Come sit

Come sit in a flute,

near my root, 

catch your breath

then be still.

Don't be shocked 

by the sound of a heartbeat, 

or worried by laughter in the air.

Remnants of visitors hang everywhere.

 Refresh, take a nap,

sit in silence.

No shoulds allowed

anywhere near here.

 But if you love magic,

hang around with eyes wide, 

behold, the spirits will dance tonight.

Turning love of ritual into daily prayer

My only serious practice of religion was at a lovely Episcopal Church in Eugene, Oregon in the 1970s. My husband at the time decided he would study religion and become a priest. I embraced his career move, became a parishioner, studied and was baptized and confirmed, and joined church life. It was an easy transition mostly because the conduct of the church matched my penchant for ritual and ceremony. I could be found at every Sunday evening service because I was enthralled with the sound of the plainsong choir in their brown, hooded, floor-length robes, the shiny sanctus bells that added exclamation points to the text, and the intoxicating smell of frankincense belched from the thurible waved among parishioners seated in the nave. I can still hear the clanking of the chain against the metal housing, and remember how alive and connected I felt afterward.

You never know what you might find in the woods

"Would it be okay if I set up my alter on my deck?" I ask our Peruvian shaman. I hurry to explain that my deck, which is 30 feet up from the ground, is easier to get to for ritual offerings to Pachamama. He frowns, then considers for a moment.

"I will say yes on one condition. You can't have a relationship with Pachamama without getting dirty, so promise me you will get your hands in the dirt."

Live in peace with dukkha

Because they can thrive in drought or moist, poor or rich soil and are equally at home in shade or full sun, Bergenia might be the perfect symbol for living in peace with dukkha.

If you hang around a meditation group or attend a meditation retreat you will hear about dukkha. Dukkha is a term that comes from the Buddha, has no direct translation in English and was the first of his Noble Truths. Many think dukkha means suffering; life brings suffering. This culture has produced bumper stickers that use slightly different words with the same connotation, "life's a bitch and then you die," "shit happens." Dukkha doesn't actually mean suffering. What it means is that because all things are constantly changing and therefore impermanent, we live with discontent; unhappy because life regularly fails to meet our expectations. In other words, dukkha is our reluctance to go with the natural flow. Peter Russell describes dukkha as our resistance to experiencing the moment, wishing things were different, hanging on to notions of the way things should be. There are two things we need to learn about dukkha.

Lessons from nature

Cytisus Scoparius, Scotch Broom, like other non-native species, teaches us about the unintended consequences of disturbing the natural order.

Buy local

Fresher.

Friendlier.

When you make your mark . . .

. . . try not to do so at Mother Nature's expense.

Worship the bees

Due to habitat destruction, pesticides, non-native plantings and climate change honey bees are in danger. As a result fruits, nuts and vegetables that rely on pollination from bees are in peril--either of disappearing altogether or being priced beyond our budgets. One-third of our food supply relies on healthy working bees. If you love fresh fruits and vegetables, worship bees by making a positive contribution with like-minded people at The Honeybee Conservancy. 

Stop and look at the trees

Research shows gazing out the window at nature can help heal the sick, boost the self-esteem of the insecure, calm the stressed and restore the exhausted. Double coupons when you get out of your seat and go for a walk.

What if . . .

we were only willing to accept water the color and clarity it is at its source?

It's there for the taking each day

Mother Nature teaches us to add an exclamation point to our morning with a magic moment to set a positive intention for the day . . . 

. . . and in the evening an electric moment to be grateful for the blessings we received.

Law of the land

There's a sign on the way out of the Molokai airport that warns tourists to slow down. Indeed the only place I see people move fast is in one of the grocery stores where customers and employees crowd the isles, half of them filling their carts, the other half filling the shelves behind them. The chatter among them reveals relationships are monumentally more important than the transactions going on. Outside you find only moseying. No one is in a hurry here, and it doesn't matter how much of a hurry you want to impose, the law of he land says you go Molokai speed.