Comments

    • Lee Xanthippe says

      Love the short and to-the-point clarity of what is waiting to be known and the formal, “I shall call husband!”–that line takes my mind somehow to something older like Elizabethan poetry…lovely!

    • Wendy says

      I love the … at the start. It feels like there was a whole rush of words before then, culminating in what we then get to read. This was really fun to read and to imagine what came before.

  1. Wendy says

    Generally, with the prompts, an idea comes to me, and I can sit down and write it. Today, things came up and were discarded. (I actually thought “discarded” but typed “discovered.” Huh.)

    In essence, in this post, I am going through the process where something is waiting to be known (I can’t type “incredible.” I just can’t do it.)

    I think what I’ve been discovering over the past year is that I am all right. It seems like a basic statement, but I spent thirty years with a therapist who I believed would fix me if I could just breathe the correct way, say the right word, be there at the magic time, look a certain way.

    (Now there are voices in my head: This is so negative! You’re exaggerating! You’ve put a past overlay on the experience! Delete all of this now!)

    I quit therapy, and one of my friends gave me a stack of Pema Chodron books to read. Whenever I would feel full of anxiety of despair (most of the time every day), I would read some of her words. I remember reading her idea that the feeling that something needed to be fixed in yourself was an act of self-aggression.

    I remember putting the book down and thinking, “But that can’t possibly be right! That’s the way I always feel!”

    So I think for me what is happening is I’m accepting myself more. I’m seeing that in any given day, I can have a bunch of feelings, and it can be a journey. If it’s an emotionally rainy day, I can stay inside, or I can wear galoshes and take my umbrella. I have resources.

    The rest is a mystery that I want to see unfold.

    • Laura Davis says

      Wendy, I’m so glad you have Pema as a companion on your journey. Your post reminded me of a woman I interviewed for The Courage to Heal, probably almost 30 years ago. She said she’d come home from a long trip to Mexico where the culture was completely different. She came home to a huge mailbox full of flyers for human growth workshops and classes and she threw them all away, “I’m good enough the way I am. I don’t need to be improved anymore.” That was a moment of liberation for her. Leaving your therapist may have been one for you. Good luck!

    • Lee Xanthippe says

      Thank you for this writing! I enjoyed reading about the process of writing–what words could not be typed, the words discarded and discovered. And the idea of fixing oneself as a kind of aggression…and the resistance to the idea as well. I felt like I was in the moment with the writing as it unfolded…I felt a lot of energy around the 30 year therapist and the letting go of that person. Thanks for opening up the process and the moment!

    • Hazel says

      In reading your piece I felt you vacillating. But as you came to the end you became more positive. “I have resources.” is a very positive statement. Maybe try paraphrasing the last line. The rest is my story that I want to see unfold.

      Thank you for sharing.

    • Judy says

      Wendy, I love how you began this piece with hesitancy, searching for the words. And, as other have said, I love that Pema Chodron is a companion and resource on your unfolding, evolving path. You end with such hope and the joy that sometimes it is just okay to sit or walk in the raindrops—a renewing and cleansing symbol. Thank you for this post.

    • Terry Gibson says

      Wendy, I love how you explained your emotional reality as varying weather patterns. On the Pema Chodron front, this sentence jumped at me. “I remember reading her idea that the feeling that something needed to be fixed in yourself was an act of self-aggression.” I spend about 90% of my time in this place–to one degree or another–and this new idea is exciting to me. More than a grain of truth there: let’s go for a red wheelbarrow full. Thanks for sharing this, Wendy. I’m intrigued by this new strategy toward life and your growth working with it.

  2. Fran Stekoll says

    Waiting to be known in my life is letting go of anger and facing my demons so
    I can achieve success, happiness, and love.
    I am currently at the Sedona Wellness Retreat to heal breast cancer.
    Of course I’m waiting to know if everything I’m doing will heal me. I’ve discovered the reasons I contracted this had much to do with impent anger,
    unresolved feelings and the fact that I’ve been giving all my life to others and not to myself.
    My entire lifestyle is now undergoing change and I am waiting to see if I can
    continue on this new path and heal.
    I am having to become an organic vegan, take 10 supplements daily, give myself B12 injections and do accupuncture daily. Waiting to be known is can
    I continue on this path when I return home on November 3rd.
    I do realize that I can no longer maintain the pace I once enjoyed. Waiting to
    be known is how many of my volunteer activities I need to downsize and will
    I be able to love myself totally for the first time without feeling guilty and not feeling selfish.

    • Laura Davis says

      Fran, glad you’re taking care of yourself. Good luck with your transition home to the “real” world. That’s where the real test comes in–just like you expressed so eloquently in your piece.

    • Lee Xanthippe says

      I like the framing of the “Waiting to be known is…” and the various answers and the present details in the middle. I felt the deep questions of not knowing what would need to be changed or adjusted…I thought the strength in the solid sentence, ” I do realize that I can no longer maintain the pace I once enjoyed. Thank you for your words and I wish you the best!

    • MaryL says

      Fran, I just want to comment that you are choosing what to do to heal. You are not required to do anything, but it seems you have tapped into some source of energy which is gentle and strong, and which can carry with you home, a step at a time. Thank you, MaryL

    • Judy says

      Fran, thank you for sharing this part of your journey. That you made the choice to heal using a variety of modalities shows the kind of ‘stuff’ that makes you the incredible, strong and giving woman you are. And, yes, now is the time to focus on you. To your healing.

    • Terry Gibson says

      I am happy to hear you are coming home on the 3rd. Will be cheering for you through your every step on the healing path. I hope, amidst the new focus and people around you, you can maintain a true gentleness with yourself. I don’t get there easily but when I do, I find it works for me. I wish you a steady recovery and an inner well of peace from which you rest, rejuvenate, and regain your equilibrium. Especially when everything around you is in a such a clamor of medicines, nurses, and doctors. Blessings to you, Fran, and remember as I try and do, that we can only do the best we can during any season of life.

  3. Lee Xanthippe says

    I’ve just embarked on a project. I was prompted by a friend’s email–something to the effect of, “I always imagined you writing a book about _______.” And hot damn if I didn’t start writing a book about _______. I’ve been exploding with ideas and writing them in one file and saving them in 3 places and last weekend wrote thousands and thousands of word–ideas, things I thought might be in this book and also wrote out the ideas and the scenes in my head and my life and I am looking at how this book could be framed and how it could be pitched and I have questions about this book and I am writing those too.

    I am learning about my writing process–what I need, what works for me, and trying to write without feeling bad about how I write. And when I went to work Monday, although I spent the weekend writing punctuated by eating and walks–perhaps a boring weekend for many, I felt a smileyness in me–like I had done something totally worthwhile.

    I hope to be about to keep my enthusiasm and belief going in this project even as it changes or as parts of it become more difficult.

    I also wrote a little about how I could see how my life, my experience, what I am reading, sometimes randomly has prepared my to do this project, and the writing experiences and confidence I have gained recently.

    I realize in this piece I am unsatisfyingly being vague, but I feel like I am still keeping this project close to me until I am ready to live in the sharing of the details which I am diligently recording and exploring. My apologies for vague and secretive writing here but that is where I am right now. I do not trust easily, especially in public forums and that’s okay, but yeah, makes for boring-er writing, but there. Wishing you well and happy writing about the things that make your head explode in the best ways!

    • says

      Lee, I think you’re wise to protect your precious seed of an idea while it’s just starting to germinate. Many ideas lose their momentum when shared prematurely, so I definitely honor your “vagueness.” Good luck with your idea as you develop it. Definitely take advantage of this period of time when you’re on fire–it’s a valuable gift to you–and most likely won’t be sustained the whole time it takes to bring your “baby” to fruition, but it’s enough to get you started and get a fire under you for the times when the execution of the idea is not longer coming from a place of inner fire. Good luck! I’m sure you’ll tell us about it in time.

      • Lee Xanthippe says

        Thank you much! This is a new thing for me–to think of this as a book or a possible book–to feel like I have a really great idea and the authority and artfulness of vision to be able to write it if I choose too. It feels very powerful–well, actually I have a few ideas that do, but this is the one I have the fire for now and I think at some point I will have to mount a horse and see if I can ride her or him. I’ve just been watching other people riding the horses and wishing it was me and other times I watch the pretty brown and white horses run on their own and wish I was the horse. Can I ride this horse? Can this horse take me someplace? Can I be the steady and impulsive horse and ultimately take my readers somewhere familiar that they have never been before.

        You have gotten your voice out into the world and I have so much respect for that–not just for getting your voice out, but for getting it out on such vital topics. A voice that supports and gives so much.

        Thanks for the comments and the inspiration!
        (It is so easy somehow to let projects go when other things come up, but when I think of getting my project out or even of working my project, processing my project, sparking my project and letting it spark me, my chest, somewhere around my heart fills, my lungs seem to have more space and breathe in them. There is something about doing what you were meant to do…to often I am doing someone else’s work, working someone else’s vision, doing good work but not my work, not the work that makes my heart sing.
        Is it a woman thing, that it is so hard to make your voice and desires come first sometimes? The words selfish echoes in me but the stronger big roomy chest feeling overrules the 7 letter word. After I devote so much time to others, Doc, can I save the last dance for me?

        • says

          “The words selfish echoes in me but the stronger big roomy chest feeling overrules the 7 letter word. After I devote so much time to others, Doc, can I save the last dance for me?”

          Yes, you can. Yes, yes, yes.

          You have my permission. In fact, it is your life assignment.

          • Lee Xanthippe says

            Dear Laura,
            Thanks for the permission…that was sweet…although I was actually asking my question out into the world and was riffing off of a story I heard about Doc Pomus–the writer of “Save the Last Dance For Me”…there’s a new documentary called “AKA Pomus” or maybe “AKA Doc Pomus”. Doc Pomus–singer and songwriter and I think producer had had polio and was a wheelchair user and was probably not promoted as a singer because of the discrimination against people with disabilities who were not supposed to be seen or seen as a singing star.
            But his song “Save the Last Dance For Me” references his wedding night where he told his wife to go on and dance with the other (able bodied) people at the wedding. And then, wrote this song later on the wedding napkin–about her saving the last dance for him…the last dance being the most special one.
            Perhaps I am trying to figure out how to marry myself and how to do all the dances–traditional and less traditional : ), but no less important and likely more important.
            But yes, I was writing to you…and then I was just writing…to the world, myself, this site, and to Doc Pomus. (Oh, and not only did he not look “right” because of his physical impairments or differences, he also apparently sounded like a black man when he sang, but was an east coast Jewish white guy…luckily he found his place in the world nonetheless.
            I am hoping to find my place in the world as well…thanks!

    • Wendy says

      Lee, I completely understand being vague about the project, but I do feel that you gave us a very specific sense of the process and your feelings about it, and that was a gift. I really like the idea of “smileyness.”

    • Hazel says

      Lee,
      I am excited for you as you begin this journey as “a writer” and your excitement will carry you far. This is the clue that you are doing the right thing: “Monday, although I spent the weekend writing punctuated by eating and walks–perhaps a boring weekend for many, I felt a smileyness in me–like I had done something totally worthwhile.” And, you probably did!

      Thank you for sharing.

    • Judy says

      Lee, it is a bold action you are taking and one I greatly admire. I love this entire thread, especially Laura’s comment that “writing this book is your life’s assignment.” We look forward to the reading and book signing.

    • Terry Gibson says

      Lee, reading this post got me excited for you and even fired up for me too! That’s the best! I know the feeling so well. From this, I remembered my own office where a senior woman said, in effect, that I had nothing going on between my ears at all, just because I was employed as a typist. But I had a secret, I nourished my brain with books as if they were disappearing FAST. They were the only food I needed. Well, that and an occasional cracker. So, Lee, I love how you wrote this. You didn’t strike stuff out even though highly tempted. I am feeling a fire in the belly knowing you are giddily nourishing your idea after discovering you wanted to do it. Good luck, Lee. I’ll be waiting with closed ears and blind eyes for another update. Just keeping with the spirit of things, and honouring your needs. :)

  4. Jaqui says

    What is waiting to be known in my life?

    The rest of it … the rest of what life has waited this long to reveal – what it has been preparing me to know for the past 72 years, all that it has withheld up until now.

    A bit worrisome however in that I have been so fortunate to have lived a full and interesting life thus far. There are times that I find myself echoing the lyrics to an old Patti Page (I think) song, “Is that all there is”? Like a good dinner or the perfect Spring day – I want more. God and fate have chosen to close a most major door in my life, and I deeply grieve the loss behind that door. But I believe in that old adage that when one door closes another one opens – so here I sit, poised and nearly ready to hear the squeaky hinges of “another door opening”. Thus, what is waiting to be known in the life I will find and live behind that door? Serendipity will take up residence in my world, I hope. I love surprises, new experiences, indelible moments and all the lessons that come from such happenings. I hope life gives me time to give … to share or teach some of what I have already learned. Also, I pray life gives me back my creativity and gives me time to learn and produce more art. I hope there are new friends waiting to be known, old friends waiting to be known even better. May life be generous with my children and allow us to know and be known anew with little or no unfinished business when it will count the most.

    Each of the days gone by have taught me how to live, perhaps those that are left will teach me how to die … to let go with few regrets but great “happinesses” – that my light will have shown and made some small difference that was needed. There is still much to learn, say, do. I will, of course, need time to straighten my dresser and desk drawers, learn to write and hear more music.
    I can trust, I think, that life will provide the opportunity for me to know what it wishes me to know.

    Just in case I’m wrong about all this, I bow my head in gratitude for all the blessings received and shared – all the wonders so far met and known – the great gifts we call children and grandchildren and the rest of today .. gratitude, in deed, for all known and yet to be known.

    • says

      Jacqui, I loved this piece. It was wistful, a little sad, and hopeful all at the same time. I loved these lines in particular, “Each of the days gone by have taught me how to live, perhaps those that are left will teach me how to die … to let go with few regrets but great “happinesses” – that my light will have shown and made some small difference that was needed. There is still much to learn, say, do. I will, of course, need time to straighten my dresser and desk drawers, learn to write and hear more music.” I sense you as a woman at peace with your life–and my guess is that peace has been hard-earned and well-deserved.

      • Jaqui Jacobs says

        Thank you for your kind words. I am new at “unzipping” myself publically, but looked forward to this week’s prompt. “A woman at peace with your life -” you wrote. I immediately thought oh, no – not at all, far from it …. but after a little thought I began to wonder if, at least in small part, perhaps you are right. That would be a good thing to know and accept about myself/my life. Thank you!

        Note: Somehow I got my piece in twice again, can you take it out for me? Sorry, afraid I am technically challenged. jj

      • Lee Xanthippe says

        Yes and this piece read to me like something being sent out into the world–a hope, a prayer…I loved the squeaky hinges and the number of years, 72, which gave me some context and the lyric–is that all their is? (I think my parents had this one on a Peggy Lee album : ) )
        I felt the tension and mystery about the closing of the major door and also how that might lead to all the contemplated new things…thanks much for you writing!

    • Hazel says

      Like Laura said, this piece is a little wistful, a little sad, but hopeful. It is much lighter than the first one you posted here. It was lovely.

      Thank you for sharing this well written bit of your writing.

    • Wendy says

      Jacqui, I loved the notion of sitting and being poised and “nearly ready” for another door to open. I love it that the door had squeaky hinges. That just really tickled me. Thank you.

  5. Jaqui Jacobs says

    What is waiting to be known in my life?

    The rest of it … the rest of what life has waited this long to reveal – what it has been preparing me to know for the past 72 years, all that it has withheld up until now.

    A bit worrisome however in that I have been so fortunate to have lived a full and interesting life thus far. There are times that I find myself echoing the lyrics to an old Patti Page (I think) song, “Is that all there is”? Like a good dinner or the perfect Spring day – I want more. God and fate have chosen to close a most major door in my life, and I deeply grieve the loss behind that door. But I believe in that old adage that when one door closes another one opens – so here I sit, poised and nearly ready to hear the squeaky hinges of “another door opening”. Thus, what is waiting to be known in the life I will find and live behind that door? Serendipity will take up residence in my world, I hope. I love surprises, new experiences, indelible moments and all the lessons that come from such happenings. I hope life gives me time to give … to share or teach some of what I have already learned. Also, I pray life gives me back my creativity and gives me time to learn and produce more art. I hope there are new friends waiting to be known, old friends waiting to be known even better. May life be generous with my children and allow us to know and be known anew with little or no unfinished business when it will count the most.

    Each of the days gone by have taught me how to live, perhaps those that are left will teach me how to die … to let go with few regrets but great “happinesses” – that my light will have shown and made some small difference that was needed. There is still much to learn, say, do. I will, of course, need time to straighten my dresser and desk drawers, learn to write and hear more music.
    I can trust, I think, that life will provide the opportunity for me to know what it wishes me to know.

    Just in case I’m wrong about all this, I bow my head in gratitude for all the blessings received and shared – all the wonders so far met and known – the great gifts we call children and grandchildren and the rest of today .. gratitude, in deed, for all known and yet to be known.

    Jaqui Jacobs

  6. Hazel says

    “Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.”

    I’m sure it is, but other than the date of the surgery to take the battery pack out of my butt, or the day when the pain of the nerve damage from shingles will go away, or the day when I die, I really have no clue as to what could be waiting for me.

    The awareness of what happens just after the moment of death is intriguing; which way will I go this time? The possibilities are endless and I wonder if my beliefs have any influence as to which direction I slip when that moment comes. Have I signed a contract prior to entering this dimension setting out how long I will spend here and what I am supposed to learn? I have so many questions. Will I ever get any answers? If this is a process of evolving and I am supposed to transmute into an enlightened being then where am I in the process? How can I find out? Who has the yardstick? Could it be that I have the yardstick and I am judging myself so harshly that I make no progress? Why judge at all? If I just “be” am I avoiding making progress, or am I slipping backward into the future anyway? Will I recognize that a change has occurred when it does? Since energy cannot be created nor destroyed, I will go someplace.

    I am writing, and living, and talking pictures as I walk into Somewhere to find Something Incredible.

      • Hazel says

        Laura,
        I raise these questions because I think of them a lot more than I ever used to, perhaps because I am getting closer to that very far end of the spectrum where things are fading out, or do they jump; straight up? or sideways?

        I was out taking pictures for my Joy of Photography class today and I was standing in the middle of the road, on the yellow line, with a wonderful view of the fall trees hanging over the road and a great vanishing point. I turned around and here was a big coal truck barreling down on me. Guess I better not tempt fate that way again anytime soon.

        • Lee Xanthippe says

          Love the way this piece just starts in–intriguing–the battery pack in the butt or getting taken out, rather? And the contemplations…I really liked the writing, living, and taking pictures line as well–thanks!

          PS As I always say, “You never know what will happen but you better look both ways before crossing in front of a bus.”

          Oh, and I also like the straightforward line- “…I will go someplace” after the musings : )

    • Wendy says

      Hazel: There is such a great rhythm to this piece, from earthy specifics to big questions, to a transcendent moment in time. I thought this was a great piece. Thank you.

    • Judy says

      Hazel, this piece is absolutely luscious in it’s straight forward direct writing style so enjoyable in your work. It is well done and filled with my same questions about that really big mystery that awaits.

      On that topic, I recall the mother’s of two guys I grew up with who attended the concluding breakfast of our 50th HS reunion. Without skipping a beat one looked at the other and asked, “Well, Zeda, you all packed for our next really big adventure?” To which Zeda said, “Hell no, I’m traveling light this time.”

    • MaryL says

      Hazel, I love your piece. In the beginning, you are clearly waiting for the relief of pain … may it come! Thinking about what happens “after” is OK, unless it’s a distraction from the fullness of this present moment. What if this is heaven? MaryL

    • Hazel says

      Thank you every one for your thoughtful comments on my writing. I will try to take you to a different place next week.

    • Terry Gibson says

      Hazel, this piece is so evocative. I enjoyed the detailed questions and saddled up for your imaginative ride along with you. I said this before but when I died, in the minute or so prior to being revived, I had no idea that my heart had stopped. I wasn’t aware of going any place or even that I was in an outrageously long queue, tapping my fingers on my knee in wait. What I do know is this: I felt no physical pain but was emotionally aware and felt deeply, as I do alive. All I thought was, “Wow. ______ (my peer counsellor and friend) will be glad to hear that I’m so happy!” Or that I won’t be bugging her any more :) Thanks so much, Hazel!

      • Hazel says

        Terry,
        I have been a that point a few times in my life, but I never have any answers. I am beginning to think that there are none. That we should just be happy and enjoy all the things there are to enjoy here because we don’t know what lies beyond, if anything. Thank you for your comments.

  7. Terilynn says

    I am waiting to come out of my shell.

    I have been hiding under the porch for a long time. Getting out is not as threatening as my socially phobic side believes it to be. With so many positive encounters, why do I cling to solitary confinement? When will I accept I really am a social creature?

    So what is the mystery? The unknown. I still don’t trust it, nor do I trust my ability to handle it. I’ve proven myself capable enough, in various situations. Yet I still doubt myself. My creative mind can conjure up more worst-case scenarios than anyone can imagine.

    Logic vs. fear – this is the mystery. Integration is the answer. The willingness to allow it is the solution.

    • says

      Terilynn, thanks for sharing this challenge with us. You clearly describe your dilemma–between the safety of your “shell” and the wonders that may exist outside of it. Good luck taking baby steps out–it’s not the world is without risks, it’s just that, in my mind anyway, opening the door to the outside world is worth the possible dangers. But of course this is your conundrum to wrestle with. Good luck.

    • Hazel says

      Terrilynn,
      Your piece made me thing of that quote of Annais Nin. “There came a time when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” You will bloom when you cannot stand to remain where you are, under the porch.

      Thank you for sharing.

    • Lee Xanthippe says

      I really enjoyed the space opened up in this piece of contemplating coming out of the shell, realizing it’s not as threatening and yet still having the force of the worst-case scenarios that can block movement or instill fear. I enjoyed the line “Integration is the answer” even though I am not sure I understood it–I liked in anyway. Thanks much for this piece!

    • Wendy says

      Terilynn, I like how you start with a question and at the end you answer it. I feel like every word in this piece counts. Thank you.

    • MaryL says

      TerryLynn, this beautiful sharing is like a chick pecking from the inside on the eggshell, opening it just a little bit. Your saying it makes it closer to reality. And remember that you do not have to change to come out of your shell. Be yourself… that is precious enough. MaryL

    • Judy says

      Terilynn, I like this writing–it held me from start to finish. In few words you took the reader on a roller coaster ride, one I’ve experienced myself. I love how this line, “My creative mind can conjure up more worst-case scenarios than anyone can imagine” preceded this clear upbeat last line “Logic vs. fear – this is the mystery. Integration is the answer. The willingness to allow it is the solution.” Nicely done.

    • Terry Gibson says

      Terrilynn, I could relate to so much of this. Hiding under the porch. Conjuring up so many reasons not to take that step outside yourself. Even the growing repertoire of positive experiences, yet still feeling drawn back inward. I live this a lot and, like you, I battle the same foe. Recently, I decided to stop asking ‘why’ and just deal with the ‘what’ of each situation I face. It’s hard work but I cheer you on heartily.

  8. Jaqui Jacobs says

    Terilynn,

    You’re writing captured some of the same feelings I experience – not exactly, but a bell went off in my spirit. I was wishing you lived next door and we could have coffee and talk about it. One thing that came to mind was an old Native American story about the two wolves. I paraphrase here, but it relates to the deamons and issues we all battle. .. One wolf was kind, controlled, content etc. and the other snarling and discontent. When the Grandfather (who was telling the story) was asked “which one will survive”? The wise old man said simply, “whichever one you feed”.

    Blessings and good luck. jj

    • Lee Xanthippe says

      (On that note, I once had a performance anxiety book, that said, you get good at what you practice–do we practice fear? anxiety? a skill? daring? Yet easier said than done…each of us on our own journey to understand out own wants and desires, our own sense of comfort and risk, our own way to better, free-er living. I wish it had been easier to get where I am and I wish I was beyond where I am, at the same time, I can only be where I am, but I’m glad I’m not where I was.

      • Hazel says

        I’m glad I have traveled the roads I have but there are not too many that I would repeat if asked to do it again. Like Popeye, “I am what I am.”

  9. Nancy Qualls says

    What is waiting in my life is so open, as with all of you as well. What I see…what I offer is dependent on me. What am I willing to explore and educate myself on. For all of us, the opportunities are endless and this is so exciting. It is up to all of us to take the time each day for the development of ourselves. Whether it is taking a class, participating in an project we are interested in, reading a book or just meditating…with the focus on ‘me’.

    If you are reading this then, like me, you are awaiting the next inspiration for writing. To write, book review, translate (Italian) and beta-read are new everyday. I never know who will contact me and offer to share their manuscript and this has led me into genre’s that I would normally not read, and I find I enjoy them.

    I focus on these everyday, and I am lucky that I have the time to do so. First thing each morning, while I do my stretches, I daydream of what I want to do, like run, and how I can achieve this goal. Although my body is standing firm that this will not happen, I still see the light at the end of the tunnel.

    For me, it is important to make sure I am in check with my family and to think and act on things that need to be addressed. This does include checking in with God even though the door between us has been closed since the needless loss of my Sheltie, Sadie, but we are at least talking across the door that is yet to ‘open’.

    • Hazel says

      Nancy,
      This is interesting. “First thing each morning, while I do my stretches, I daydream of what I want to do, like run, and how I can achieve this goal. Although my body is standing firm that this will not happen, I still see the light at the end of the tunnel.” You are open to “the next big thing.” I think we all have our issues with God from time to time, I know I have.

      Thank you for sharing.

    • says

      Nancy, I love the way you talk about exploring the possibilities of each day as the day begins. That sounds like luxury to me–though I might just be projecting my fantasies on to your life!

      I loved, too, your description of your relationship with God in the last paragraph. Many of us have sat on that cusp–just like you.

      • Nancy Qualls says

        Your fantasies about my life are real. I am retired and mostly bedbound so I sleep and wake at will.

        We are told that God makes all happen, and then recently I am told that he is not responsible for what happens but is with us to walk through life’s tribulations. I am sure there are people that also have a tumultuous relationship (another writing prompt?).

        Thank you for your site and encouragement. It is a weekly exercise I look forward to.

    • Lee Xanthippe says

      Thanks for your writing…I was struck by the image of the body standing firm against one’s wishes… and was intrigued by the Italian translating and getting open to new genres one wouldn’t have considered…I felt piqued by and empathy for the Sheltie experience and the change of the relationship with God…
      Thanks for sharing this!

    • Judy says

      Nancy, I like how you explore the ‘co-creating’ of our lives through stretches and daydreams. It’s like our internal dialog with a higher power–and makes my heart hum.

      May I share two ceremonies (thought experiments) before arising each morning:
      1) arthritis stretches with a mantra for greater mobility this day
      2) a simple meditation that serves me as your daydreams. I pretend I’m standing at an open front door tossing corn/maze onto a path open to possibilities might take root.

      Heart hum :)

  10. Mary Lasher says

    What is waiting to be known is my true purpose. I know it’s somewhere deep inside of me. I feel it trying to bubble up and spill over and drip it’s goodness out of my being. I feel it’s power, it’s want, it’s passion. And yet fear keeps me from acknowledging that it’s there. I keep telling it to wait. Please wait until I’m ready. Ready for what it asks? and I turn away, ignoring the question.

    Waiting for what?

    I suppose I’m waiting for instruction, for guidance, for approval. And yet I have all of that from my family, from my divine guidance and from my heart.

    Waiting for what?

    I suppose I’m waiting for the right moment, the right tools, the right idea. And yet everything is just right right now.

    What is waiting to be known is my true purpose and if I wait any longer it will dry up inside of me, the bubbles becoming stale and no longer wanting to spill over.

    The wait is over. The time is now.

    • says

      Mary, I think you just answered your own question. The time is now. The waiting is over. Just take that first step even if you’re scared, even if you don’t know where you’re going…

    • Nancy Qualls says

      Mary,

      You have seen the light. It is you and it is now. We all feel this way at one time or another and it is up to us to recognize the bubble we are in and pop it. The great thing about us growing older is that we are more in tune and we still feel young and that is our greatest stimulus.

      Nancy

    • Hazel says

      Mary,
      I am 77 years old and still asking that same question. If I don’t just go ahead and just put one foot in front of the other I won’t have enough information to make that decision. When I look back at some of the things I have done, I can see a couple that I think have been what my purpose was, but that doesn’t mean that the purpose doesn’t change. I don’t have the physical energy at this time to carry out more of what my best accomplishments were.

      “The wait is over. The time is now.” Do what drives you today.

  11. MaryL says

    What is waiting to be known in your life? October 29, 2013

    Underneath it all,
    who am I really?
    I stand here, under layers of garments,
    pretty dresses and old jeans and sweatshirts,
    a wedding gown that made me weep, and which never fit me at all.
    Soft flannel of baby blankets wrap the child at the breast,
    needing me back then, gone now.
    The thin shawl of bitter memories smells musty now,
    And a spring is welling up – yearnings I have quashed for fear of breaking … again.
    My heart is carefully bound, beating hard, beating hot, ready to burst,
    and my womb, absent for a long time, is still the place where I keep my treasures.
    Cool cloths on my forehead and at the nape of my neck
    keep the fatigue from wearing me down, as I feel time slowing down…

    Somewhere inside, there is an urge to run free,
    to put aside the too-tight garments of false modesty,
    and to express and receive juicy love,
    to let the fountain of joy between my limbs open up and make a rainbow.
    I will feel the spring rains and the hard rains,
    and come through stronger,
    I will leave behind the fears and hesitations of the decades,
    while I still have the strength to climb mountains and sing like an angel,
    I will fill to overflowing with my true self,
    not the masked version, hidden and powerless.

    I am ready to take my place on the fine old rocking chair,
    reading from a book I have written,
    surrounded by my listeners -
    wise women and teachers and angels and children.

    • Hazel says

      MaryL,
      I can really relate to your last paragraph:
      “I am ready to take my place on the fine old rocking chair,
      reading from a book I have written,
      surrounded by my listeners -
      wise women and teachers and angels and children.”

      Thank you for sharing, nicely written.

  12. Judy says

    THE MYSTERY BEFORE ME

    Birth
    Death
    Regeneration
    ‘ tis mystery to me

    It is boundless and expanding
    Both circle and a square
    It is ever flowing ocean
    That will carry me somewhere

    Birth
    Death
    Regeneration
    ‘tis mystery to me

    It is holy
    It is sacred
    My omnipresent prayer
    It is wisdom of the ancients
    That lovingly they share

    Birth
    Death
    Regeneration
    ‘tis mystery to me

    It is matrix
    It is womb
    And is a mighty harbor
    That will one day be tomb

    Birth
    Death
    Regeneration
    ‘tis mystery to me

    • says

      I’ve reading Katy Butler’s excellent book, “Knocking on Heaven’s Door,” about end of life and death–and your poem fit in perfectly. Thank you for sharing it!

      • Judy says

        Thank you Laura & Hazel. I wrote this on Samhain Eve (Gaelic Fest to celebrate summer’s end and the New Year or dark time). My friend Marti is putting the piece to music as a chant or rondeau. In Wiccan circles the idea of birth, death, regeneration is seen as very positive, hopeful and a return to the ‘cosmos soup’ before rebirth. Thank you, Laura, for the reminder of Kathy Butler’s book. I’ve just ordered it.

  13. Ritch Brinkley says

    Regarding something in storage. From traveling the four corners during my adult years, little survives from the past save for the deposits sequestered away in my memory bank. But one thing survives the vissitudes of a gypsy actor: my grandmother’s fruit knives. At her house at about the age of four, she asked me what of hers would I like for her go leave to me. I had virtually no concept of ownership…or death, for that matter. But I had developed the mischievous curiosity that draws young laddies to the mystery and power of weaponry. I looked around her central Texas dining room and noticed a small box of pearl-handled fruit knives on display. They were a wedding present when she married the farmer Meek Byers and accompanied him in the grand adventure of uprooting Tennessee roots for the semi desert of west Texas-thorny and cantankerous as was necessary for the stalwart pioneers to tame the cat claw, mesquite, and purple sage into land tillable for King Cotton. The small silver blades protruding from the beautiful pearl handles merely represented to me the danger of possessing sharp instruments capable of committing the kind of mayhem a four year old might fantasize he was capable of launching that manner of derring-do. I pointed at the knife box and said “those.”

    And today those esteemed utensils lie in a trunk beside me here in this new house. They alone represent the 65 year struggle following that innocent outburst. May it please the final court of judgment that I should survive as well as my oldest possessions. And that’s the way it shakes, any way you cut it.

    • Hazel says

      Some items in our possession hold so much more than themselves. They are a history book in the making. “They alone represent the 65 year struggle following that innocent outburst.”
      Thank you for sharing the story of the three little knives. Have you thought of writing that book?

  14. Sheila McGinley says

    Every once in a while, after a long struggle and loneliness in myself, I awaken to the morning, open my eyes to the sunlight with pieces of a poem or quotation slipping from my mind. While I try to reach for those words that belong to another, something I must write- right now- forms in me, as if my mind has knit me together into a single piece of art as I slept, the wordy left and the image-filled right brain for the moment at peace with each other, handing their creation out to me as if I have just birthed a baby with no struggle, no pain. I know that baby, immediately, as a perfect piece of me. Not perfect writing, no. But perfect me. And if I don’t get distracted, if I sit right then and write, I am stunned by my likeness sitting there, separate from me and yet mine. And the magic slips back into me until the next unpredictable coming.

    Someday, somewhere, that knit-together creation will come to stay, will stand in front of me long enough to be touched, explored, fondled, known, will shine with fierce brightness across my life. It may not make writing itself any easier, but I will have in me such faith in the coming together that I will just wait quietly at night, eyes open and expectant, for the bright fierceness to show its colors, for the images and words to fill my mind.

    • beverly Boyd says

      Sheila,
      Thank you for sharing this precious space with us where the “wordy left and the image-filled right for the moment are at peace with each other.” For me it is the space between the dense physical and the limitless spiritual planes…when I feel most alive in the present…where my creativity is channeled though my pen or paint bush or the Rosen body work I practice.
      Even a few seconds in this space can have life changing effect. I hope you continue to experience and appreciate it.

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