Morning Meditation - Keep Dancing

 Morning meditation™️. Keep dancing, keep engaging, keep etching the harmonies. 🎶 ✨

#HealingMorning™️  #MorningMeditationArchives™️  #Harmonies  #LifeDance  #Connections

Life Petals

Not long ago I was reading one of the installments of a blog of a dear friend of mine.  Her name is Lisa Brandel and her blog is titled The Widow Lady, in which she chronicles the story of a loved one battling and ultimately dying of a grim disease.  Although sad, her story is also gripping, realistic, honest, at times funny, bittersweet and always profound.

Lisa's blog has often prompted memories of my own of family members who have fought long, debilitating illnesses with dignity and inner strength. I was writing a comment on one of her posts and said something along the lines of,

"This has always made me think of watching petals slowly falling from a flower."

That phrase stuck in my mind and kept surfacing in different ways, to the point that I knew eventually I would write more fully about this concept.


Those of us who are romantic, or have children, are familiar with the story of "Beauty and the Beast".  Depending on which version of the story you have read or viewed in movie format, the Soul of the Beast is represented by a flower, or a blooming bush, or blooming tree.  As Beauty fails to see past the outer visage of the Beast, with each disappointment sustained, another petal from the flower falls.

The more I turned these seemingly unrelated points over and over in my mind, the more interconnecting points began to fall into place.  Who among us, in the first flush of love, or secure in a lasting relationship hasn't felt replenished, our spirits renewed and uplifted by the attention of that other person?  I have always held a mental image that relationships are exactly like that Magical Flower, but my image is one of the flower constantly being renewed.  Certainly, disappointments, illnesses, arguments and other difficult experiences strip the petals away or crush the delicate surfaces, leaving unsightly bruising.  Yet, with time, patience, understanding and love, the fallen petals are replaced, the bruised petals are healed and the flower stands proudly, lush and vital.

Could it be that we each have different flowers for each relationship, different flowers for various levels of physical health? One specific type of flower for friendships, another for family, yet another for work relationships, still more flowers that reflect our state of bodily health, and finally, that one special flower for the most deeply personal connection with that loved one. There is certainly a Language of Flowers that has existed for almost 200 years, giving each flower a specific message, sometimes going to exquisitely minute detail with one flower having different meaning read by the color of the petals.  An example would be a yellow rose meaning friendship, while we all recognize the red rose denotes love. 

In my mind's eye, all of the flowers in our personal garden form a central path.  This central path leads to a unique flower that is unlike any other in existence, and would never be found here on Earth.  This flower would represent us.  No one else, just us.  All the other flowers in our personal garden channel energy into our personal Life Flower, keeping it healthy. 

With age, it is inevitable that people come and go.  Some leave this earthly plane early, at least to our human minds.  Our personal gardens are as those in nature - in a constant state of flux, with changes and shifts, birth, growth and death occurring.  The march of time causes our personal Life Flower to slowly...oh, so slowly, shed petals.  Sometimes those petals renew, and the Life Flower continues to flourish.

In the instances of terminal illness, I imagine that individual's personal garden experiences quite dramatic change.  I also can vividly picture their personal Life Flower becoming an equally profound depiction of their battle against that illness.  I would think the Life Flower would reflect all the physical struggles, all the emotions and fears that go unspoken.  Rather than this Life Flower becoming marked, or bruised or scarred, I can only visualize that it becomes more brilliantly beautiful, shining with an otherwordly purity, carrying a similar mien to that of a soldier in the midst of grim battle. 

Eventually, an end must come for all of us.  Our personal Life Flower will shed petals over time, slowly for some of us, abruptly and brutally for others.  In my own personal analogy, I believe that those fallen petals do not perish into proverbial dust.  I envision them drifting on that cosmic wind, guided by Love, to find their way to the Life Flowers of their loved ones.  Isn't that a wonderful thing to imagine?  That, just possibly, those fallen petals seek us out, those of us left to carry on and find a way to go forward alone, they drift until they find us, and they attach to our personal garden. 

This, many might say, is a fairytale of epic proportions.  I have no foundation for this concept other than my own, admittedly, fertile imagination.  The image of that single flower suspended in space, slowly releasing, one by one....Life Petals, is one that has popped into my mind's eye each time I have dealt with lingering, terminal illness.  Whether it makes sense to anyone else matters not to me; what does matter to me is that the thought brings me comfort.  Imagining that some small fragment of the true essence of someone I have loved never really leaves me makes me smile, and gives me a solid sense of inner peace. 

Perhaps one day I shall sit down and write out this different sort of fairytale, for I am curious to learn more of it.  This is one of those facets of being a writer that I cherish, because I am equally curious to learn the end of the story as my readers may be.  Questions certainly remain - where do all the petals shed over a lifetime go?  Do they swirl away on the wind, except for those precious few that seek out those that are left to continue living?  Do they form a carpeted path for us when our time comes, leading us in the right direction to reunite with those who have gone before us?  The story is unfinished at this time. 

I am left with how to close this blog.  It was prompted, in part, by the blog of a dear friend, bringing to the forefront of my mind an image and concept that has been softly chiming in the background, patiently waiting to be given voice.  How will this post be received?  I honestly have no idea, but again, I will choose to be brave, publish it and wait to see what responses come.  In the meantime, I will visit my own personal garden and gaze about me at the blessings, strewn in riotous color, then I shall gaze towards the center of my garden and recognize that my own Life Flower casts a bright glow.  For now, this is a fitting close.

Foundations

We are all a sum of our formative years.  If we're fortunate, we were surrounded by loving parents, grandparents and extended family that weave together a fabric of care, support, encouragement and guidance.  The time of year is spring and my thoughts always turn to home, up on the side of a ridge in East Tennessee.  I am drawn back home to walk the fields and see the flowers blooming, and revisit the places of my childhood.

I speak often about my large, loving family.  We were fortunate to live next door to my maternal Grandparents; in southern terms, just across the field.  Further down the lane was my Great Aunt Carrie's house.  Aunt Carrie and her mother raised flowers to sell downtown on Market Square at the turn of the century...early 1900's.  I have described in past blog articles that during my childhood, the remnants of all of those flower beds still existed all around our combined properties.  I learned all manner of information and details about flowers, gardening and the old ways of tending the land from these relatives.

For me, this was part of the quiet strength of my own foundation.  My Grandfather was a farmer who raised tobacco for a living, among other jobs.  Because he was raised around flowers, he had an appreciation for them that continued throughout his life.  When springtime would approach, he would often take us with him to the Farmer's Co-op to buy seeds for spring planting.  Or, if you happened to be visiting their house on the days in the fall when the seed catalogs came in the mail, you sometimes could sit quietly in his lap and peruse all the colorful pages of flowers and vegetables and 'help' plan for the following season's crops. 

My Grandfather was a hard person, with his own set of struggles and faults, but he was a very good grandparent.  One year when I was still small, we were outside playing and heard Grandpa's tractor start up.  This was the signal to race across the field and investigate what exciting, interesting task was on the day's agenda.  That morning, Grandpa was tilling and seeding the fields between our house and his.  When we approached, asking for the inevitable tractor ride, he obliged, taking each of us up on his lap for a turn around the field.

I can remember that so clearly, to this very day.  Sitting there on his lap, surrounded by his arms, watching his large, work worn hands on the wheel of the tractor.  It is one of the most secure feelings I believe I have ever felt, just being blissfully happy to be with him, experiencing riding on the tractor, chattering away, occasionally making him laugh.  When my turn on the tractor came to an end, he helped me down, then knelt next to me and pulled packets of seeds from the front pocket of his overalls.  The pictures on the seed packets were of daisies, all colors and varieties.  There had to have been a good 100 packets, as the fields were large that he was tending.  Grandpa told me the seeds had been on sale at the Farmer's Co-op and he decided he would buy them for me.  Just me.  It is important to note here that there are 27 grandchildren (my first cousins) in the family, so one child being singled out was not common.  Yet my Grandpa did this with us at various times.  He would take my brother hunting, show my sister how to use woodworking tools and he would share flowers with me and my Mom.

That year, the fields were sewn with a combination of hay and all those thousands of daisy seeds.  It looked like something out of a movie when the flowers bloomed...white ones, pink ones, yellow, pale blue...and a few black-eyed Susans scattered about.  I would come home with arm loads of bouquets daily, there were so many of them blooming. 

Why is this important enough to write a blog article about it?  I could say it is as simple as it being a lovely childhood memory and that would be true. I could leave it there and this would still be an enjoyable post to write and read.  Yet it was more than that.  Growing up in a home with an absent father, my Grandpa became our primary father figure.  In later years this would also grow to encompass all five of my Uncles, but to begin with, my Grandpa was my first male hero. 

That one summer where he did something that he probably didn't spend much time thinking about, was a moment where I was shown that small gestures matter.  It was also a moment where I felt loved in that unique manner that all small children accept as their due.  I was loved, cherished and cared for to the point that this busy, oftentimes gruff and brusque man took time to do something whimsical and thoughtful in a manner he knew would absolutely delight my little girl's heart.

As the years went forward, he would bring flower bulbs to my Mom and I to plant around our property.  Sometimes they were the old fashioned, familiar flowers such as daffodils, muscaris (we called them miniature grape hyacinths), peonies, hydrangeas, and my favorite flower, Lily of the Valley.  Occasionally they would be something that caught his eye because they were unusual.  It was his awkward, silent way of showing us he cared, I think.  Now, as an adult, when springtime approaches the Tennessee Valley and everything blooms fresh and new, I feel a sense of closeness to my roots.  When I see everything greening up and all the flowers blooming, I automatically reconnect with those childhood memories.

Scents and music are the strongest triggers for memories, so it is no small wonder that I am most at home during the spring and summer months.  When life is fast paced and hectic, I think we all revisit those quiet moments in our minds.  Clearly in my mind will always be the bright memory of a little girl standing next to a tall Grandpa with his hands full of flower seed packets, and a sweet moment just for that one little girl.  It reminds me that I am loved unconditionally and that the size of the field where those flowers were sewn that spring, vast and endless to a child's eye, represented a wide open vista.  Even at that young an age, I was aware of underlying messages that God/Universe sends us.  That day, the message was simple.  "You are loved."  And it was spelled out in daisies from the hand of a Grandpa to a Granddaughter. 

As an adult, I have carried that moment with me, deep in my memories and heart.  I have paid the moment forward regularly, paying attention to small things that matter to those around me.  I am a sum of my childhood and my life experiences, and it makes me smile to finish this specific post and realize that once again, the reason so many people comment on my loving nature is because of the solid foundation I was given in childhood.

If you are reading this blog post, take a moment to cast your mind back and find a special memory to focus on where you felt that same warm blanket of love surrounding you.  It may not be from your childhood; indeed, it could be from a week ago, but if you take a moment to concentrate, you will find it.  With enough time and thought, you will find many such moments, for you are equally beautiful and equally deserving of the message, spelled out in daisies or in colorful script, or in nice, simple clean lines...that....You Are Loved.

Touch thought, touch Soul

I've talked about this in various blog posts before - I am not a daily blogger.  I know that many are and find a satisfying sense of order and discipline in the practice of writing daily blog posts.  I am not focusing on which is right or wrong, as I feel it is an individual choice from writer to writer.  My personal choice is to write when I am inspired to do so.  That can mean writing daily, but more often my blog articles are published less frequently than most. 

Because I choose to wait for inspiration to spark my writing, I honestly never know what the next blog article will be.  For me, that's part of the enjoyment of being a writer.  I usually have a variety of topics flitting around the edges of my consciousness, and I wait patiently for them to either sharpen and grab my attention or I continue to let them circulate on the periphery of my mind.

My last blog post, Cosmic Symphony, was my own ruminations on how we connect via social media in a very elemental, curiously intimate manner.  I am pleased to be able to say that that blog article was very well received.  The most recent Comment posted was written by a lovely lady named Judy J., whom I have never met face to face.  I have no idea how she was led to discover Healing Morning blog, but find me she did. 

She has been dealing with quite a challenging set of circumstances in her personal life in a manner that not many of us can imagine.  She is located in California and authors the blog Caregiver to Hubby, describing day to day life as the caretaker to a brain injured family member.  I urge all of you to visit her blog and follow her writing.  I am just now working through her archives and am still learning about her journey.   Somehow, she found my blog and it gave her a moment of peace and solace. 

As a writer, I cannot express how important it is to hear that I have touched another person in this manner with my work.  I have been told that on an in person basis, I exude a calming, peaceful energy.  This is one of the reasons that I chose the name of Healing Morning for my blog.  We each have a specific energy, a writing style and personality that projects itself through our writing.  This is our voice.  When I am writing, I honestly am not focusing on making sure that my voice comes through; I just write.  The only way that I know that I am succeeding in my goal is when people leave comments and their thoughts.  Judy J. gave me such a moment with her words the other day.

It is no secret that creative people harbor some degree of insecurity about their talent.  I am no different in that regard.  Although I am extremely confident in my writing ability and am also very centered in the message and concepts that I work to convey, I will not claim that I am always confident that every reader will completely "get" what I am communicating. 

I learned many years ago that this is actually not an issue to wrestle with.  Writing is the goal, plain and simple.  It matters not that each person reading a given article interprets the overall theme exactly as I mean it to be understood.  Indeed, I recognize that there may be many moments that someone comes away with a completely different, diametrically opposite perception of my words.  For me, what matters more is if they were touched in a positive way.  And apparently I am achieving that singular goal.

I am still growing as a writer and will continue that growth until my last breath.  That is the beauty of life, continually growing, changing, learning.  The moments that cast a blanket of deep satisfaction are those that let us know we've made a difference; that we've touched the very Soul of another person out there who may be struggling.  To me, that is the moment where everything stops, hushed and profoundly, brilliantly resonating...and you are given a mirror of sorts.  A noble nod from God/Universe that yes, you are in Divinely vibrating unity with your purpose. 

It is a curious thing to know that you can and do make a difference with the basic need to express yourself with words on paper or computer screen.  In a spiritual manner, you have touched thought, touched Soul with another.  It is a musical exchange, don't you think?  Harmonies melding as one reads the written thoughts of another and that first one is lifted up, heart gladdened or lightened in some small fashion.

In a world where feeling disenfranchised and isolated is encroaching at an alarming rate, it is no small wonder that we find unexpected consolation and moments of community via the internet.  Judy J. may be surprised to learn that her comment on my Cosmic Symphony blog post lifted me up equally.  We all need that encouragement as we fight the daily fight on this Earth School, navigating our way through the morass of experiences. 

On days where I might hesitate to post an article that I feel pushes boundaries or that might confuse readers as I delve into esoteric or complex concepts, I will remember Judy J's comment and click the Publish Post button with confidence.  No, every post will not be a polarizing moment for every reader.  And no, not everyone will automatically fall in love with my work.  But some people will find me out there in the constantly changing, busy, frenetic world and discover a calm oasis where they find respite.  That is my goal for my writing - to touch, to inspire, to soothe, to challenge to view the world in a different manner....and most certainly, to tease the occasional moment of laughter out of you.  This is, perhaps, Part II of Cosmic Symphony, as it discusses those ethereal, yet indelible threads of energy that weave together when we connect through writing.

I believe that when you read my writing, my thoughts and energy are woven into the words and they leave a permanent mark on your heart.  Whether you embrace my thoughts or reject them out of hand, you will still be changed by reading the words here.  I find that to be such a powerful thought that it is what draws me back, irresistibly, to my virtual pen via the computer keyboard, to tap away and fill the screen with my thoughts.  I bare my very soul in the process and am more vulnerable than many would think as a result. 

When you look into a faceted diamond and it sparkles, that is occurring because light is finding its way into the center of the gemstone and is bouncing around, hitting the facets and refracting brilliant light outward.  That is what makes a diamond beautiful, and it is also what makes each person beautiful.  I am opening my inner self up through the process of writing - opening a virtual doorway for light to pour in.  I believe that my life experiences and emotions are the facets where that light refracts, bounces around and shoots back out into the world in a bright, sometimes chaotic, other times peaceful, calm and sure display.  Judy J.'s eyes just happened to be sharp and clear when she read my blog and she caught that light.  She found logic and order in my words in a manner that spoke to her and gave her pleasure.  My very heart sighs at that thought!

Judy J., thank you for your comment on my blog page.  I hope you read this and know that you, also, make a beautiful mark in the world with your Spirit and your writing.  Well met, my newfound friend, well met!

Connections

I am writing this post at the end of a very long, tiring day that began with a business conference call at 4:50 am.  It seems that I've been running in about 80+ different directions since, and I admit to being pretty much wiped out.  Yet here I sit, at my computer, driven to write a blog post.  Today marks a new, exciting venture between myself and my friend, Marty, as we plunged headlong into creating a Facebook blogging group page.  Let me just say that prior to the two of us embarking upon this somewhat insane project together, I already had a genuine respect and affection for Marty.  Now that we're wading through pools of varying depths and currents with this blogging thing, I am developing new reasons to appreciate the presence of this friendship.  In addition, via this group venture on Facebook, both Marty and I are being blessed with new connections, new friends, new ideas....new all sorts of things.

I've laughed reading so many new blogs, I've cried as well.  I've been inspired by most of them, confused by a few, challenged to broaden my present parameters of belief and overall, enriched by every person with whom I've interacted via Authentic Blogger on FB.  It is an exhilarating experience thus far and I'm quite aware of how I'm being pushed to grow and expand my personal horizons. 

I have had several new followers do what I love the most, and that is, first - truly READ my blog posts.  Second - they've gone the extra step to post comments on those blog posts, giving me valuable feedback on my thoughts and words.  This was one of the biggest reasons for me to partner with Marty to create Authentic Blogger - I really wanted to attract the attention of people who engage in an authentic manner in the blogging world.  It appears that through our combined efforts and positive energy, both Marty and I are reaping blessings and benefits.  I'm truly enjoying this new experience, despite being a bit drained from all the extra focus and energy output.  It will take a while for us to adapt to the extra demands on our time, but I think I can speak for both of us when I say we're enjoying the heck out of the whole process!

So, my title for this blog is Connections.  That's what I accomplished a lot of today...connections with new blogger friends.  A deeper connection with an existing friend which is proving to be one of my strongest blessings this year of my life.  Connecting with myself in a business aspect that is exhilarating with the challenges and sheer fun of conquering a new vista - always one of my favorite things to experience.  Finally, sitting back and recognizing how all of these connections are clearly paving a new path leading to an as yet unknown future.  That's exciting, satisfying and fulfilling.  Circles within circles, entertwining and literally vibrating new energy.  Today has been a truly happy day.