Tag Archives: Soul

Infusion

These times require me to seek and steep in an infusion of love. A million messages a day invite me to choose compassion or loathing. In a millisecond of scrolling, I am dragged to gutters of rage or the deepest of heartaches.

I can’t deny the algorithms I trigger with every click or like, nor the cumulative effect these choices have on my sensitive soul. But I am certain, if not always willing, that the next Right Action is always compassion for myself and for all beings, closely followed by choosing infusions of love to fortify my heart.

“Our mind is like a garden, and we are the gardener. We can cultivate flowers or weeds. Whatever we plant and water will grow. Every piece of information, every conversation, every image, every sound we take in is a seed. If we are mindful, we can choose which seeds to water – whether they are seeds of joy, peace, and compassion, or seeds of anger, fear, and craving.”

Thich Nhat Hanh

Winter Drawings

Two winter drawings I am lucky to have from my Mother, Mary Alice Rogers Wyatt, and her brother, Earl Miles Rogers. Both are in pencil, ink, and chalk.

I thought lovingly of my mother and her brother as I carefully removed their art from the frames to scan. I imagined my grandmother’s pride and joy as she framed and displayed the scenes, side-by-side.

I am committed to keeping them together for as long as I have them. Then, they will fade and crackle into dust of obscurity, leaving an ethereal trail of smiles. I’m okay with that. It is the way.

Friday Love Notes from Colorado

The Trinity

This sweet moment, of seeing raindrops sparkle on an aspen leaf, asked me to consider sharing a simple image. To drop the words – although, here I am collecting and stacking them up again like not-quite-used-up folded paper towels. So I decided to go ahead and share the photo that I call “The Trinity” with plenty of space to honor it’s stand-alone beauty, or if you are curious, to add just a few more words.

Continue reading Friday Love Notes from Colorado

The Gap

Every once in a while there’s a gap.

A craving I cannot name.

An itch I cannot scratch.

I sit,

scrolling on my phone,

searching for books or a new tv series to begin, but, eventually,

and inevitably,

I slip back into a motionless stare that I don’t even recognize until

the stove timer dings, and,

there it is again.

The gap.

The gap between us.

The impermanent curtain hanging between flesh and spirit,

between here and There.

It’ll pass. It always does.

Note: This came out of a moment, or hour?, of staring into the infinite horizon of sky and earth. Initially, I thought I was missing my sister. Of calling her. With no particular need. Just a chat. But, as words came to page, I sensed it is also appropriate for this time of waiting in the season of Lent. Shared with love, and hope too.