Driving back from town to the Retreat Center I closed in on a short line of cars going very slow on a road that usually clips along at 50 mph. As the ribbon of cars bent around a curve, I spied the culprit, a John Deere tractor in the lead. I settled into my seat, expecting to poke along for the 5 or so miles I had left to travel. The folks ahead of me must have been anxious to get home for as soon as the double yellow lines became single, they zipped around the tractor at break neck speed. When it was my turn to pass, the road was seeing double again, so I had a front seat behind Mr. John Deere, with its large air-conditioned cab and tinted windows.
Glistening in the light of the setting sun, I noticed very large lettering on the back window of the cab which read:
Recently, a retreatant and I were in conversation about our mutual experiences working with the homeless. We shook our heads in unison over the plight of the poor and marginalized, a kinship born out of mutual frustration and then... it happened. It was so subtle, I almost missed it, but woven into the conversation, he referred to me as a "person of privilege."
I suppose he labeled me a "person of privilege" because I'm white. My reaction was one of curiosity, not quite understanding how this virtual stranger could assume I led a privileged life based solely on the color of my skin. I didn't draw attention to his choice of words, but since his departure, I hear the echo of his voice and wonder.
My dear friend Mark has forever spoken wistfully of spring lilacs in his native Pennsylvania. The sweet signature fragance of these young bushes lured me into the back yard. In honor of you, my friend, I buried my nose in the soft blossoms and breathed deeply.
Several years ago, I was reading New Begnnings I, by Abraham-Hicks. The subject of abundance, creation and miscreation was presented in a way that has forever altered me.
THERE IS ENOUGH IN THIS WORLD FOR EVERONE, WITHOUT ANYONE GOING WITHOUT.
Embracing this concept has led me on a journey, leaving the security of a well-paying job behind to pursue writing poetry without any visible means of support. It's taken a lot of retraining for me to live this tenet in full faith. This is America after all...manifest destiny and the pursuit of more has been the mantra fed to me since early childhood. It's every man for himself and if you work hard enough, you can achieve the American dream. Only problem is, how are we fed in a world such as this? We work hard, we make money, we buy things, we work harder, to make more money, to buy more things, and still we are hungry, disconnected and exhausted.
With $32 to last 21 days, you would think I might be in a bit of a panic, but yesterday, I said outloud, "whatever I need will be provided and there is ample abundance for everyone." Today, someone called to book a retreat. It's a small group of women who are utterly exhausted and they wanted to know if someone could cook for them. We don't provide meals at the Retreat Center, but I do cook on a case-by-case basis for a modest fee.
Do you see how clever the Universe is at bringing forth abundance?
It isn't because I haven't had anything to say... It isn't because I don't adore each of you who peek through my window to the world... It isn't because this process has grown tedious or boring or time-consuming... It's simply a matter of placing my energies where they serve me best.
The emergence of Spring in Middle Tennessee has been nothing short of spectacular. After hunkering down in multiple layers of clothes in front of the fireplace for 2-3 months, I've been spending every possible moment outdoors. Doing what you ask? For starters...
1. Breathing 2. Listening 3. Stretching 4. Looking up 5. Looking down 6. Looking left 7. Looking right 8. Basking in the sun 9. Climbing 10. Sitting
Every day Mocha and I hike (almost every day) and the transformation of the trails from barren to explosions of fragile and feathery foliage and blossoms have captivated me.
I'm accustomed to wildflowers you can see easily from the back seat of a car barrelling 70 miles an hour down the interstate. It takes a big, bold, garrish Texas wildflower to pull that off.
Wildflowers in Middle Tennessee are different. I had been walking past a horde of wildflowers without realizing the banquet of flora in my path. They are subtle. At first look, you can't even see them. Then, as you let your focus relax, suddenly, they come into view and you realize within a 2-3 foot radius, you are seeing 4 or 5 different wildflowers. Trout lillies, spurge, trillium, purple, yellow and white violets, etc...
It's been a wonderful experience and rather than prattle on and on, straining for yet another adjective, I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.
This blog was created to give my family and friends a bird's eye view of the journey I am on. If you read something that resonates with you and you'd like to plaster it on your refrigerator, bathroom mirror, cubicle wall or share it with someone you love, I am honored. If you read something that resonates with you and you pass it off as your own...shame on you.
Most everything on this blog was created from my heart and mind. If I share other writers' work, their name is credited.