‘What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men …… That is what love looks like.’ - St. Augustine

Tuesday, June 19, 2007


It doesn't hurt to envision one. In fact, the opposite is true. The more we take the time to envision and imagine, the more swiftly the good things move in.

I was born an optimist. I can actually remember being an infant and feeling completely connected and in love with all things. Then life happens and one day you wake up a cynic. Well, I'm purposefully and intentionally and commitedly trying to find my way back to that little optimist. I can remember looking out the window next to my crib and seeing a tree that I knew was my brother-sister-mother-father-friend. I can remember this tree smiling at me and loving me through the window, through the bars of my crib, through my little baby skin. I even remember the feel of the cold crib rails between my fingers. I loved that feeling - clutching them in my hands and gazing out the window at my tree friend and hearing the wind. It was a feeling of complete knowingness and "all is well."

These days I wake, bolt upright, in my bed with abject fear and terror. I'm not sure where it comes from or why, but I know my job is to gently release it and know that I am ok, that I am still that little girl looking out at the tree all those decades ago.

Consciously, when I am awake and moving about my day-lit world, I try to whisper mantras to my soul, mantras that will get in and make a difference. Sometimes it is ' And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well ' from St Julian. Other times it is 'you are okay.' Last night it was 'just breathe'.

It's amazing that words can bring such comfort. What are words anyway? Just breath with intention. I take in the breath the world gives me, hold it in my lungs, and then let it move back out into the world through the conscious movement of my mouth. I form the shape the breath takes with my lips, but the breath itself comes from God/Universe/Oneness. We share the words I speak, in a sense. We speak the words together.

I like thinking that. I like thinking of God sharing the experience of my existence, through my very breath.

Now it's bed-time. I'll go to sleep, free my soul , and later wake to a new day. God will be there. I'll take a breathe every few seconds, and with each in and out breath, I'll be sharing the experience of being alive again, with all that is.

Peace everyone. And especially you, Dad. Congrats on this, your second anniversary of graduating from this life. I love you.

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