Bits of wisdom furrowed deeper into the psyche during my absence from exploring the mystery:
I know more solidly that a well-lived life includes family and friends. Scanning my old calendar, then my new calendar (always an awkward transition for me) I noted that when an entry recorded a connection with family members - either in person or on the phone, either my husband's family or mine, new friends or long-term friends, I felt genuine feelings of satisfaction. Losing friends and family makes tending the roots of relationship feel more essential.
Being less judgmental of others and myself has been an intention for several years. Accepting everyone became more effortless this year when I remembered differences make life interesting.
Why is it that a quirky character in a movie, in a television show, or in a good novel is easier to love than a live person across the table?
Not certain why it took me so long to accept that a life well-lived will necessarily contain the disappointing moments as well as the joyful ones. This is how life is. No matter how good I am (or how advanced psychologically), I can't make everything perfect.
Tooth # 30 (right side molar) gave me practice handling pain and suffering without creating a disaster that could ruin the holidays for me and others around me. Oral surgeons are to be avoided, especially in December, but invited into intimacy as needed. The picture above resembles the extraction from my lower jaw.
A new root I want to nurture and develop in 2015: Poetry.
Enrolling in a Spirituality and Practice month-long online poetry class with Roger Housden was a way to honor my intention to continue to make a place for poetry in my life. Studying a poem a day, with help from Roger and the other participants, allows me to find a deeper level of life.
I want to share with you a few lines from Mary Oliver's poem, "Mindful" that have burrowed their way into my mind:
Every day
I see or hear
Something
that more or less
kills me
with delight.
I am delighted that we can continue exploring the mystery together.
Do you have a sense of your roots? What kills you with delight? Please email me or go to the blog comment section.
Thanks for exploring the mystery - Nicky Mendenhall
Being outside in Des Moines kills me with delight. Hardly a day goes by without my mind yelling at me "it's so BEAUTIFUL here!". I am gobsmacked by nature.
ReplyDeleteI'm about to go out and will keep in mind your delight which will add to mine. Thanks for the message - much appreciated.
Deletelovely connections there, Nicky!
ReplyDeleteThank you Ruth!
DeleteLoved the poem. Mary Oliver is a big Circle favorite. I thought you might enjoy Billy Collins' Introduction to Poetry 101
ReplyDeleteI ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide
or press an ear against its hive
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,
or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch
I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
Thanks Karen - I love Billy's poem. He is a great poet. Did you see him when he was in Des Moines? I wasn't able to and mourned the loss.
DeleteAppreciate your response a great deal!
Here's the last two lines of Billy's Poem:
DeleteThey begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
Nice to see your blog again, speaking of roots, Nan emailed me yesterday about Dad's old seabag. It's odd that we had just talked about it the day before. I used it as my laundry bag at Morningside and had it for years before Dad mentioning that he would like to have it back. I don't remember when I sent it back to him, but when Nan asked if I would like to have it, I discovered that I really did. Don't know what I will do with it, but.....
ReplyDeleteOh Nolan - thanks for letting me know you were glad to see blog again. Made me feel all warm and nice inside just like I felt when you wrote about wanting Dad's old seabag back. That's a roots story dear to my hear.
Delete