FIREFLIES AND FROGS

The fireflies are out again. Last night I watched them from my deck. The air was silent and the darkness so still which made the beauty of the fireflies all the more brilliant. They twinkled by the hundreds, maybe even thousands, in the shadowy tree tops. It felt like each tree was part of a merry festival and I was an outsider allowed to watch but not join in because I lacked the necessary body part to party with them. I didn’t mind. I felt like I was in a fairyland, mesmerized by a magical show of pretty white lights sparkling like stars against the night sky. To top it off, all of this was accompanied by the peaceful croaking of night frogs, deep and soulful, nature’s musicians for the enchanting light show going on above them.

There’s something about stepping away from our man-made contraptions and entering the naked world of Mother Earth. I seem to return to my basic nature. Stepping into the night, I felt immediately at peace. It was just me and Mother Nature, nothing in-between. It felt comfortable and familiar. I could breathe easy again. The quiet of the night filled me up and enveloped me like a cozy cocoon. The fireflies and frogs were like icing on the cake, breathtaking and soothing at the same time. It felt simple and real.

Simple and real. If only we could keep all things simple and real. We live in a complicated world. Our lives have become so complex and full of this and that and what not and everything in-between. We don’t know if we’re coming or going, staying or leaving. Everything and everyone wants and needs our attention now, tomorrow, yesterday. We’re moving so fast through our lives, we forget to breathe. We forget who we are.

I know that my sanity hinges on stopping and slowing down the hectic pace of my body and especially my mind. If I don’t find some quiet time to just sit or close my eyes in silence and breathe, even if it’s only for 5 minutes, I start to feel very unsettled and out-of-sorts. I begin to lose myself and I become more reactive to people and situations versus thoughtful and conscientious. In other words, I begin to turn into an ugly monster. My family can testify to this.  

Being in Mother Nature always brings me back to who I am. All it takes is stopping and paying attention.  Look around, really see and breathe in, close your eyes and feel, touch with your mind fully present. I guarantee you’ll soon feel your heart smiling. It’s smiling because you’re in touch with who you are again. You’re back home and there’s nothing better than that feeling of peace in your soul.  Bring on the fireflies and frogs. Let the party begin…

BECOMING

Sometimes we wander our whole lives

Wondering who we are.

Growing up thinking we’re someone,

Realizing later we aren’t

That person anymore…

Or never was.

We’re constantly shedding

Our old identities

For new ones, better ones,

Wiser ones,

Happier ones.

We confuse ourselves with multiple identities

And travel paths of continuous renewal

Without even being aware of how

We’re metamorphosing more deeply

Into whom we want to be.

Succumb to the journey.

Grow your soul.

You are becoming.  

LEARNING FROM TREES

Today is a glorious day. The sky is clear, the sun is bright, a cool little breeze is blowing, and birds are singing everywhere. My neighborhood is filled with peace all because of beautiful Mother Nature. I feel more alive and vibrant on days like today. It’s as if the peace I feel outside my body is transformed into a liquidy balm of sweetness that oozes into every corner of my body and being.

I’m sitting on my front porch, reading and writing. People and creatures are going about their daily business. Bees are busy buzzing, little white butterflies are twittering about, and it’s so calm and peaceful even Dale, our resident chipmunk, has come to visit, sunning himself on our top step.

Towering above our neighborhood are giant white oak trees, standing twice as tall as our homes. I’ve always loved trees. I used to live in a pecan orchard amongst rows and rows of graceful pecan trees. Since then, I’ve come to view all trees as silent guardians, always present, day in and day out, no matter what conditions are like outside. They possess a majesty and in their silence, an air of mystery.

Sometimes, when all seems calm and quiet here close to the ground, you can hear a swishing and rustling of leaves seeming to come from far away. Looking up, you realize it’s the topmost branches of the oaks catching the wind in their part of the sky, dancing and swaying in ever expansive and graceful ripples. Their rhythm is beautiful to watch and soothing to listen to.

Marveling at the plethora of trees and blooming flowers around me, I’m reminded once again of something I read a long time ago. I can’t remember the exact words, but the message went something like this: “Look at that beautiful daisy; it cares not about the beautiful rose growing next to it. See that young pine tree; it cares not about the tall oak standing next to it. They cower not in self-comparison to their neighbor. They grow steady and strong, only eager and concerned with who they are and need to be, knowing there will never grow another daisy like itself, nor another pine like itself.”  

When I’m experiencing a bout of self-doubt, I think about this passage. Trees and flowers grow because they must, without giving thought to their neighbor. They don’t stunt themselves into growing less, into being less, because of who’s growing next to them. They grow proudly into who they’re meant to be. They stand tall and grow tall to show off their own unique beauty, to join together with their tall and flowering neighbors as a gift to the world.

I think about them and try to follow their example. I know, you’re saying they’re only trees and flowers with no minds of their own, who grow because of instinct. Yes, yes, that’s probably true, but give them credit for displaying a stoic spirit and strength of character…just by being who they are. Plus, haven’t you heard of plants growing better when spoken kindly and lovingly to? Just ask Prince Charles. (But seriously, it’s true.)

Trees, flowers, all plants for that matter, surely have a spirit all their own. They show us how to be ourselves, to grow into who we’re meant to be and not worry about comparing ourselves to anyone else. We’re all unique. There’s no one else like you or me. We could all learn from a tree.

GRANDMA

I dreamed of my Grandma last night and ended up crying in my dream so hard I woke myself up. Upon waking, in my delirious half-conscious state of that God-forsaken early morning hour, I began to cry again because I remembered seeing my Grandma and crying in my dream! And when I say crying, I don’t mean head-bent-with-silent-tears-rolling-down-my-face crying. I was sobbing – scrunched up eyes, twisted mouth, shoulders shuddering, short of hysterics type of bawling, even when I woke. Talk about wet dreams! 

In my dream, I seemed to be on some type of stage or platform, looking out over a room full of people milling about. It’s like I was at a party or social gathering of some sort.  There, in the middle of the room, surrounded by chatting people, was my Grandmother. She stood there quietly, not moving, not smiling, not frowning, just looking serenely at me through her glasses. For some reason, I began to sob in my dream.

My grandma died on July 6, 2011. She was a strong, no-nonsense lady who’d suffered as a very young girl but went on to live a very good life, dying at the age of 91. I remember her as a petite, vibrant woman full of spunk who was a good cook, a fervent sewer of patchwork blankets, stern but loving, and the cleanest housekeeper I ever did know.

I don’t know why I cried last night. Loved ones have visited me in my dreams before and I didn’t cry then. I hadn’t gone to bed feeling especially sad or stressed. Maybe I cried because it was unexpected. Maybe it was because of the way she looked. Maybe it’s because I miss her. Maybe because it was Grandma and she made the effort to come, to say she’s still here, still cares, and still watching. Whatever the reason, I’m grateful.