The Patience to Wait

I’m fascinated by what I learned about the Chinese symbol for “patience”. The Chinese symbol for “heart” represents the organ that pumps blood and gives life. It also represents feelings and emotions and will. When the symbol for heart is placed in the middle of the symbols for person and embrace, it becomes love. But when the symbol for heart is combined with the symbol of a sword, you get the Chinese word for Patience. It means “to bear something painful in the heart”.


The picture for me is this: if I am backed into a corner, and there is a knife pressed against my chest, to make an unplanned, sudden move is sure death. I must remain still, gather my thoughts and composure, and don’t make a move without absolute intention.

It makes perfect sense to me that Patience is often characterized by something that is painful. And pain is something I want to avoid. But, in my attempts to get out of troubles as quickly as possible, I just might make my troubles worse.

I learned that The Tao teaches that right actions will present themselves to us if we are patient. A glass of muddy water will not clear if you are constantly stirring it. Only when you have the patience to be still and wait will the water become clear.

"Do you have the patience to wait

till your mud settles and the water is clear?

Can you remain unmoving

till the right action arises by itself?

The Master doesn't seek fulfillment,

but not seeking, not expecting,

is present, and can welcome all things."

Tao Teh Ching, Lao Tzu

This just gets better!   Take the Chinese symbol for “heart” and combine it with the symbol for “presence”, and you get “Intention”. Intention drives us towards our highest calling, but it begins with Presence, or stillness. First, Be Still – Be Present, exactly where you are Just Now. Then you can begin to set your Intentions on what is right in your heart.

It is through stillness and patience and deliberate intent that we are able to endure.

“There's more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives.” Romans 5:3-5, The Bible (The Message)

Be still, gather your thoughts, and move toward your calling with absolute intention. Then just TRY to contain what The Universe sends to you.

Patience. Presence. Intention. And it all started with Heart!

Here’s something else I like. The symbol for Heart looks like a child’s drawing of a house. When we are following our hearts, we aren’t strangers in our own skin. It feels like Home!

Unguarded Secrets

Unguarded secrets

are brought to light and handed to us like gifts.

What is opened

becomes honored

And the things we never even knew we wanted

become we what treasure most.

(from the story, "The Gathering Up Book")

Houston Sunrise

(From January 6, 2010)

Have you ever done something really special, and you wondered if anyone cared. You didn’t really want the credit for it. You just wanted to know if someone noticed. Well, this morning, God, -- that sunrise -- I noticed!

If I could have safely pulled my car over, facing east, I would have sat there enjoying it, willing it to pause so I could take it in, but glad to see the next moment when it changed and was even more beautiful. I wished that I could smell or hear it, because seeing was just not enough.

I could have written poetry. It was that beautiful.

Then I get to work, and I’m sitting in my cubicle, looking out my window with a perfect view of the parking garage. And I realize that had my teenage daughter not lost her shoes and made us late leaving, I would never have known that Houston had the most beautiful sunrise I have seen in a long time. I’m so thankful that I was relaxed and happy to be warming up the car and that I didn’t fuss at her for taking so long. I think God might have done that too!

The Universe, this morning, gave Houston something worthy of a deep, deep sigh and sense of awe. I’m so glad I noticed!

Why is The Universe sending me dogs?

I want a second cup of coffee, but three of the four dogs in this house are asleep near my feet, and I hate to rouse them. I hate to break the stillness of the morning.

I wish too that I had thought to turn off the the light in the hall before I snuggled into my chair. Dark is usually a better match for quiet than lightbulbs.

There is poetry in the room somehow, and I’m reaching for it. Or, more, it’s calling me. Waving to me. Making me think of a friend arriving at the train station. And yet there are no commuting train stations in my city. Strange how my mind went there. Trying to catch up with the poet, the puppy licks my toe. Where is the poetry in that? I will find it....

I dreamed this morning of going to some kind of retreat in the mountains with my husband and attending workshops and seminars. (There are also no mountains in the city where I live.) As we were leaving the seminar, we were scolded by resort managers for having snuck in a little puppy. I tried to explain that he harmed no one and left no evidence of his attendance, but they were still upset. As I woke up, they were looking for the event coordinators so they could tattle on me.

I went to a really large computer/electronics/appliances store last night. I looked at books while my husband looked at wireless routers and my daughter looked at games for a computer. A book caught my eye because it was the only one the whole shelf that was spiral bound. It was a planning calendar---with dozens of pictures of puppies!

I succumbed to the second cup of coffee. Only the baby of the family followed me, but I think he was telling me to hurry, because he is again curled close my feet, half under the snowman fleece that hasn't made its way back to the closet with the other Christmas decorations.

Just Now, one of the other dogs must be dreaming of chasing a bird, because his legs are bouncing around and he’s breathing funny. I hope he catches the bird before he wakes up the others.

Why is The Universe sending me dogs??

Picking up strays

My dad seemed to have a special place in his heart for strays. He brought home critters and creatures that no one else wanted.

I have a sweet memory of coming home after ½ day of kindergarten, and going with my dad to pick out a puppy from the dog pound. It was hard for him to only get one. Another time he bought me a $5 kitten from the pet store in the mall. He said they weren’t always the healthiest, but they needed me the most because they came from sad beginnings.

When I was about 8 years old, he came home with two baby pigeons, feathers still wet from having hatched that very morning. He had heard shots in the alley outside a downtown office window and looked out to find two boys killing pigeons with their BB guns. Daddy climbed out onto the ledge, gathered in the nest and baby pigeons, and brought them home. He created a warm place by constantly refilling hot water bottles, and fed them 'round the clock with an eyedropper. They thrived! I don’t remember their names anymore, but I do remember coming home from school one day to find daddy gently nudging them to fly—reminding them of what they were born to do. Amazing!

Homeless dogs, cats, horses: The Universe just seemed to know to send them in a direction that would cross my dad’s path. And Daddy’s adopting ways were never limited to animals. He brought home stray people as well. Several times we gave up our beds to someone daddy had collected from the street, a café, or the rescue mission where he volunteered. I remember twice being afraid of the strangers, but mostly they just softened around Daddy’s heart. Some tried to pay him, some stole from him, some promised to pass along the gifts to others.

One man named Shorty (big black man who towered over my dad’s 6’2” frame), lived for years in an alley in a downtown ghetto. (The same alley as the orphaned pigeons!) Shorty was “rolled” one morning, which, Daddy later explained, meant that he was robbed of everything--including the clothes he was wearing--while he was still unconscious. Apparently he became rather animated when he woke up. Dad looked out his office window and saw Shorty covering himself with cardboard, running from one end of the alley to the other, calling for his pants as if they would come to him on command. Still laughing, Daddy helped Shorty find more clothes--and food—both of which were offered for the price of listening to a prayer. After that, they shared sandwiches on the sidewalk several times. Shorty came to love my dad simply because dad spoke to him as a friend instead of a “skid row bum”. Shorty later saved my dad’s life when an inner city gang of boys backed my dad into an alley. Shorty’s alley. Those boys felt brave with their chains and knives, but they scattered when Shorty called my dad by name and asked if there was trouble.

It never mattered to Dad the outcome of the situation, only that when a stray stole his heart, he could not pass by.

Living in my house right now are two dogs my daughter rescued; one from the SPCA and one from a cruel owner. They share our house with an even bigger dog that my son rescued from a breeder who did not protect his purebred female from a stray, male mutt. We also have two cats, one who was rescued, and one who was born to us because we didn’t get the first one fixed fast enough. (Sorry!)

My son, now 21 years old, away at college, is also a 911 for lost souls and critters. Class hamster in elementary school, fallen birds from trees, puppies, kittens… He even once called me to ask if he could bring home a dying mouse he found in the high school boys locker room. He called me again last week. The phone call began with, “Mommy, let me start by telling you I’m really really sorry….” It ended with a puppy who was trying to get on an 8 lane highway and now has a name and his own food bowl at my house as he waits for adoption. I just sighed, memories of my dad rushing in my head, and thought, “Well, at least it is ONLY a puppy!”

I was thinking, Just Now, that maybe The Universe sees a sad story begin (animal or otherwise) and prepares the stray and the rescuer for an alternate ending. I'm not sure yet what that means for those who never meet their rescuer, but I have seen that it’s the honor of being born with human skin to play out a role in that story.

That sounds like something my dad would have said…

An Alternate Self

I listened to a conversation that began with a question about the possibility of parallel universes. I silently cheered them on, as a spectator would their favorite runner in a race. But, eventually, it digressed into a debate about their religions and the churches they attend. They were doing ok until they forced themselves to decide into which of their already labled boxes these new thoughts would fit. It was as if they were trying to put old batteries into their new toys.

Just Now I was thinking, wouldn't there be so much more Power if we didn't try to function with old batteries? What if we, instead, connected to The Source? Couldn't we become infinitely more? Why is the label so important? Does it have to matter if it's angels, or spirits, or dopplegangers, or even the Holy Spirit? Whether we call it prayer or the alpha-state, I think we can receive powers we have not known and do what we have not yet even imagined.

Or, we can trade our potential for dogma.

We create boxes in sizes and shapes that make us comfortable, stuff God (and our potential) into it, and wrap it with a pretty bow. We even sacrifice our Savior on the altar of religion. But I promise, if you have it all figured out, it's not worth worshiping.

I choose to be aware of this: One of the last things Jesus said to his disciples before his death is that they would be able to do everything he had done and even more. I refuse to trade my potential so I can carry a pretty box under my arm. I want to connect to The Source.

I'm losing touch with an alternate self because I don't like that she had everything all figured out. She comes around once in a while, but I notice her less and less. I'm looking for the Me who is tapped into the One who is able to do "exceedingly, abundantly, above all I could ever ask or even imagine."

Learning to Dance

You can go through this kicking and screaming or laughing and dancing! Gilda Radner used that phrase in her book, “It’s Always Something”, describing her life from the I-now-have-cancer point of view. I read that book 16 years ago, and I still remember that phrase. I decided to claim it and own it, even if I don’t always live it. Just now I was thinking there aren't only two choices of kicking & screaming, or laughing & dancing. The third choice is sitting & watching.

I don’t know how to dance. It helps to understand that my sweet father truly believed that dancing was a sin, and taught me that “good girls” don’t dance. I didn’t own that concept, but I obeyed it out of respect for my father. My husband has tried to teach me to dance several times in our 30 years together. I’m not a total klutz, I just feel like a stranger on the dance floor. I usually sit at a table, enjoying watching others, but secretly wishing I could dance with them.

This weekend, at a beautiful wedding reception, I, as usual, sat and watched others dance. I was sad I never learned some of the steps so I could enjoy that with my husband and friends. Then something very important occurred to me, and I admitted it to the others at my table. It’s really quite simple, why I don’t dance: I’m concerned with what other people will think about the way I look when I dance. I saw several people dancing who looked, at least to some of us at that table, ridiculous. But what really mattered is this: They were dancing, and I was sitting.

I did try a few dances with my husband that night, including the really sweet Texas Two Step. I wasn’t comfortable, but it was fun. And it made my husband happy. Such a small thing. Today I found a website that has videos that demonstrate dance steps, and I think I could learn some.

The real lesson for me was not just about learning dance steps. Like Gilda Radner described, laughing and dancing is not just something we do. It’s the way we choose to go through life. I’m not really the kind of person who typically kicks & screams. But I also realized I don’t want to be one who always watches others. I’m trying new things these days. Reading new kinds of books; trying out new thoughts; learning new skills. I’m especially trying to not let what others think of me be what paralyzes me or keeps Me hidden.

I think I’m looking for the little girl inside of me who was told she shouldn’t dance. I want her to come out and play. I want her to learn to laugh & dance!

"Truth is a Pathless Land"

Just Now I read J. Krishnamurti: "Truth is a Pathless Land." It was his speach given in 1929 upon his dissolving the Order of the Star. Paraphrasing and elaborating, here is Me making his thoughts mine:

Do not attempt to narrow down Truth for me, making it a plaything as if I am weak and merely discontented. Your organization was a crutch that remained only as long as I was weak and convinced that I was crippled.

Today I answer The Master who says, “Arise and Walk”. Do not attempt to bring to me the mountain top. I will climb there myself. You may meet me there, but do not try to keep me on your path. Your guideposts made me wander. Now I want to run through the Pathless Land before I forget, again, that it was Always There. That I was Always There.

I am not wandering through a dark valley towards a light in the distance. In me is already the Light and the Way and the Truth. Meet me here!

(Read his entire speach)