Saturday, September 27, 2014
Little Feathers: No Mistakes
Little Feathers: No Mistakes: Regret, I hate you. You drag me down You make me want to hide. Regret, child of self centered thought. My first response To hide, to d...
No Mistakes
Regret, I hate you.
You drag me down
You make me want to hide.
Regret, child of self centered thought.
My first response
To hide, to deny, to blame.
But you will linger on
Like a bully, waiting to pounce.
Regret, who made you?
Me? Surely not.
I would choose perfection,
If I ignore you, you will disappear.
Still, you whisper
Your lies of power over me.
But I get to choose.
Maybe I'll call your bluff.
Change the past?
Can I go back and undo, re-do?
No. But I can learn.
And grow and forgive and be forgiven.
Regret, my teacher?
I shudder to think so.
And yet, what better use
For you than clearer sight?
Regret, come sit.
I'll tell you true
That you are part of a tale
A necessary part of any story.
Now, let's work
On your bedside manner.
Put away your false intimidation
And help me see my way from here.
Thanks, Regret. That'll do. Til next time.
You drag me down
You make me want to hide.
Regret, child of self centered thought.
My first response
To hide, to deny, to blame.
But you will linger on
Like a bully, waiting to pounce.
Regret, who made you?
Me? Surely not.
I would choose perfection,
If I ignore you, you will disappear.
Still, you whisper
Your lies of power over me.
But I get to choose.
Maybe I'll call your bluff.
Change the past?
Can I go back and undo, re-do?
No. But I can learn.
And grow and forgive and be forgiven.
Regret, my teacher?
I shudder to think so.
And yet, what better use
For you than clearer sight?
Regret, come sit.
I'll tell you true
That you are part of a tale
A necessary part of any story.
Now, let's work
On your bedside manner.
Put away your false intimidation
And help me see my way from here.
Thanks, Regret. That'll do. Til next time.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Little Feathers: That pesky little nay sayer...
Little Feathers: That pesky little nay sayer...: I understand the truth, and the importance, of the advice to surround ourselves with people who bring out our best selves. Because I can nev...
That pesky little nay sayer...
I understand the truth, and the importance, of the advice to surround ourselves with people who bring out our best selves. Because I can never be good enough, never be faultless or blameless, because I need the healing balm of grace every day of my life, I do want to give myself the best allies in the quest to live a good life.
There is a little naysayer inside who condemns. Who questions motives, who compares. I have a variety of standard responses to the naysayer. Some, I can't write here. But some are pathetic first responses that need to be addressed, so my self esteem can be talked off the ledge.
The naysayer wants me to believe that I am never enough. That naysayer loves to hook up with negative energy coming from both myself and people with critical natures. There are lessons to be learned there, in that moment of despair when I realize I've messed up again. If I thought I was above making mistakes, that would truly be self deception. But, my choices for what to do with that information are the key to turning the reality of my faults into help, or harm, for myself.
I know a really wise woman who believes with all her heart that we ought to love, and be grateful for, our imperfections. That it is those very aspects of ourselves that drive us outside of ourselves to look for our redemption. She says that embracing our imperfections are in fact a way of being grateful that we are alive. It is very different notion from using our human frailties as an excuse to behave badly. It is, in fact, the opposite.
Requiring perfection for fear of losing the love of our dear ones, including our creator, is an exercise in self flagellation. Yet, the pesky little naysayer wants me to fear. Fear failure. Fear loss. Fear grief. The antidote to fear is not my own courage. It is my own desire to allow myself to be forgiven. To live in gratitude for grace itself.
There are many people in my life who give me grace all the time. It is the gift that keeps on giving. And, it is the gift that grows more powerful when shared with others. Take that, naysayer!
There is a little naysayer inside who condemns. Who questions motives, who compares. I have a variety of standard responses to the naysayer. Some, I can't write here. But some are pathetic first responses that need to be addressed, so my self esteem can be talked off the ledge.
The naysayer wants me to believe that I am never enough. That naysayer loves to hook up with negative energy coming from both myself and people with critical natures. There are lessons to be learned there, in that moment of despair when I realize I've messed up again. If I thought I was above making mistakes, that would truly be self deception. But, my choices for what to do with that information are the key to turning the reality of my faults into help, or harm, for myself.
I know a really wise woman who believes with all her heart that we ought to love, and be grateful for, our imperfections. That it is those very aspects of ourselves that drive us outside of ourselves to look for our redemption. She says that embracing our imperfections are in fact a way of being grateful that we are alive. It is very different notion from using our human frailties as an excuse to behave badly. It is, in fact, the opposite.
Requiring perfection for fear of losing the love of our dear ones, including our creator, is an exercise in self flagellation. Yet, the pesky little naysayer wants me to fear. Fear failure. Fear loss. Fear grief. The antidote to fear is not my own courage. It is my own desire to allow myself to be forgiven. To live in gratitude for grace itself.
There are many people in my life who give me grace all the time. It is the gift that keeps on giving. And, it is the gift that grows more powerful when shared with others. Take that, naysayer!
Monday, September 22, 2014
Little Feathers: Signposts
Little Feathers: Signposts: As much as I love looking at the stars, I'm surprised I haven't learned more about them. I have said for years that I'm going to...
Signposts
As much as I love looking at the stars, I'm surprised I haven't learned more about them. I have said for years that I'm going to learn more constellations. But so far, I haven't followed through. There is one that is deep in my mind, though. When I was a kid, my mom and dad would point out the Big Dipper to me, showing me the handle and the bowl of it. I was always amazed that it followed us around, showing up where ever we were.
Last night, Lucy and I were taking a stroll around the driveway (it's long at our Spicewood house) and I could see the Big Dipper, low over the big empty pasture next to our house. I thought about where that Dipper likes to show up when we are at the cabin. You have to look just above the little pine tree that grows near the deck on the north side. But that same tilt, like someone was ladling out water from a bucket, that same jaunty handle and bowl. I remember the stories of how slaves looking for freedom were encouraged to "follow the drinking gourd" and go north. It always made sense to me that the constellation that would point the way was a symbol for life giving water, a drink for the thirsty. And we are all thirsty.
With all the ups and downs of life, the joys and the tragedies, it is nice to have some constants. Some signposts that not everything is shifting sand. Every morning the sun comes up. And when the night sky is clear, if you live in the northern hemisphere, you will see the Big Dipper. It is there whether you are happy or grieving. It is there whether you are sick or well.
Compared to the stars, the history of us humans is incredibly short. If I am looking for constancy, I can't look to the ancient buildings in Egypt. They are crumbling, and someday will be gone. I can't look to the ancient writings, even the holy ones; if not renewed, they will be gone someday. But the writings of the creator will be here to the end. The stars, the sun and moon. How fitting, for me, that looking up is the solace I need. Looking away from myself into the vastness of the cosmos doesn't make me feel insignificant. It makes me feel incredibly blessed that I was put here to experience this wild journey that is life. I am the opposite of alone when I look up and see that Big Dipper. I am part of the history of mankind. One more human who looks with awe at the night sky. A tiny part, for sure. A very, very temporary part. But the Dipper is pointing toward freedom. And we are all looking for freedom.
Last night, Lucy and I were taking a stroll around the driveway (it's long at our Spicewood house) and I could see the Big Dipper, low over the big empty pasture next to our house. I thought about where that Dipper likes to show up when we are at the cabin. You have to look just above the little pine tree that grows near the deck on the north side. But that same tilt, like someone was ladling out water from a bucket, that same jaunty handle and bowl. I remember the stories of how slaves looking for freedom were encouraged to "follow the drinking gourd" and go north. It always made sense to me that the constellation that would point the way was a symbol for life giving water, a drink for the thirsty. And we are all thirsty.
With all the ups and downs of life, the joys and the tragedies, it is nice to have some constants. Some signposts that not everything is shifting sand. Every morning the sun comes up. And when the night sky is clear, if you live in the northern hemisphere, you will see the Big Dipper. It is there whether you are happy or grieving. It is there whether you are sick or well.
Compared to the stars, the history of us humans is incredibly short. If I am looking for constancy, I can't look to the ancient buildings in Egypt. They are crumbling, and someday will be gone. I can't look to the ancient writings, even the holy ones; if not renewed, they will be gone someday. But the writings of the creator will be here to the end. The stars, the sun and moon. How fitting, for me, that looking up is the solace I need. Looking away from myself into the vastness of the cosmos doesn't make me feel insignificant. It makes me feel incredibly blessed that I was put here to experience this wild journey that is life. I am the opposite of alone when I look up and see that Big Dipper. I am part of the history of mankind. One more human who looks with awe at the night sky. A tiny part, for sure. A very, very temporary part. But the Dipper is pointing toward freedom. And we are all looking for freedom.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Little Feathers: In the Wee Hours
Little Feathers: In the Wee Hours: I drove back to the cabin from Santa Fe in the wee hours last night. At first, I was feeling sorry for myself that my plane had been delayed...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)