Getting naked and liking it

Actually, being the prude I am, this is not referring to my body. It is a reference to the trees of late autumn slowly becoming bare as breeze and winter take hold.

Now only the most tenacious leaves cling to to their branches, and barren, gray tree trunks abound. In this new place near the lake, I thought I would feel cold and empty as winter approaches.

But instead, the nakedness of it all opens up vistas never seen in summer. Suddenly all the little wood cabins and large expensive homes appear without cover. As I walk or drive on the two-lane road bordering the lake, now I see through the open woods to the water and up the hillsides.

Always the seasons of the natural world hold lessons for the seasons of our lives. I see that the spectacular golden autumn passes in an instant to the gray barren openness. It is refreshing and without guise instead of frightening or without comfort.

In our manicured neighborhoods where leaves kill lawn and all must be carefully tended, we lose sight of the true cycles of Nature. I loved being here in these woods, very near whatever I need in town, but just far away enough to let Nature have her way. It is freeing. It is naked relief.

The frost of the past nights has wilted my few potted plants as I did not know to bring them in for the winter. Or, I had an inkling but stubbornly wanted to let all run its course. There will be new life in the spring, and I will awaken to new shoots and new growth in due time.

Right now I witness the letting go, the wilting and preparation for winter sleep, the readiness of lying fallow.

Thank you, God.

Trust and Faith

This morning there is the darkness and feelings of not being enough.

Fortunately I realize it is about sharing this with others and in general not trusting that I will be accepted for my true self.

Perhaps blogs, like diaries, need to be kept private. Once we are self-conscious and know the Other might read and criticize — or worse, ignore — who we are through our writing, then the jig’s up.

Trust is always what I need and what I often lack. And then I think of the mustard seed, as in faith as tiny as a mustard seed and all will be fine. What is the difference?

Trust

1.	reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence.

2.	confident expectation of something; hope.

Faith

1.	confidence or trust in a person or thing: faith in another’s ability.

2.	belief that is not based on proof:.

I lose hope and any confidence that I am ok when I don’t have trust or faith. These definitions are careful to say “person or thing,” rather than… Hmm, ok, it could still mean I lose hope and confidence in myself. You can have hope and confidence in the world at large and still not trust that you have a place there.

Like the old ideas of universe and God as machine, I harbor that idea that as the parts were churned out on the conveyor belt, I was one of the malformed ones to be thrown away.

If I take out the possibility of someone else reading this and talk just to myself, then I can see how sad and ridiculous this image is for me. I don’t believe in an assembly line of human beings. I don’t believe that any person is unworthy or without purpose or contribution in the world.

So for today, this gray autumn Monday with most of the leaves on the ground and friends distant or unavailable, I remember trust. Trust that each child born into this world brings meaning and hope just by her birth. Trust that each person is worthy. Trust that living each day is sufficient to that day.

I am always thankful at the end of writing, that the darkness of the soul finds a tiny source of light and it expands through self-expression and grace.

Remembering the Sun is Always There

I just read some of Susan Albert’s posts on the “Telling Her Stories” blog (http://www.storycircle.typepad.com/). I am amazed and inspired by her writing and those of the other women writing on that blog.

I do not know Susan personally, but I know that she must be an incredibly prolific, determined, multi-tasking wonder of a woman because of all she does and all she says.

And still, even with being able to do all these things, she lets us know that she experiences the full spectrum of feelings — not only the bright colors and sunny days, but the black, gray, blue of depression and sadness and the times of being lost in the night.

My tendency is always to compare and feel how small and wasteful I am of my own life’s talents, but this has not been helpful. Instead, I will simply rejoice that some women put their thoughts and feelings into action and words for us to live by and to be inspired.

My own hope is to touch, inspire and empower. The new promise I can see is that it is possible to do that without being perfect oneself. Even more amazing is that others are not afraid of the dark and they write even from those fearful, hidden places, daring to bring them to the light of day.

I have had an intuition that many threads of my life will come together by my 62nd birthday, April 2009. Usually I just have an image of the chaotic strands on the back side of a tapestry, tangled and hopelessly intertwined so they could never be separated and neatly tied up. I imagine that the image of the life tapestry on the other side will only be understood and seen at death.

But today I have this excitement that I may see a portion of the image in these next months as I approach the April milestone. I am feeling that there is hope to continue exploring in the dark, seeing other people’s guideposts and lighthouses, at the same time that my own expressions might prove a guidepost or lighthouse to someone else on their journey.

In Unity’s Daily Word yesterday, I was reminded that temporary cloud cover and storms only hide the truth of the sun’s presence from us temporarily. It is always there during the day, even when we don’t see it. In the same way, Spirit is with us night and day, whether we feel lost or overflowing with joy.

Thank you, God.

Coming to Terms with the Polarity

Thanks to a healing memoir writing group, I am managing to embrace both light and dark with so much more compassion. The inner critic wants to ridicule my baby steps toward balance and hold all in contempt.

But this sad critic has had too much power for too long. You, Harmful Critic, must agree to let go of 95% of your power, or I will need to send you packing. You may lurk and mutter to yourself, but you may only make your way into my inner conversation when it suits me.

Those are the new rules, and those who disagree can go find their own blog in which to hold court.

Let all who enter here now speak with love from the heart or proceed to other spaces!