Control

 

By Our Love

 

Rumi, mirrors, and windows

 

It’s been an intense few weeks. There’s been lots of refining moments. Lots of contrast. Some pretty hard bits. Some pretty okay bits. Some wonderful, heaven bits.

Bits where I feel like God’s moving in every partial of my life. Living spirit flowing, and living, and dwelling in hearts, and temples, and softening, and loving, and growing us all together.

I keep coming and writing tidbits down, and thoughts. And then stuff happens, life, and in-between I write some more. 

I had been feeling ill yesterday, but today I feel some better. My stomach is sore from throwing up...ugg...

And now, I have a bunch of words, and am wondering how to piece them all together. Hence some mini blog posts, instead of a huge one.

So I wanted to write down some beautiful moments, that seemed like God was totally showing off for me and my sister.

It started out with a string of events, all of them interconnected. And beautiful because it seems whether its rainbows appearing in random places, light shining through glass knobs, casting colors and light across the room, or rainbows in the sky, and Rumi quotes, and Mirrors, and windows.

I feel seen, and heard. It feels like God showing off to me, yet again.

And I want to write down what it is I see. 

With all the kindness that has been going on with my neighbors, I really do believe, when we truly love our neighbors as ourselves, they will be a beautiful mirror to God, to the divine, to the beloved, in some way.

Weeks ago, actually a few months ago. One of my family members seemed distressed, I don’t always know what to do or say to help people, so sometimes I give people foot or hand massages. Because sometimes that's the best way I know how to be present with them.

 In the middle of the massage.

I got of phone call from a neighbor, from Church who said she was my new visiting teacher. I don’t go to church very often, so I was befuddled by the call.

She visited with me on the phone for a while. It was interesting because her husband is related to Stephen Covey, whose book I had read and tapes I had listened to as a teenager a lot, trying to learn how be a better human, and understand the humans I was living with. She seemed like a real, and kind person, so I agreed to let her stop by. And somehow, this string of events led to more visits. 

She gave me a book her husband wrote, just before Christmas.

The book she gave me, was interesting, but mostly the message I needed. It was enough for me to feel as if God knew what I needed to hear at the time. A book about making heart-based choices.

A few weeks ago, she asked me to her house, and I brought a bunch of my musical, and my sister’s musical instruments. Bess couldn’t come, because she was needing to finish up some stuff.

My friend has a big house, and so very many children. She’s a sweet-hearted lady.

I wanted to give some kindness and love back, so I spent an afternoon with her family, and her beautiful children, and husband, and we all made music together. It was a very nice Sunday.

 And then three Sundays ago, she calls on the phone, and asked, if I might play my flute at Church, for an Easter program next week, as she is the Choir director.

I was very nervous, actually. To try, as I hadn’t practiced my flute much. Mostly the flute was something I learned by myself. Taught myself. Played mostly with my sister at the Care center for old people. Never with a choir. My spirit was willing. But my body was scared.

 But I told her I’d look at the music and try it.

So she comes, right on daylight savings time. 

It was a rainbow moment. She was wearing a very blue dress. And her kids had rainbow leggings on. Rainbow colored coat. 

So I figured these guys are my rainbows that day.

So she missed church to come and visit.  She came right out to the goats, where I was milking them, and her two kids started loving on the puppies, Bess came out, and was with one of the kids, while I showed her, and her child, how to milk goats, and all things, animals. They tasted mint out of my greenhouse, that is very patched together. I wish everyone could have seen when it was in full bloom. She was so enthusiastic, it made my heart happy. She wants to learn everything about farming, and animals, and gardening. She’s so eager and so sweet. So wanting to listen. I had a light bulb under one of the hens, in the coup, and she was certain there was a reason for it.

The only reason, had I changed it out for a warmer light, and just left it there, and a chicken sat on it.

It was refreshing, and fun to find someone so eager to learn, and so intent on listening. And who was so excited to learn about goats, and chickens, and gardening. Even though I feel most of what I know, is very simple.

She left after about an hour.

And left me with some music to learn, “Beautiful Savior.”

I practiced it all week, and Bess helped me with rhythms.

I recruited my mom to play the piano, and Bessie to sing along with, so I could get used to syncing up. Also Bess tried the violin with me, and I thought it sounded so good.

I wanted her to play a long with. But she had a lot of things to do on Sunday, and wasn’t sure if she could.

Sunday afternoon rolled around, and I was very nervous. Bess and my mom helped me practice some more, and I was getting very cold nervous fingers.

And this was only a practice, for an Easter program on the 31^st.

Twelve o clock was nearing, so I got myself ready, and was about to head out the door, when Bess decided to come, for moral support. Which I was so grateful for. For so many reasons.

When we got there, we ended up a bit early, so we rounded the halls, with people milling through them, because the main meeting just ended.

When we went into the choir room, we ran into a choir member who was wearing a red tie with Chinese writing written vertically down it. He has always played the piano for the church, and the organ. Always visiting my mom, and bringing cookies he makes.

I was feeling really, nervous. But I ran into the choir director, and she was so sweet.

She was wearing a blue dress, the same as when she visited me the week before, matching the same dark color of blue my sister was also wearing.

And the piano player, was my bee keeper neighbor my sister and I had done a lot of music with over the past. So I was happy about that.

My first attempt, I got a little befuddled. But my friend, was so encouraging, she put me at ease.

“Look at how many right notes you played, and the Holy spirit will make up the difference.” She said something like that. And I felt at peace, and more calm. 

Over all, it went well. Bess was invited to sing in the choir, and so we both sang. And then I played the flute for the last part.

And overall, it was a happy day. And a good one. And Bess and I and the little choir felt good.

Then in the evening, the same man in the Choir with the Chinese tie, came by, and brought us eight shamrock cookies he’d made. I told him thank you, and gave him a hug.

Then the next day, my sister gets a text on her phone, from the same man, asking us if we wanted tickets to a watch a dance group, happening on Saturday. We had seen posters around town, but it was an expensive event. So we hadn’t really considered it.

I guess he had extra tickets, or he and his wife couldn’t go. I’m not really sure. But he came by, and gave us two tickets.

Bess was tickled because she had thought about entering a contest to win two tickets to watch this dance group.

And here they came, two tickets.

My mom didn’t want to go. So Bess and I went.

We both really enjoyed it. But the best thing about it, was how it happened.

 I felt like it was something God orchestrated.

Down to the theme.

Journey, reflections. That was the theme.

A dance of cultures from around the world. It started off with the dancers wheeling in a white double doored window mirror, and the narrator quoting Rumi,

"The truth was a mirror in the hands of God. It fell, and broke into pieces. Everybody took a piece of it, and they looked at it and thought they had the truth.”

 

And so, when I heard those words, I knew that Spirit had orchestrated this whole thing. I’ve never herd Rumi quoted on stage. Ever.

The dances were beautiful. And some of them were mesmerizing. The hand dances were so interesting. They also had a live band, and choir, who did a lot of the music with the dancers. Which was beautiful.

It ended with a dance from The Ukraine. But my favorite was some Bollywood dances from India, and some hand dances from the islands.

Bess and both thought the whole thing was something serendipitous. As she had just scrolled the internet, and there was a contest to win two free tickets to this dance. She didn’t think it was worth all the bother to try and win them.  But she had wanted to.

And then, they just came.

So the whole thing feels very much like a gift from the universe, the man who gave us the tickets, has lights outside his house, with a rainbow pattern.

Shamrocks, and rainbows, and pots of gold show up.

Bess said, last week, she learned that, the meaning of universe. Means, “One, Song.”

I like this.

One song.

The whole universe is just one song. A unified, sound.

And I feel this is true.

And I feel as we all try to make, one sound, as best we can.

We start syncing up, in beautiful ways.

And God orchestrates a string of unlikely events. 

And as we flow, and let in light, we all get to see these beautiful reflections of the truth, everywhere.  

Beautiful moments, in the audience, or on the stage. 

The message is clear. 

We are all pieces of some grand mirror.

All learning to see each other, as ourselves, all learning to love each other.

And when we do, magic happens.

By just saying yes to love as it manifests in our lives.  And being open.

Had I not said yes to playing the flute, and had Bessie decided not to come with me, had something not canceled my neighbors plans, we both might have not seen God dancing for us.

Where it feels like instead of making things happen, beautiful open-hearted moments float in, like gifts.

I couldn’t help but wonder, as I watching the dancers, if God had done this just for me and my sister?

How in sync everyone of the dancers were.

And the audience too, felt in sync as well.

I could feel hearts happily vooming. 

And because this whole event was a gift.

I kept thinking, while I was watching, that God put this whole show on for me and my sister. So I wanted to make sure I paid extra attention.

God was dancing.

Showing off.

But where was he exactly? Was he one members on the stage? Or all of the members?

Or the music?

Or the dances?

 Or in the audience?

Or in the spaces?

 In the lights?

Perhaps that’s the beauty of it.

God is in everything.

How beautiful that is to me. Everywhere, down to the seats, down to the people we were placed by.

God is there. Inside you.

And inside me.

God.

Spirit. Living spirit, working in every space.

In every soul.

God.

Spirit dancing.

The one song. The uni-verse.

If you listen.

You will hear.

Love orchestrating all the best, and beautiful songs.

The uni-verse. A conductor of all conductors. A musician, playing all the notes, and all the people.

And all the choirs, and all the dances, and all the members of the audience too.

And the tickets, and the narration. There is God. In the spaces, and in the faces.

In open hearts, dancing for those who can see.

The tickets are free.

You just have to be willing to come.

And I look around, and wonder…

Do you see God too?

Rainbows, appearing.

People coming at the exact right moment.

Words and books.

And all these things, flowing.

God revealing his story, and glory, a gift at time, a moment at a time.

In this soul, and in that person.

Everywhere, playing every person, and every event.

Shining out through willing players.

Gifts, and grace, and beauty.

And so. I wanted to say thank you. To write it down. For I feel, as if the universe, deserves a standing ovation.

Applause.

For I feel it keeps putting on a show.

For you, and for me.

Do you see it?

God dancing. Teaching you new dance steps.

Everyday.

A polka here, folk dancing, dances from all around the world.

Who would believe me?

And so, I write down the reflections of God I see.

In the mirrors that show up for me.

And say, “I see you.”

 Reflections of God all around us.

Pieces of living truth.

Dancing on the stage of our lives, syncing us up with the universe. The one song, playing us all.

A song that is so beautiful, that once you hear it, you begin to see the conductor working through everyone, and everything.

And, at random moments, I pause, and I look, to see if anyone else sees?

And I feel, very much in awe.

That maybe, just like me, God is okay doing his dance without much notice.

But, you can’t help it, when someone looks.

There’s an element of feeling seen, that changes things. It makes you want to dance a bit more.

And give the see-er, something else to see.

Something more to enjoy.

Because, no matter who you are, being appreciated.

Seen.

Loved.

In whatever way that is given.

Is beautiful.

I think rainbows show off more when they are seen.

I think music shines more when it is heard.

Hearts swell, and open even more, when love is magnified.

And so, the very act of looking, as we all peer into the Mirror of God, magnifies the beauty, and makes it even bigger.

Mirrors, and windows, and Rumi.

The truth.

And you hold a shard of the mirror.

And I do too.

And hopefully we have enough light to see it.

And someday, we will hold up a piece of the mirror we were given, and all sing in harmony.

And what a beautiful day that will be.

When we all see clearly.

And that broken mirror will be made whole.

And we’ll see the face of God, reflected in every one of us.

And in everything. And in the weather, and in our lives.

And in all the elements of love.

And until then…

I feel the universe is putting on an extra special show, for the ones watching.

An extra something, so you know who it is you are really watching.

And the magic is, when the truth is seen, and heard, and loved.

And you know it.

And you appreciate it.

The light, the dance, the music, gets even better, and bigger, and more magnified.

The knowing.

The appreciation.

The show gets better.

The sun shines brighter.

 And the more you see God. The more there is to see.

And that gift, though this journey has had some tough challenges, it has been worth it.

To have gained this knowing.

To know this loving.

To see God's reflections appear before me, so beautiful, so present, and yet so obscure. 

In a child's face. In a book. In the sky.

In a choir. On a stage. In the faces of my neighbors, and friends, and family, and strangers, and in all of life.

"Look," and you will see.

Thank you for letting me see you.

 Even if no one else can. You, God, are so, magnificent, so hidden, and so present.

It’s a wonder it’s taken so long for me to really see you.

Down to the dance, you did for me.

To the window, with a mirror.

And I got to see you.

Thank you for your presence.

You’re a beautiful dancer, God.

Perfect in your steps.

You know every dance, from every country.

And I will always clap for you.

As you are working, overtime, to make this play beautiful.

And I fell in love with your present obscourness.

With your distant, nowness.

With your words that you put in our mouths.

In the nudges you give.

In the canceled plans.

In the redirections.

In the open books, and the flowing streams.

In the smoldering woodchips of life.

You are there.

A master director.

Dancer.

Writer.

Artist.

And you weave us, and dance through us, and around us, and in us.

And over us.

And above us.

And below.

You are master of all things.

You can fix every broken piece, and make all things beautiful.

Thank you for your beautiful showing.

Thank you for all the gifts.

Thank you for giving me the gift, of loving myself.

Thank you for your beautiful grace, and your careful and beautiful kindness. For sending love, even when I didn’t feel lovable, or seen, or even worthy of it.

Thank you.

 

Woodchips and a wheelbarrow

 

                              March 23, 2024

Feel a bit tired today.

                                I’m pretty tired.

                                My arms are sore.

                                My body is feeling exhausted.

                                And my fingers even feel tired.

                                The wind is blowing.

                                It’s gray outside.

                                Sophy is sitting on my lamp, with her feathers foofed out, and her eyes gazing at me, and then closing. Wanting me to turn on the light.

                                Yesterday morning started out alright.

                                Bess and I were taking care of the puppies, and loving on them, when I noticed a steam rising from heap of woodchips in our old garden. Actually, the tree trimmers, were trimming branches around the neighborhood power lines, and my sister asked if they could leave some of the wood chips, so we could mulch around our yard, and use it to fill in a huge indent in our driveway that makes a huge puddle when it rains. 

The mote in our driveway came about when my parents first separated, and our house nearly got flooded, when my dad was irrigating the field, our neighbor saw the water a flooding us, and dug a trench to help the water go back where it should. And it’s been a beautiful reflection pond, bird bath, ever since. But it’s really not that great when you need to park.

Also we wanted some woodchips to and cover some puncture weed patches.

                                Bess told them they could dump as much as they wanted in our old garden by the side of the road.

We weren’t sure they were actually going to dump the wood chips, as we had asked them before, and they hadn’t.

But this year.

I think we got all the neighbor tree’s chips. They would trim branches around the neighborhood, and then come back. They’d dumped several, I think three four for truckloads.

                                So it was a humongous pile.

                                Anyhow, while we were playing with the puppies, I noticed steam, or smoke rising from this pile. The puppies like to escape and climb onto the is huge pile, and play king of the mountain, then slide down.

                I was concerned because of so much steam was rising. So I went to the pile, and dug down with my hands, and found it was quite warm. The day before, Thursday, the sun was very hot, I did koto lessons outside, and felt a bit sunburned afterward. Then this beautiful storm came out of nowhere, after lessons, and it started this fine rain, with mostly blue sky, and then a beautiful rainbow appeared.

It was quite magic, and I felt it was just for me. This rainbow. And this sudden bit of rain.

                But the woodchips were wet from the rain, on top. But they were also very wet from just been green wood. There were a bunch of willow branches that had been chopped, and cedar, and lots of elm, and I’m not sure what else. But it was wet on top, and wet in the inside.

                And the sun being so warm, I think was making this heat up a lot.

                I asked Bess for her opinion, and she was thinking it was just giving off a lot of energy.

                At first, I was thinking she was right.

                I came back to it later…

                And dug deeper.

                IT was very, very hot. And in places, it was super moldy, and in the moldy places it was hot enough to be unpleasant to my skin.

                This caused much concern. And this was not a small pile of wood. This was several, three or more truckloads of woodchips, next to our woodshop, and our little building, and heaps, and heaps of wood from my sister’s wood business.

I was worried about it combusting.

                I didn’t have a tractor.

                Only a will barrow.

                My sister was busy, with music lessons.

                I wasn’t sure what to do. Do I leave it be?

            Or...try and do something, just in case?

            One part of me wanted to leave it. It'd be fine.

        Then the other part. Said I should do something about it. 

                But it was so very hot. I hadn’t milked the goats, or done my morning chores.

                So I did the only thing I knew how.

                I got the wheelbarrow out.

And scooped, and scooped, and wheeled and dumped the woodchips, and spread them out.

Me and my little wheelbarrow. Back and forth, scooping. I kept thinking maybe I was being too concerned.

Then I’d dig deep down, and find more moldy patches, that were so very hot.

                So I’d keep going.

                In some places, the wood was dense, I think because they had chopped mostly just twigs, and branches.

                It felt a bit rude to my body, to be working so hard, but I didn’t know what else to do. So I just kept scooping, and dumping. Probably too frantically. I was trying not to be. I wanted to feel steady. And calm. 

        But when you're working that fast. Your body thinks otherwise. At time's like those, it's good to pause, and calm yourself. 

                I saw farmers pass with tractors. That could have really  made short work of this.

Sigh.

But we kept going, me and my wheelbarrow, and God.

I stopped to milk goats.

                My sister had a moment to pause, and I showed her how hot it was in the moldy patches.

                She took a turn while I did goats.

                Then she had get ready to teach music lessons.

                So I went back and scooped some more.

                A neighbor stopped in, and I paused for moment, to show her puppies.

Then back to the woodpile.

                A wheelbarrow at a time.

                One wheelbarrow at time. I was covered in sawdust, and my shoes were filled with woodchips.

Sometimes it was so hot in places, it felt like the whole thing was just gassing off heat.

 I did this until I just was too exhausted to do any more, and the mountain of woodchips was quite diminished.

When I finally stopped, my body was so hot, it felt like I’d absorbed the heat from the woodchips.

I was so hot.

Then Bess and her little violin student wanted to sing together, so we all sang. My nephew was at my house, so all four of us sang, and made music together. It was a beautiful moment. 

Then Bess needed to get some pallets, so we hauled some pallets back, and then she paused, and did some more woodchips.

And I took a long rest.

                There are still heaps left. But My sister took over for a bit in the evening.

                And God must have heard my concern, because it rained that night, and has been raining since.

                And though it’s probably hot and soggy all the way through. It’s not such a big pile now.

                It’s weird. Life.

                Sometimes you don’t really know what to do.

                To leave the woodchip pile as it is?

                Or to do what you can, and hope for the best.

                So you start doing what you can, one load at time. Though it feels like your chipping away at huge mountain. 

                I need to remind myself that pausing is a good idea. Also breathing in and out.

            So you can feel yourself.

            And not get so tired.  

            And when you pause, you can hear spirit speaking, which always is a voice of calm.

            And you might feel like everyone is passing by, while you’re going back and forth, trying your best.

                You and your will barrow. Trying to keep things from combusting.

But then, as you just do what you can.

With what you have.

Little by little.

The mountain is moved.

And you may feel the heat first-hand. And you know how soggy the woodchips are, and you’ve delved into the mold.

And perhaps no one else sees or feels, or knows what you know.

So you just start.

You found the hot soggy woodchips.

So the task is yours to do.

Even if all you have is a wheelbarrow.

And if someone helps you, then you get a gift. And how beautiful is that gift.

And if it’s just you and God.

Then, it’s just you and God, and a wheelbarrow. And that’s enough.

And so, sometimes in life.

You might have four truckloads of woodchips. A mountain, a moldy mountain to move.

And you wonder if you can move it. And you wonder if anybody will help.

But as you start going, you realize, perhaps, this was your mountain to move.

And maybe the whole point was, you just did what you could, with what you had, and when you can’t do anything else, God makes up the difference, and sends rain.