My mood this morning was as gray and foggy as the mist laying along the lower branches of the trees. I recognized the feeling as isolation; the sense that the vibrancy of my interpersonal connections was static. This happens from time to time, usually when I remember the lively exchange of energies that swirled through my daily commute and work life. In retirement, I've learned to recognize this sensation without critiquing it. (The voice in my head could repeatedly exhort me to quit feeling sorry for myself and get over it.) Usually, I only need to "hear" it whisper once to silence it. I "feel the feeling without fondling it," as my friend Jack would say.
I'd promised myself last night that I'd visit the local community center today and check out the selection of plants being sold for charity. I hoped to find some herbs to replace a few that didn't survive the blizzard in January. When I entered the site, two women who sat near me when I attended a musical presentation last week greeted me. As I moved to the selection of herbs, I was surprised to see a woman I'd met last Thursday (when another friend invited me to a "craft and chat" group). She smiled and reminded her spouse where we'd met. I stopped to talk with someone I didn't know about the coneflower she was considering, assuring her that they re-seed, and reminding her that it's the plant sold in health food stores as echinacea. "I take that supplement!" she said, surprised. Someone I met two weeks ago (when I tried a tap dance class) remembered me as "Spaghetti" because I use it as a mnemonic on how to pronounce my name. She was embarrassed; she wanted to ask me for my contact information, to keep me informed about when the class returns in September.
When I stepped into my fog this morning, I felt like a fish struggling in a muddy pool. With a few sweet drops of encounter brightening my awareness, I slipped back into the shining stream of life-affirming presence.
Sometimes foggy, murky feelings dull my
sense of how souls shimmer. Each of
us is called to grow: to flow, if not
always visible and splashing. All of us
swimming through a sea of Being are seen~
lit from a source we may not sense.
Struggling, I may find myself beached in a
muddy pool, anxious for the stream
I left through doubt of my well being.
When I rest, I become aware of rivulets
opening, silently guiding me back to
the sweetness of the stream, where
peace affirms Presence
through my life.
DonnaMarie Fekete, 2 May, 2016
I'd promised myself last night that I'd visit the local community center today and check out the selection of plants being sold for charity. I hoped to find some herbs to replace a few that didn't survive the blizzard in January. When I entered the site, two women who sat near me when I attended a musical presentation last week greeted me. As I moved to the selection of herbs, I was surprised to see a woman I'd met last Thursday (when another friend invited me to a "craft and chat" group). She smiled and reminded her spouse where we'd met. I stopped to talk with someone I didn't know about the coneflower she was considering, assuring her that they re-seed, and reminding her that it's the plant sold in health food stores as echinacea. "I take that supplement!" she said, surprised. Someone I met two weeks ago (when I tried a tap dance class) remembered me as "Spaghetti" because I use it as a mnemonic on how to pronounce my name. She was embarrassed; she wanted to ask me for my contact information, to keep me informed about when the class returns in September.
When I stepped into my fog this morning, I felt like a fish struggling in a muddy pool. With a few sweet drops of encounter brightening my awareness, I slipped back into the shining stream of life-affirming presence.
Sometimes foggy, murky feelings dull my
sense of how souls shimmer. Each of
us is called to grow: to flow, if not
always visible and splashing. All of us
swimming through a sea of Being are seen~
lit from a source we may not sense.
Struggling, I may find myself beached in a
muddy pool, anxious for the stream
I left through doubt of my well being.
When I rest, I become aware of rivulets
opening, silently guiding me back to
the sweetness of the stream, where
peace affirms Presence
through my life.
DonnaMarie Fekete, 2 May, 2016