Awakening

Sometimes it is so hard to believe
There will be I time I am not going to be here on planet earth
There will be a time I’ll expire my life will come to an end
Then I will begin a new beginning in Heaven
I believe in God
The afterlife
That we do go on
Sometimes I get so distracted by today
Not really realizing I am here for a limited amount of time
Even if I live to 150
There is a time I will not be here
That takes a lot of mindfulness for me
To hold on to that
I really want to hold on to that

On my walk, I met a neighbor who told me this story. He had an ulcer, and so his stomach had been hurting him. Some of his friends convinced him to go on a men’s retreat with his church.

He reluctantly went, even more reluctantly because they were serving pizza, which would not agree with his stomach. Near the end of the retreat, he was surprised because the leader said, “Let’s pray for Donald.” So everyone laid their hands on Donald and prayed for him.

Afterwards, there was no longer a burning in his stomach. He was completely cured during those few minutes that day.

The woods were filled with many sounds that day: birds singing, leaves rustling, squirrels moving around.

I was painting a picture beside a stream in the late morning. The stream flowed around many large boulders. This view of rocks and water is what attracted me to this place.

Suddenly, everything was quiet. I mean absolutely quiet. Even the water became quiet.

Everything became unexpectedly still. A great hush came over this place. You could hear a pin drop. And so it continued for about 2 minutes. It reminded me of how it is right before a storm.

Why does fire seem so alive?

That flame on a candle seems so peaceful, so meditative -- like it, itself, is putting out a presence.

A candlelit dinner. How charming.

One of the houses I pass on my walk has a gaslight lamp, that always has a flame burning.

I really like that.

I remember sparklers that we would light on the fourth of July. They’d leave a trail of light in the night air.

Perhaps these things remind us of our own sparkling light.

Did you ever go into some place that had an echo?

It’s so hard not be a kid again. Just to play with it: clap, or say “hello”, or whistle, or stomp your feet.

I am so pleasantly surprised to find places that call you back to being curious, in the moment, childlike, wonder. The New York Botanical Gardens has a fabulous tunnel connecting two buildings that’s just perfect for making echoes. Perhaps it just happened that way. I’m grateful.

You just want to play with the situation. All else stops.

I hold open a space for good things to come to me today,

Things that make me smile and remember being a young child,

Where everything was enchanted and unknown,

Like a forest unexplored,

Yet with paths here and there, and beyond.

I invite good surprise into this day today.

I declare I am awake to the hidden world that’s woven into the world we see,

Where my intuition is strong, alert, and deep,

Where I sense the meaning in the smallest of things – a feather on the ground,

And every sign you leave for me.

Pedro was a 97 year old man from Cuba who was always at the Senior Center where my wife goes.

She really liked him and would often talk with him.

He was funny, upbeat, and filled with life, dancing even into his late 90’s.

He died. That day our grandfather clock stopped. The grandfather clock had been running continuously for over a year. A few days later, when I opened it to see what had happened, I saw the chime mechanism was incredibly stuck. I needed a force of about 5 pounds to unstick it. This had never happened before.

I love to see things that are so tangled they defy all logic to untangle or even understand their pattern.

Near our house is a Byzantine church. That in itself is so beautiful when they play the church bells with something like a piano keyboard. Anyhow, there is a huge nettle, a giant, wild hedge with small birds darting in and out.

Hundreds of birds seem to live in there. It is so amazing that they can so quickly and accurately navigate this dense and obtuse tangle of hedge at such a high speed. They must be geniuses.

Let me call upon you now.

Every thought calls you.

Every breath calls you.

As the waves come upon the shore, so do I call you.

Let me feel you press upon me.

Do you stare upon me as I look to see you?

So much is unseen, unheard, unknown, yet surely there.

Lift my senses into the higher realms.

The waiting is over.

I ask for a drop, and you give me buckets, oceans.

Light my way.

Let it be easy and sure and powerful.

You all seem to talk in one voice.

Pathways appear unannounced.

Whole spectrums of realms come into focus.

A higher ground is common.

The pleasantries of everyday increase.

New views appear everywhere.

The ground seems alive.

All pressures relent.

The birds seem synchronized.

A new kind of joy appears.

It is easy to be satisfied.

Whole dominions unite.

Inspiration opens minds to new discovery.

A picture of peace paints itself.

Willingness to change is rampant.

Beacons of light hold sway to the New Earth.