Stress
A four letter word
Opps it’s a five letter word
Boy am I stressed out
Relax
I don’t know how
One thing at a time
I’m cooking, paying bills and watching tv all at the same time
Hurry I'm late
I’m early
I forget my appointment
My appointed is cancelled
I’m already there
Ugh hurrying
always messes me up
I forget where I am going
I forget how to get there
Why do I always get company when my house is a mess
I thought I said the right thing
I say the wrong thing
Yikes
I lost my cell phone

You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts. And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart, you live in your lips. And sound is a diversion and a pastime.

And in much of your talking, thinking is half-murdered, for thought is a bird of space, that in a cage or words may indeed unfold its wings, but cannot fly.

I sincerely thank whoever discovered the muffin.

There is something really irresistible about a muffin – all kinds of muffins.

Others may love their croissant, but I love my muffin.

Right away, I think of muffins wrapped in red and white checked gingham in a honey-colored wicker basket. I think of New England or charming European villages with fresh baked breads. I think of the open hearth, with a log fire, at the center of a home.

It’s so primal – food – eating – our daily bread.

Have you ever needed to be still?
Not to be disturbed but be left all alone?
Some people are afraid to be alone.
They fear the quiet, that space.

Other’s revel in it.
In that quiet contemplative space much may occur.
Or nothing feels like it is happening.
It may be just dead silence.

What is good is to realize often when we would like to be still,
We just avoid it
Or when we are forced to be still, for example, like an illness,
We appreciate what we had.

It’s amazing to see the kind of plaything a child loves and craves. For example, a big empty cardboard box. A little snip here and there and presto, a small house, or a store, or a spaceship.

Their imagination is so intense and vast and immediate – that it can go way beyond the “stuff” in front of them, and “grow” their own little world.

I love stained glass windows. The colors are so luminescent, especially deep blues with glints of deep red. The windows glow.

The fragments of glass set in lead, all fit together, like a poetic puzzle. All the glowing pieces are bordered in dull silvery lead, as if someone outlined everything in the picture.

They are huge and intricate, often mounted high up. Sometimes I go into a church just to be inspired by the stained glass windows, and smell the incense, and see the candles.

It was the end of fall, and we put out a pumpkin on the front steps for the squirrels to enjoy.

A large chubby squirrel came up and started eating it. He was not shy, or perhaps he was too awestruck by such a wonderful feast appearing for him out of the blue.

In any case, we slowly opened the front door so only the storm door, a full pane of glass, stood between us and him. We were one foot away as he continued to chew his way thru the pumpkin – to the point at which he was able to sit inside it and eat all around himself.

Hmmm a square peg going into a round hole?
Where do I fit in
Where do I fit in in life
It’s like
What’s my purpose
I don’t know
I just feel like I am
I’m not getting it
I don’t seem to be
You know just really creating what I want in my life
Or in the world
I just feel like
I am just existing
I am not doing my part
It is not about doing
It is about being
It is not what you can accomplish
It is really about how you feel
How you go about your day
How you view your self
Do you have to have everybody love you

Introduction

John:

I’m here today with Matt Del Rosario. Matt, I met you at the Newtown Senior Center. Unexpected, unannounced. I was there for something totally different, and you walked in, and invited a group of us to join you in a class. Could you please tell us about that class. It was the most amazing moment experienced in about a thousand years.

Matt speaks:

Thank you so much. So the class that you got experience is called Hula Noho, which is a seated Hula class, or a Hawaiian form of storytelling through dance and music.

Listen to that sound
The sound of those waves hitting the shore
Just coming in
The coming out
Just The heavenly sounds
The planes now flying over head
The birds making a chirp
Think of all the noises we hear in a day
What kind of noises are we paying attention to
Are we listening to the children’s laughter
The breezes that hit our cheeks
The drops of rain that fall
All the things
That just hear nature at its finest
What are we paying attention to
What kind of chatter is going on in our mind