Thursday, July 29

Tag: wisdom

Gratitude for an MRI Epiphany

Gratitude for an MRI Epiphany

Gratitude, Spirituality, Theology
An MRI machine is surprisingly well suited for epiphanies. After all, you are required to be completely and utterly still, the machine is so loud that nothing can penetrate that noise, and for those 45 minutes you are not responsible for anything else. I discovered this last Monday at 6:45 am. Laying there staring at the alien head sticker placed above my eyes, I suddenly saw the past year and a half laid out before me as if to say, "Look at what you have done and who you are! Don't you see the connections?" It was a moment of sheer connection with the Ground of Being within myself. My God and I in communion. I am so incredibly grateful! You see I have felt scattered and a bit lost since I graduated from Seattle University. Or at least that is what I thought was happening. I also los...
Mindful Monday: A thousand eyes of wisdom

Mindful Monday: A thousand eyes of wisdom

awareness, Buddhism, mindfulness
"... I wrote about the suffering of my own childhood and my years of feeling isolated and unhappy. When he read it, my friend Bob Thurman said, 'You should never be ashamed of the suffering you've been through.' His comment really surprised me. In that moment, I realized how much subtle shame I had been carrying without realizing it. "Bob was passing along a message he'd received years earlier, after he'd lost his left eye in an accident.  His teacher at the time, a Mongolian monk named Geshe Wangyal, had told him, 'Never be ashamed of what happened to you. You have lost one eye but gained a thousand eyes of wisdom.' "I do think it's too simplistic to say that such awful experiences should be considered gifts. But acknowledging that a gift can emerge from pain does not mock the pain ...

to know well the moments, but nothing of time

poem, poems, Poetry
the mindful peace of the cypress beckons, she bows in the wind but doesn't fracture, she knows well the moments, but nothing of time her poetry is written in presence, not words in this business of life, of death and of poetry yesterday is, i think, best forgotten ~ just a figment, after all, an old locked-room mystery, stored among a million neurons, a trillion connections, sound proof, but for the occasional cerebral accident with its quick crack of a gunshot fading into a yellow eye, evaluating with a understandable skepticism life, as it turns out, is a matter of imagination, or folly, nurturing the seesaw of grief and joy, the contrapuntal pulls of yin and yang we can reframe, but we can’t rewrite there are no encores this business of life, of death and of poe...