I started the project, we were able to move furniture around and begin to create the new areas. We also did some deep cleaning as we moved things. The result makes the clearing much more real. Now when I look around, I can see the open spaces. It feels good. It feels like I might have actually done something. I still feel the burden of how much is left to do but I feel a renewed sense of commitment.

We will over time meet several walls in our lives. Some of these walls will be "dark nights of the soul." Some will just be piles of  laundry or bills to pay. I confess there have been times when I sensed a wall and just turned myself around and went a different direction. It's hard to go through the walls, be in the discomfort long enough, sweat a few drops, get dirty and weary. But we don't necessarily have to do it alone. We can get help. It is amazing how much easier it is to push through that wall when we have someone willing to stand next to us, to be in it with us.

I pray that you will have someone willing to stand with you when you face your wall.

love, jules

Prelude to the Basement Excavation project.

Introduction: On February 10, Ash Wednesday, I made a commitment to dig in and clean out all the stuff in my basement. I've been putting it off for a long time and it seems like Lent is as good a time as any to make this attempt. I'm petrified and I'm determined. I thought I'd share some thoughts about the process along the way. If you believe in prayer or wishes, please send some courage my direction. Thanks, Jules

The Basement Excavation: Prelude

I take a few steps down, turn and go back up.
can I? once I start, will I have the strength? the courage to finish?
It will be an even bigger mess before I get to the good part.
I will have to face my grief, my nostalgia, my sentimentality.
I will have to face my tears.
Can I? Will I?
I really want to.
I really need to.
It feels like it is time.
I start down the stairs again, determined to go all the way down.
I wander around the boxes, overwhelmed as usual.
"Break it down" they always say as if it's that easy.
"Do it in small chunks" they say as if I even know what the chunks are.
"if you haven't used it in a year, you don't need it." they say, a saying which totally ignores all the precious relationships those things represent
People think stored stuff is just about cleaning.
It is much more than that.
No one tells you how to deal with the grief when it rises.
no one tells you how to let go.
It's like diving off the high dive.
I suspect I'll survive but I'm not sure it will feel as exhilarating as they say.
I open my first box and surprisingly find something I can toss right away.
There is hope.

God help me...
Here I go....beginning to uncover more than a decade of stuff buried in my basement.

I mean it God...Please help me!

a beautiful mistake

I can see her smile still, with the gentlest twinkling eyes behind it, long blonde hair and cute pink dress. Her natural ease as she sat down made me think she was much older than her 8 years. This little angel sat next to me and we became sweet friends but none of it would have happened if I hadn't goofed.

As I was boarding my plane yesterday, I was talking on the phone with a friend. I knew my seat number and when I saw it, I stopped and threw my backpack in an overhead bin and crawled into my seat, barely missing a beat in the conversation with friend on the phone. We talked for a bit and just as we were saying goodbye, this little girl crawled in and sat next to me in the middle seat. Her mother was in the seat in front of her. I had seen them in the terminal. They were flying on standby and took the seats that were available to them. The little girl's sister was in a seat across the aisle.

As she sat down, I greeted my travel mate with an enthusiastic "hi...how lucky am i to have you sit next to me." She smiled back sweetly and innocently. After she settled, we began talking. About 5 minutes later, a man came along asking if my seat was 41F.  I said "no, my seat is 42F," and then realized I was in the wrong seat. Fortunately he was nice enough to let me stay. He sat in 42F. And I breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn't have to leave my new friend.

We didn't exchange names at first. We started with bigger stuff, like where we traveling, what our favorite school subjects were and things like that. I had heard most of her life story before I even knew her name. Turns out she'd been on a plane about every 2 months since she'd been born. Her dad was a pilot and her mom a flight attendant. That's how they had met. They married shortly before she was born. They had lived several places, had family around the country and traveled a lot. We talked about how her little sister was kind of  "stealing" her friends and how she was going on a trip to Florida with her best friend while her sister would be going to Hawaii with two of her other friends. I was just amazed at how eloquently she shared her story.

She told me how at first she loved flying, especially because she would get car sick. Flying was easier and not so hard. that is, until a couple of months ago. They were flying threw a storm and for about 15 minutes, it was pretty bumpy ride. Since then, flying is rather terrifying for her. Here she is telling me all this and i'm thinking she's the calmest, most mature little 8-year-old I ever met. I'm thinking she does not look scared. Her eyes keep telling me all is well and that I am a welcome guest.

I took my zentangle kit and started drawing. She enjoyed watching me and we talked about how she liked art. She was very encouraging of my efforts to draw. Later, when I was writing on my computer, she took out her colored pencils and I watcher her. It was my turn to be impressed. When the drink cart came by she refused to have a treat, explaining that she had spilled the drink all over herself once and didn't want that to happen again. Eight years old and already she's make some pretty detailed decisions about her life based on mistakes and mishaps.

I did eventually speak with her mom a little. And we all held hands as we dove through the clouds to our landing. It was the first time I saw how scared she really was. "Laura" was grateful and so was her mom as was I. The four hour flight zipped by and I felt light and easy as I disembarked. I saw them one more time in the terminal as they caught up with Grandma who was waiting for them. It is my prayer that they will have many, many safe and joyful travels in their future.

I still can't believe my luck in having Laura sit next to me and all of it because I made a mistake and sat in the wrong seat.

LIFE IS JUST MESSY

This idea that if we are on the right track, all things align and if we are on the wrong track, all things are bumpy is a myth. Bad things happen to bad people and to good people.. Life is just messy. I am no more immune from these mishaps than you. What we perceive as good things happening, also seems to be sometimes random and sometimes purposeful.

Breathe easy my friend. We are all in this mess together. The magic is not in the success or failure but in the way LOVE flows through us, bringing healing in every situation, bringing wholeness and connection. The magic is not that I didn't get ill this winter but that through the illness my heart was drawn to tenderness and trust and love once again. The miracle is that when I needed it, my body told me to rest and I listened.

I don't mean to keep repeating myself about my experience with Hans but I learned a lot from that day in 1999 when the radiologist told me my 10-year-old son had a brain tumor. Up to that point, I had all the ingredients of a "successful" and "blessed" life--happy marriage to my best friend, wonderful healthy children, enough money to allow me to stay home with them, an active church community, good schools, and good friends and nearby family. I thought I had it made. Does the cancer and all the fall-out from it mean that I was on the wrong track? Does the fact that my son died, 16 months later, mean that my prayers weren't heard? and the list of questions goes on.

This is an extreme example and that's why I bring it up. When I look back on my son's life and death and all that has transpired since, all I feel is love and gratitude. Would I take my son back in heartbeat? YES. Would I trade places with him? YES> Would I trade my heart back to that woman i was before he he got cancer? NO. LOVE prevailed even if luck did not. Certainly then, Love can overcome my error on those days when it seems like all I do is folly and the entire universe seems to be calling me a "loser!"

I believe in a force more powerful than any mistake I can make or evil that can fall upon me. I believe in God's creative and redeeming LOVE, a force so amazing that it even touches the crazy and tangled Jules...me!

Sending you love and grace,

jules

The Gift of Restlessness

Had I known that sitting down to meditate would only rev my mind up, I would have skipped the exercise altogether and just gone on with my day. I kept trying, trying to let myself just be in the moment, in the silence and empty myself in the way that has so often brought me closer to God but this morning it was not to be. I was not able to just be. Or was I?

Could it be that sometimes my being is all about doing? Perhaps when I am following my heart and mind and body into action, I am also being.

Sometimes before I can can sit in the emptiness, I have to work some of the fullness off. Maybe my restlessness is not mistake but a call to action. After a time in bed convalescing from an illness, followed by a lovely retreat away, I am full! I want to get things done.

Maybe you too, have berated yourself for not being able to be still. I invite you to join me in listening to the restless and asking what desire is burning to be expressed in action. What work needs to be done? What creativity needs to be expressed? What voice needs to be heard?

Where Everything Meets

Thought for the day/week/month:

"In our most authentic experience of faith, everything we know and have experienced meets and we look for  wisdom and understanding in it. Questions love stopping in for these precious moments." ~ Jules

One Week

Sunday

peaceful sun dancing through the leaves
providing a laser show on my wall
early paddles splashing across the lake
wisdom and song and hearts shared
through the ritual of spiritual community
family time, home time, 
a campfire song fest for the 21st century
friend time, community time
Sunday (9/7/14)

Monday
cold gray gloomy day
the alarm of tasks unfinished wakes me
somber stillness outside
hyper vigilant multitasking dragonflies
flitting about my brain inside
focus and produce is the goal
yesterday's hours with a friend were too short
today's hours of work seem too long
Monday (9/8/14)

Tuesday
an obscure day of the week
not the beginning nor the hump, 
nor the celebrated end
just an in between place
where all is not lost and all is not found
where time seems to stall 
the clouds and rain seem to know 
so I'll tempt the chiropractor to fix the kinks
lunch on the sunshine of friendship
then jump back into the fray and take my chances
the gray continues with a threat of blessing
Tuesday  (9/9/14)

Wednesday 
hump implies that we climbed up 
and now we are going to slide down, easily
although i am doubting the "easy"
but perhaps it is a camel's hump or a Brahman cow
perhaps hump means this is where the reserves are
maybe today holds the extra something
that we need to get through the rest of the week
I'm going to look under ever seat cushion
and up in every tree
I bet I'll find that extra something somewhere
Wednesday (9/10/14)

Thursday 
almost there
excited spirits lifted
like the pink at sunrise
amid the breaking clouds
there is something so wonderful
about almost reaching the end
hope rises for a moment over coffee
or early happy hours at the local tavern
plans are being made for the fun ahead
is my attention span so small for the week?
the phone rings, the timer beeps
there is still work to be done
so I'm diving back in
resolving
sigh
Thursday (9/11/14)

  

Friday
Finally! Right?
the day God gets the most kudos for
because we say our work week ends here
but now that it's here am I satisfied?
I feel a slight shift in pressure
from getting work done 
to being able to have a good time
often forgetting to plan for my fun
and within that failure
is the gift of a quiet evening
with my beloved
by the fire
Friday (9/12/14)

Saturday 
sleep in? not me
wake up early
for a long day of rest
or gettin' chores done
or going to events
it's the day many get to be
for better or worse
their own boss
like it or not
you can't do it all
on this one day
so hope this time around
it was fun
Saturday 9/13/14

Epilogue
Every day is another 24 hours

to notice, to ponder, to wander

to give and take

to love and forgive

to connect and cherish each other

to celebrate the life you have

to dream of delight and flowers

sing another song, dance another jig

Every day is hello and goodbye

YES and Oops! and oh Well!

and THANK YOU!

Everyday--Gratitude

~take care, Jules

Wandering Off

I am one of the messy ones
wandering off the smooth road,
to smell flowers or greet a toad,
keeping the pace is daunting to me
left, right, left, right,
instead, I, distracted by the dance
the extra beat of the drum,
the heart murmur that longs for the song,
skip a step

there are others
who keep the march going
left, right, left, right
tending to the daily tasks as if
the chore is as pleasing
as painting a masterpiece

meantime,
not quite in line,
not really out of line,
I reach off the edge
grabbing hands and hearts,
celebrating high fives with the trees,
whistling tunes with the birds,
occasionally coming back for a few steps
on the straight and narrow
left, right, left, right,

and then wandering off again
studying the language of flowers,
learning the wisdom of thunderstorms,
planting seeds of hope,
where trees of love will someday grow,
to shade the travelers yet to come

grateful for the others
whose steady devotion
gives me a plumb line
to guide my wandering way

I love this blessed messy life!

jules, 8/9/2014