Relaxation

There is something about winter which I really love.

It feels sleepy, resting, in a sense meditating.

It seems to give an upspoken permission to just relax – to have some time for yourself.

All the colors are muted - grays and washed-out browns. And the trees are laid bare, to show a visual essence language written by their shapes, their intricate and poetic lines, all outlined with lacy fine twigs around the edges. At sunset, they glow orange.

The sun is hazy, diffuse behind a gray sky – you may even think it’s the moon.

I like the quiet times.

When there is a lull in the day.

And the hectic pace stops.

I like the clock that I can hear tick-tock. It beats at one herz – what an interesting number – one cycle per second, the rate of a heart beating.

I like to take a walk, with no thoughts, no agenda, nothing to solve.

I like to stare out into space and see what appears.

I am open and willing to receive.

I see the morning dew on the grass, sparkling and twinkling, and find it hard to look away.

I like the quiet time smelling hot apple pie baking.

I am calm.

My inner world is mine.
I choose peace there.
I sit quietly and feel the earth beneath me, supporting me. It’s always there.
I am calm.

Even being a little calm calls more, stronger calm.

I breathe in fresh air, a fresh viewpoint, fresh understanding.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I place my attention on me alone. My thoughts drop away.
Guardian angel, strengthen me.
I am calm.

There’s something about a very old photograph that really draws me in. Perhaps it’s the black and white monochrome world that looks oddly “at a distance” – as if that’s the best that could be done at that time – almost like a dream.

I like to see how people are dressed and I try to sense how it felt to be in that place at that time. Did the air feel different?

Musical beginning of Claire de Lune performed by and courtesy of Amber Short - https://www.ambershort.us/media/music/piano/Claire_de_Lune.wav


I’ve found that “Claire de Lune” has a very healing sound. I use muscle testing, also known as kinesiology, to test on a scale of 1 to 10 the power of healing for a particular piece of music.

The instrument doesn’t matter. It is the underlying music that presents this healing quality.

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.

I love to draw. And I love to paint even a little more.

There’s something so amazing about becoming immersed in an imaginary world – to create something inspired out of thin air.

Well, it’s really not something out of thin air in my experience, but rather playing with someone or something larger than me. You could call it higher self, God, or the Muse, but there is something there that I am working with -- no, playing with.

Someone once said that half of creating is just showing up. Every Sunday afternoon I either draw or paint. I show up.

I like to doodle. With an extra fine black pen on a piece of ordinary white paper.

The black ink is so stark, yet so controlled, so elegant because the line is so finely precise.

Doodling is one of earliest ways I remember to cope with frustration, with worry, with stress. It relaxes me.

There’s something about setting pen to paper that feels like raw creativity, pure play – no agenda – no picture in mind – just giving myself over to the moment.

There’s nothing like doing nothing.

I feel liberated, carefree, as if all responsibility is paused, and I am placed in a state of open wonder, able to just be.

Some may find it totally boring, perhaps a waste of time – not me!

My imagination is piqued, and ideas appear, as if clearing away everything that was blocking them. My senses are more, well, “sensitive,” magnified. So, I see and hear beauty around me more easily.

Come to the lake of calm. It sits there open to you.

You will not find it in travel books, nor upon any map ever made.

Because you do not “go there,” but rather “tune-in,” like dialing a radio station.

Many of us keep this place ready for you. Holding a space of pure peace.

Thousands, if not tens of thousands, if not far more, offer this collective vision. We pour out thought-power, our peaceful energy, our imagination into this “place,” this little realm, if you want to call it that.

We combine our thought focus to offer this.