tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40441074427823205742024-02-19T04:36:54.358-06:00Reflections on the Present MomentJenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-28875818932044247022013-10-15T12:36:00.002-05:002016-09-02T18:21:35.919-05:00Gazing into the Unknown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Happiness is not forcing the sun to shine, </i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>but letting go of that which blocks the light."</i></span></div>
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<i>~Stephen and Ondrea Levine</i></div>
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<i><b>Willpower</b> . . . we use so much of it on our quest to obtain what we want that oftentimes willpower is what keeps us from receiving the best outcome for ourselves. If I see a road before me, tunnel vision can help rid me of distractions, but it can also keep me from picking up on the subtleties of data that can enhance my experience of traveling through life. Here's a personal example, where my stubborn focus and awareness of only one thing instead of the whole came to teach me to have </i><i>a </i><br />
<i><b>gaze</b> instead of a <b>stare</b>.</i><br />
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For years I have been typing away at a novel, researching the occupations of the characters and studying cultural differences between America and Italy, weaving in highs and lows into the plot. But, I began the story with the end in mind, which motivated the passions the characters displayed throughout. I clearly saw the conclusion before the first chapter was even written. Now, many times writers can do this fluidly, so this is not necessarily "writers' sabotage." But in my case, the strict focus on the closing scene repeatedly short-circuited me, diffusing the flame that was supposed to guide me like a teacher throughout the story. I found I wasn't allowing the spontaneous elements of the story--such as arguments, additional plot tension, humor, a new character entering and shaking things up--to flow. With so much willpower and determination to get to the fixed end scene, I had actually burned a hole in the proverbial pages with my harsh stare instead of creating a warm glow with my gaze at the big picture.<br />
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So, in order to get my heels out of the dirt and let my characters' destinies be open to a myriad of possibilities, I "put away" my closing scene. Maybe I'll come back to it. Maybe, like things in life, I'll be pleasantly surprised that what I thought I wanted wasn't the right fit, and my willingness to release my willpower and open myself toward the unknown, unplanned future is really the serving the highest good for my characters . . . and, speaking personally, for myself.</div>
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Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-15647580838553330382013-02-12T23:51:00.000-06:002013-02-13T09:47:47.010-06:00Fleeting Frost Weed<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: large;"><i>"Trash bags in the woods!"</i> I thought to myself. I saw about a dozen similar images like the one above scattered on the trail one cold, wintry morning. It looked like someone had just let loose of plastic bags and let the wind carry them away to eventually settle on the forest floor, wedged between shrubs and sticks and whatever green ground cover survives the winter months here in the South. I stopped, surprised at the volume of supposed trash. I mean, one bag would be "tolerable," but a dozen or more? Nope! Not good for mankind. I don't actually pick up trash when I'm running; I just get annoyed by it. And that's not good either. I realized I should probably act on this one, let my conscience kick in and not just my criticism and annoyance at other people's poor decisions, as the trash just seemed so irreverent out in the stillness of the early morning in the woods.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">I walked closer to one of the white "bags," and when I reached to pick it up, it melted in my hands! It was nothing more than delicate, icy ribbons of layered patterns and folds! These were not trash bags strewn in the woods at all. These "now picturesque," white, ghostlike sculptures were the beautiful phenomena called frost weed, a perennial herb that grows in wooded areas and has a thick stem that holds a plethora of water. When the first freeze comes, that water bursts out of the stem and produces white, ribbonlike, one-of-a-kind designs that . . . well, can resemble plastic bags. Frost weed only remains in its icy state for a few hours, then the morning sun or rising temperatures melt away the frosty designs, and all traces of ice ribbons disappear. I know this because I came back later with my "good" camera and all the frost weed had melted within two hours of seeing it that morning.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Just like the frost weed, sometimes I have felt misjudged and misrepresented. I have felt that I put out my best efforts of love and beauty to others in my actions and intentions, but the reaction was not what I had hoped for. Ever felt that way? We all hold true value. But people disappoint us. Our gifts to this world are so unique, just like each spiral and fold of the ice patterns that burst forth from the stem of the frost weed plant when it can't hold its contents in any longer. When we have a vision or idea or a new version of ourselves to offer the world, we rarely get the accolades we are anticipating. Rather, it's more like an accusing stare that implies, </span><i style="color: #6aa84f;">"How can you be so . . . ?" </i><span style="color: #6aa84f;">But if we are in tune with our life's mission, and God's guiding force in our life, then we know to </span><b>"Stay in this place, until the current of the story is strong enough to pull you out,"</b><span style="color: #6aa84f;"> as the poet David Whyte says in his poem "Coleman's Bed." We remain as steady as we can on our divine course until people around us recognize the beauty and gifts we are offering and take a closer look. Suddenly we are not misunderstood. Suddenly we are not mistaken for the plastic bag littering the woods and are valued as a unique but fleeting moment of impact and beauty when taken a closer look at. And sometimes we don't wait on others to validate ourselves; we get to the point where it's enough to feel it and live it from the inside out. To positively identify with our own uniqueness. We believe in ourselves again, free from outside approval.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">"Stay in this place, until the current of the story is strong enough to pull you out." Powerful words. We often have to sit in our aloneness until our outer story catches up with the inner life that is rich with uprising force and momentum. The other "players" in our life story (parents, children, spouses, lovers, bosses, friends, and even different parts of our own self) keep the "current" of our life stories moving, but at the pace that is governed ultimately by God's unique design. We cannot control the timing of the current or the lens with which others choose to see us. They are on their own journey as well, learning their own lessons just the same.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><br /></span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Now I anticipate frost weed every winter and am often not up and out in the woods early enough to catch sight of it. Therefore I only see it here and there. But I get a rush of pleasure when I do come upon it because not everyone sees this plant in action: forced by the cold temperatures to "create" beauty when it would be so much easier to stay warm and "in tact." Neat and tidy. Boring . . . but safe. I'm willing to let go and risk the cold forces of winter moving me (moving the current of my story) into a unique beauty instead of the warm lull of safety that an unchallenging life offers.</span></span><br />
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Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-12991319978747389072012-11-06T23:11:00.000-06:002013-02-13T00:07:13.108-06:00In the Dirt I Write . . . <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #4a442a; font-family: 'Felix Titling'; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><strong><span style="color: #e06666;">Surrender tree<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>The Surrender Tree<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>opens me to what I cannot see . .</strong> .<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>As I write in the dirt that<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>supports its roots:</strong></span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>names <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>symbols <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>words<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>I release my logic,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>my will,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>my need to know,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>and trust that my small act <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>of faith,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>of letting go,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>will create beauty and life<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>more wild than my imagination can dream.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>Looking around,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>I see that I am alone.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>My ritual is guaranteed.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>Today is another day<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>to speak my surrender<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>into the air, <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>while the tree bears silent witness<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>and keeps my secrets<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>to itself.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>Walking away,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>I look back at the tree, <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>then the ground.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>I envision the words, like offerings,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>stirring in the dirt,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>under the small stones and branches <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>I’ve laid upon them,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>actively in dialogue with<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>Source <o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>for me.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>I cannot communicate the depth<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>of what my surrender means,<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>because even I do not understand it.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>But the words I’ve spoken out loud<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>and set into the dirt<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>by the base of the tree<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>make me<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4a442a; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 64;"><o:p><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>FREE. </strong></span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: x-small; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><strong>© 2011 by Jenna Love</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">This poem came from a ritual I created at a time in my life where nothing I could "do" was changing anything in the physical world around me. My deep need to make things and situations turn the way I wanted, in the time I wanted, only left me frustrated, disappointed, and even a bit faithless in my spiritual journey. I'm naturally drawn to trees because to me they represent groundedness. Their root systems are complicated, entwined, far-reaching, and adaptable. The trunk and branches grow toward the light and seek higher awareness.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">Notice in the picture how this beech tree's bark has been carved into by people who have left an initial or a word, a marker of an emotion, a record in history. Well, I wanted my history to be more private, subtle, just between me and God. I wanted to place my words and symbols in the ground right at the base of the tree, as if they would somehow penetrate the soil and become buried, go underground and emerge again in a new, enlightened form. I was seeking for my grief and frustration and hopes to die and be transformed. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">Many times a week I performed this ritual. I also placed special rocks I collected, favosite coral fossils to be exact, on the dirt. I wanted to take the fossils home because the coral had become crystalized and they were really beautiful and rare. But leaving them at the tree was like another offering, to go along with my words and symbols in the dirt, to give away the things I needed to surrender: thought patterns, expectations, desires, fears.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">One day, though, I brought a stone with me to the tree, which I had recently bought, called chiastolite. It is a stone noted for its distinctive cross-shaped, black graphite inclusions against a brownish background. Symbolically, I connect with the cross symbol for Christian representations, and carrying it with me was a positive reminder of discovering my life mission, realizing that the path to fulfilling it would not be easy. It would require a sacrifice. But in the sacrifice there is the promise of a kind of death that only leads to transformation and the promise of something better. To me, Jesus and the cross is relevant to me on more than just the level of how He suffered for us. It is also a prophetic announcement to all of mankind that our life is a journey that will require a time of coming to terms with our mission, a wrestling with God and ourself (and even bargaining) to possibly have some other option than what we know is our path. Then there's a coming to terms with whatever lies ahead, not knowing for sure where the journey will lead but having a surrendered faith that gets you on your knees and in the dirt of your life for a while, wondering if you heard the calling correctly because it sure doesn't feel comfortable. Next comes some real pain. The death of the old self, the old thought patterns and expectations and beliefs of how you thought your life would be. All gone. Done. In the dirt ready for transformation. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">Then some time has to pass. That time is different for everyone. For me, usually things do not transform overnight, but require months and years to bring certain situations full-circle. God is really not concerned with how long we spend in a death/transformation cycle; He's concerned with the outcome, the change it produces on the other side. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">When transformation and restoration occur, there is a great respect for the process that was required to enter this new territory of change and rebirth. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">But back to the chiastolite stone I carried with me one day to the tree . . . I really didn't want to leave it there, buried in the dirt, but knew symbolically I needed to. I scooted some dirt around and then suddenly it fell deep into a hole an animal had dug, so deep that I panicked that it was out of my reach. I tried to retrieve it, but it was long gone. Just like everything in my head (my worries, my fears, my longings and expectations) that needed to slip away, the rock with the cross on it went first; it led the way for my personal surrender.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">I felt a little shocked that the chiastolite was gone so suddenly and was so out of sight and reach. But it confirmed my need to stop obsessing about what I need to leave behind, to just do it once and carry on. Trust that doing it once with certain faith is better than doing it daily with no faith. So, I let go.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">About two months later I was at the tree, snuffeling about the dirt, and as I moved some leaves I saw the chiastolite right there on the surface of the dirt. Just right there in plain sight! Not underground in the pit of darkness. Simply there for me to pick up without having to search for it. It was odd, really, to have so much time and weathering occur over the two months---and the area is on an incline. I never expected to see that rock again. I felt it had been given back to me. It was okay to take it home. Because I didn't look for it and dig it up and chase after it, it rose to the surface in its own time. Right then, I realized the clarity I sought in my life would probably follow this same pattern.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">For the first time in a long while, I felt that my acts of surrender at that tree were heard all along. That not one grief cry, faithless moment, plead, petition, or longing had gone out to oblivion. Though nothing had, in fact, turned a corner in my life or had really changed or come full-circle yet, I knew that I was heard and that I was told to keep enduring. The chiastolite cross stone was given back to me as bread for the journey, you could say. An offering to ME this time. A reminder that endurance builds the soul's stamina for the next stage of the journey.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">Endurance is a teacher. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Patience and higher understanding </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">are its gifts.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">As long as we resist the path we do not want to traverse,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">we cannot embrace endurance</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">as it is meant to </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">work in us </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">and change us.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">May you speak your surrender like a mantra today, then let it go.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">May you write words and symbols in the dirt as Jesus did, then let them go.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">May you believe in the grace of endurance and the grace of restoration.</span></span></div>
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Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-17872595802729337712012-11-02T23:11:00.000-05:002013-02-12T23:51:57.218-06:00The Courage to Choose<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw8yTma4sigrTz8Qa1hq5sCzS7YZf2Kf3C5lSB23N3zWrXBHmy46_5970ffKQGXnZ6yvk9kpp-KiQ5PXa3GKNxtaQdoMeX5ir2XG0p8GfCUs-_NR2qeqeb4x6Keo58WPJSrP9MYxMiJBSR/s1600/DSC08604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" qea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw8yTma4sigrTz8Qa1hq5sCzS7YZf2Kf3C5lSB23N3zWrXBHmy46_5970ffKQGXnZ6yvk9kpp-KiQ5PXa3GKNxtaQdoMeX5ir2XG0p8GfCUs-_NR2qeqeb4x6Keo58WPJSrP9MYxMiJBSR/s400/DSC08604.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: x-large;"><strong>"To have courage for whatever comes in life</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: x-large;"><strong>---everything lies in that."</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;"><strong>St. Teresa of Avila</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: large;"><strong>I was at Fort Pickens Gulf Islands National Seashore this summer and was amazed at the contradictory sight of present-day, undisturbed beach and an old U.S. military fort built in the early 1830s. It was originally built to defend Pensacola Bay and its navy yard, and is one of four forts built in the South that was never occupied by Confederate forces during the Civil War (1861-65). I did wonder who was held captive there, though, and discovered that Geronimo, a leader of the Bedonkohe Apache tribe (Native American group from the Southwest), was held at Fort Pickens as a prisoner of war in October of 1886 for seven months while his family was held in another location (Fort Marion, now renamed Castillo de San Marcos in St. Augustine, FL). The doors in the picture above are at Fort Pickens, and it is likely Geronimo was inside one of these, paying his price for the freedoms he sought, which took the form of fighting against Mexico and the U.S., who wanted to expand into Apache tribal lands. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: large;"><strong>I look at these doors and they seem so thick, heavy, impenatrable, and if I was inside by force, as a prisoner, I just might have the will to fight, the will to live, knocked right out of me. But when there is a greater force driving someone, such as Geronimo's fierce loyalty to his tribal culture, often a courageous and daring spirit emerges that is willing to go the distance, no matter the end result. It is noted in history that Geronimo did come to embrace Christianity in his later years while still honoring the spirituality of his culture. Somehow, through his struggles, honor code, pain, and fighting, he still was open to the Spirit speaking to him and not shutting off his divine connection just because life got challenging.</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>These doors of uncertainty loudly echo the words of St. Teresa of Avila to me,</strong></span> <span style="color: #cccccc;"><strong>"To have courage for whatever comes in life---everything lies in that."</strong></span> <span style="color: #93c47d;"><strong>So many times I am faced with either</strong></span> <strong><span style="color: #f1c232;"><em>looking</em> <em>at</em> doors</span><span style="color: #93c47d;">, which represent choices not yet made, or I am</span></strong> <strong><span style="color: #f1c232;"><em>stuck inside</em> doors</span><span style="color: #93c47d;">, which represent the choices I have made and wish to improve upon or even change entirely. It takes courage to find where the keys are within myself to</span></strong> <span style="color: #cccccc;"><strong>unlock and enter</strong></span> <strong><span style="color: #93c47d;">or </span><span style="color: #cccccc;">unlock and be free</span><span style="color: #93c47d;">. Where does one get this guidance that can make or break one's life course, or relationships, or careers? </span></strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d; font-size: large;"><strong>Below is a poem I wrote to help me through this process of tapping into inner knowing. I hope this blesses you in a way that leads you to trust when you receive guidance.</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: x-large;"><strong>The Understanding</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">the truth of my soul,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">the voice of my ever-patient angel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I understood.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">But I was faithless.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">The signposts pointed to a direction<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I did not want to go.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I felt the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tap</i>,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">then the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pull</i>,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">then the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">push</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was faithless in the free-fall.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was rebellious in the resistance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I pretended to prefer soul dissonance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">But all along I understood.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">The new direction before me glowed and pulsed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">It held both the flame of destruction<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">and the warmth of the womb, ready for rebirth. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">This paradox made me <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: large;">untrusting</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">fearful</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">so I chose the familiar icy path instead.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I remained <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">frozen <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">still <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; font-size: large;">unmoving</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">for a long time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">But I knew I could not hang on to life<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">untouched<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">unchanged<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">uncolored<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #f1c232; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">unmoved</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I understood.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">But I was faithless.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">Life repeated itself in weary patterns.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">Reminders that I was still <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">frozen<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">fearful<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">feigning fulfillment</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';">.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">My God, my angel,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">how patiently they persisted:<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">opening doors of hope,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">whispering words in my heart,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">speaking through ancient earth formations,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">guiding me through dream scenarios,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">and connecting me with like-minded soul friends.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I understood<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">what was taking place<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">all along.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally, I got too tired <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">to resist.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;">My free-fall became a welcome letting go.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">And in the silence of the wind that cradled me <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">as I went down, <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I began to loosen the tight grip on<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">my expectations<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">my desires<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">my fears.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I descended I became lighter,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">which surprised my faithless heart. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">Feeling lighter,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">faith then filled me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">Its weightless energy drew me up,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">overpowering the force of my free choice,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">which had allowed me to go down,<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">down <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">into the moment of my greatest<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">struggle<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">with myself <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">to let go<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">of it all.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I knew I was safe.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I felt my angel near.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I surrendered to the moment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I surrendered the rest of what I held on to <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">that weighed me down.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">And I understood.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="nospacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #000066; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif';"><span style="color: #f1c232;"><span style="font-size: large;">I always had.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style','serif'; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><strong>© 2011 by Jenna Love<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
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Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-72047073986119758682012-10-31T22:58:00.002-05:002013-02-12T23:52:15.828-06:00St. Anthony <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<em><strong><span style="color: #93c47d;">This picture was taken 400 feet underground in a Tennessee cave. Amidst the dark depths, a wishing well was started some years back as visitors were drawn to the small, constant pool of water. When we see water, often we are reminded of movement, fluidity, life, and healing. These coins are like offerings, signs of hope from those who travelled far beneath to move upward toward something better and more life-giving. This wishing well was a spectacular, glittering presence in a dark underground world. When I came upon it I was reminded of a poem I wrote about soul retrieval, and how St. Anthony is associated with helping us retrieve that which was lost, stolen, or misplaced. I believe our souls can't ever really be lost, but we can feel so disconnected from ourselves that we need intervention from a higher Source to reconnect and reunite and "find" ourselves again. This poem is a representation of the metaphorical "retreival" of my soul when I finally wasn't afraid to make the journey down in order to come up again. Note the word "retrieve" means "to get back again", "rescue", or "recover". </span></strong></em></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">St. Anthony</span></h2>
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<strong><span style="color: orange;">BREATHING, STILL BREATHING,</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">so I must be alive.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">But my shallow breaths</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">match the shallow depths</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">where my soul could not survive.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: orange;">LOST, EVER LOST,</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">yet I search for my soul.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">But where does one look?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">There is no instruction book.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">And my life feels out of control.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">St. Anthony, hear my plea.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">My soul I need to retrieve.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">St. Anthony, illuminate the way.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">And may the angels around me stay.</span></em></div>
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<br /></div>
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<strong><span style="color: orange;">STRENGTH. I'M GAINING STRENGTH</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">My hope is not in vain.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">I breathe deep and slow,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">intuiting the way to go,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">knowing I must cross harsh terrain.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
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<strong><span style="color: orange;">TRUSTING, FAITHFULLY TRUSTING</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">though nothing is yet found.</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">My soul floats on the air,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">waiting . . . somewhere.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">And I seek it like a bloodhound.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">St. Anthony, hear my plea.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">My soul I need to retrieve.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">St. Anthony, illuminate the way.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">And may the angels around me stay.</span></em></div>
<br />
<strong><span style="color: orange;">DARK, SO DARK</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">is the place I must go.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Seeking the eternal ember of light,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">hidden deep within the night,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">I feel the nearness of its glow.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
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<strong><span style="color: orange;">WARMER, FEELING WARMER;</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">the ember’s heat reaches me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">My eyes gaze upon a vision:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">a spiritual collision</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">of who I am and what I can be.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">St. Anthony, hear my plea.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">My soul I need to retrieve.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">St. Anthony, illuminate the way.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cccccc;">And may the angels around me stay.</span></em></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></div>
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<strong><span style="color: orange;">SUDDEN, VERY SUDDEN,</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">a hand extends out toward me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">When it touches my face,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">I feel calmed by its grace,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">and my eyes close in reverie.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"> </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><strong>MOVING, I AM MOVING.</strong> </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">A strong hand now in mine.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">It’s pulling me</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">from the chaotic debris,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">allowing my senses to realign.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: orange;">OPEN, MY EYES ARE OPEN.</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">In front of me he bows.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">Holding a crescent-shaped bowl,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">St. Anthony returns my soul,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">and all I can ask is, “How?”</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: orange;">LISTENING, I AM LISTENING</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">to one much wiser than me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">One who heard my distress,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: orange;">and found me worthy to bless.</span><br />
<strong><span style="color: orange;">NOW MY SOUL IS RETRIEVED.</span></strong></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Copyright © 2012 by Jenna Love</span></div>
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Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-5446128099110578172012-06-07T00:28:00.000-05:002013-02-12T23:52:36.502-06:00To Freeing the Caged Bird Within . . .<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3f2nZNvqCGXTt1OmJmZA643Lt8av6U9GuVOr_NSWP3gAfzW_hT6T92cJ9oF9qHHHINTlE4Ag0Qp6uSfQGMGq9xW5oyJZva-kMId30FZdgiZt8sfjd3aEgJElXO1K7cmGvH816fAtuC3L/s1600/owl+and+key.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fba="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR3f2nZNvqCGXTt1OmJmZA643Lt8av6U9GuVOr_NSWP3gAfzW_hT6T92cJ9oF9qHHHINTlE4Ag0Qp6uSfQGMGq9xW5oyJZva-kMId30FZdgiZt8sfjd3aEgJElXO1K7cmGvH816fAtuC3L/s320/owl+and+key.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<strong><span style="color: black;">This poem is written to all of those who live in self-captivity.</span></strong></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong><span style="color: black;">Remember: You hold the key to releasing yourself from old patterns, beliefs, and the bondage that keeps you from living your authentic life. The key is always within reach, just as in the picture above . . . sometimes we just don't expect the help to come from ourselves . . . we wait on someone to bring us out of our misery. Look around, pay attention, and take control of your path!</span></strong></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;"><strong>red scarf</strong></span></div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Following the trail with obedient feet,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">every day I make the same groove </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">in the dirt</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">while my eyes scan the abundant life around me</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">outside of the manmade path.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Frostweed sprouting on a hillside.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Hollowed-out tree trunks.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">One red leaf swinging on a branch,</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">unique in its ability to hold on, though it is now winter.</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">All of this is just out of my reach . . . </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">The area off the path holds a secret </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">I’ve been too narrowly focused to understand,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">because this path I walk is dull.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">This dirt is dry.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">The tree roots threaten my ankles.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">New life doesn’t emerge here.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">But my eyes see life over there, in the valley.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">And over there, where rock and water meet.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">And over there, where the red leaf still clings, triumphantly.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">But I was told to stay on the path that was created </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">for those who enter the woods.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">It’s safer, I’m told.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">It’s easier to walk on, I’m told.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">It’s respectful to the woods and animals, I’m told.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">And I’m used to being blindly obedient.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">But . . . </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">This path I walk is dull.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">This dirt is dry.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">The tree roots threaten my ankles.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">New life doesn’t emerge here</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">on this worn-out, manmade path.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">My focus is narrow, like the trail.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">I’m daily kicking up dust, creating clouds of confusion. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">This temporary blindness is causing </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">disruption</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">dissatisfaction</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">disappointment</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">disillusionment</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"> yet a determination</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"> for something else</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"> over there.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">As my determination builds,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">I gaze upon a divine omen.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">It is<span style="color: #cc0000;"> <strong><span style="font-size: large;">red</span></strong></span><span style="font-size: large;">.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">It is long and winding through a pile of leaves</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">off the trail.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Its twisting shape beckons me to move toward it</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">and I find myself swaying and moving,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">like I haven’t done in years,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">feeling happy and alive.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">My feet stop at the threads </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">of the bright object</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">rising out of the leaves </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">like an out-of-place red vine</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">I look down.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><strong>It is a red scarf.</strong></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Abandoned.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Yet its abandonment has saved me from my own.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Its hopeful red energy</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">and billowy movement under the leaves<br />fills my mind with future possibilities</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">I had never considered.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">How can this object have such an effect on me? I wonder.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Is it because it escaped its tight hold on the traveler’s neck</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">who fervently kept to the path?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Is it because I admire its fluid escape into</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">the area off the path where life is </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">interactive and wilder,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">holding all the potential I need</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">to have hope in feeling alive again?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">In feeling courageous enough to get off the trail</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">and walk an unpredictable, curvy terrain</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">that restores wholeheartedness and wonderment?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">I look around and I am eight yards away from</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">the dull, dry dirt of the trail.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">I smile and keep moving farther away from it,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">with the scarf loose in my hands,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;">blowing in the wind.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: x-large;">Free</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: large;">Guiding me toward my own freedom.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">© 2011 by Jenna Love</span></div>
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Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-80353879130883552222012-06-06T11:11:00.000-05:002013-02-12T23:52:56.268-06:00The Grace Prayer<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY9CYo3xlUFK5GUL5eBERejpmEBC8P6-YZfZ63Mro2vXP9ptp-RJM4Nt1R7IFKQzN8b9Of3hYP_FZ__68Ygz28cENhia3aVfx1f6ChNU8xg666VjQtlcc2yQ-A2KjmvBR1a1T9mJegc2GJ/s1600/my+tower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY9CYo3xlUFK5GUL5eBERejpmEBC8P6-YZfZ63Mro2vXP9ptp-RJM4Nt1R7IFKQzN8b9Of3hYP_FZ__68Ygz28cENhia3aVfx1f6ChNU8xg666VjQtlcc2yQ-A2KjmvBR1a1T9mJegc2GJ/s1600/my+tower.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyt1YNw5HDQ6cHoc4I-bxFnBMIUTm_S6L7vVgK6SwVcBB-_yS61X8zMRhK9HtSaC9YHN5EsNeO5RRde_70LI1VZpqp_5m2Ut1F07_vyCe5O8r8DcUertaft_p2tpV5FfrQwFII7X48A7XQ/s1600/my+wall+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyt1YNw5HDQ6cHoc4I-bxFnBMIUTm_S6L7vVgK6SwVcBB-_yS61X8zMRhK9HtSaC9YHN5EsNeO5RRde_70LI1VZpqp_5m2Ut1F07_vyCe5O8r8DcUertaft_p2tpV5FfrQwFII7X48A7XQ/s1600/my+wall+2.jpg" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90H-n9w3BSBYRX_5PrDwlDzKBBjkGPIVcnPumiOmtGWYD_h5RyQEf81VRFeTTPd5EOGABEDW1monZYyT0eCdy_mboOBZH9E4qm4lnK2v-28RFOpzfgAoKqeY1IUyERz0S6TyYtjwYWtYA/s1600/2%255B3%255D+%25283%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90H-n9w3BSBYRX_5PrDwlDzKBBjkGPIVcnPumiOmtGWYD_h5RyQEf81VRFeTTPd5EOGABEDW1monZYyT0eCdy_mboOBZH9E4qm4lnK2v-28RFOpzfgAoKqeY1IUyERz0S6TyYtjwYWtYA/s400/2%255B3%255D+%25283%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #b6d7a8; font-size: large;"><em>Grace, to me, is receiving the power and blessing of Spirit as I relinquish control and choose to let a higher power move through me so that I am more receptive to the blessings that will enrich my life, mind, and spirit. <span style="color: #e06666;">The above pictures of the rock towers were taken on the high point of a hiking trail. Many people build a tower in this place, and it always gets knocked down by wind and rain (and possibly rambunctious kids!). The towers are always uneven, wobbly, and not necessarily beautiful, yet the fact that people get inspired to build them, and even add a rock or two to those already built, shows me that humanity as a whole has a desire for upward movement, to get their hands on the ground, pick up a rock, and take that first step to build something that represents effort, hope, and balance. I believe those who build these towers experience a moment of grace that gets them "out of themselves" and connected to something that visually affirms God will help with the structure and building of their life. This grace is available, all the time, even on the day the rock tower falls, because it gives another hiker a chance to be graced with the inspiration to "think big" again.</span></em></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to clearly know what it is you would have me know today.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to see clearly what it is you would have me do in this world today.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to be patient with the uncertainties in my life that cause grief and panic and the illusion of separation and rejection.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to know when to open my life in a new direction and and seize an opportunity you have put before me.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to let go of what I no longer need to cling to.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to embrace the present moment and not wish for the future to arrive before I am ready for it.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to accept what I cannot control, specifically the actions and choices of others.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to love myself and treat myself with the utmost respect.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to believe that I am safe and my life is divinely guided and protected no matter what situations I face.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to know I am worthy of a peaceful and sound mind.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to be comfortable with uncertainty.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to not feel cheated about things that have happened to me.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to not live in regret or bitterness.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to surrender what I hold so tightly to. Let me trust that the act of letting go makes a path for what is mine to come to me.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #f1c232; font-size: large;"><strong>God, give me the grace to keep my spirit in present time.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #6fa8dc; font-size: large;">With Gratitude . . . </span><br />
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Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-13324494628372801712012-05-05T13:11:00.000-05:002013-02-12T23:53:17.828-06:00Love Is Where You Find It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFvHglGe2csDXfBbGQY7-S9HjfKTdez1sGqR_AqVbAisglrqNRp4Do77G7jwxiyLhvO8owSyjQV3tUX5Y8L-uLbVydUcnw0bQvDvCho1stvGmDc2592YPuTIIkH71APJ_IgD5LVyQPQVt/s1600/heart.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFvHglGe2csDXfBbGQY7-S9HjfKTdez1sGqR_AqVbAisglrqNRp4Do77G7jwxiyLhvO8owSyjQV3tUX5Y8L-uLbVydUcnw0bQvDvCho1stvGmDc2592YPuTIIkH71APJ_IgD5LVyQPQVt/s320/heart.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<strong>I have made a hobby of collecting heart-shaped rocks for many years, so I expect to see them. What I've not expected to find was a rock like the one above, with a heart-shaped <em>opening</em>. This has become one of my favorites now because of the "unexpected" uniqueness, yet it still has the common heart-themed thread. </strong><br />
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<strong>In my life I often get sidetracked by how I think things should be. When the expected things in life show up, I cancel out all other things that come my way because I am satisfied. <em>Why</em> <em>bother to look for the ways life could surprise me?</em> I often think. This stale philosophy reminds me of the saying that we were not born to merely survive; we were born to thrive. This "open" rock reminds me to be open to the unique things that show up in the periphery of my life and bring them to the center of my vision for a better observation. Often what I tend to overlook will actually harmonize with my life goals and plans, which ultimately leads me toward a state of thriving. </strong><br />
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<span style="color: #bf9000;"><span style="font-size: large;">"It is not inertia alone that causes the unspeakably monotonous and unrenewed human condition to repeat itself again and again. It is the <em><strong>aversion to anything</strong></em> <em><strong>new</strong></em>, any <em><strong>unpredictable experience</strong></em>, which is believed to be untenable. Only he who can <strong>expect</strong> <em><strong>anything</strong></em>, who does not exclude even the mysterious, will have a relationship to life <em><strong>greater than just being alive</strong></em>."</span> </span> </blockquote>
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<span style="color: lime;">Rainer Maria Rilke in <em>Letters to a Young Poet</em></span></div>
Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-31389678900745394182012-05-03T21:53:00.000-05:002013-02-12T23:53:36.565-06:00A Life of Balance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1kM8l7Tjcs_c-pmRByexl6s21qtWBHpWUPoxjAYYOLc8OrCLEZeIbB2HGyjog-vRQyJZJfxqA9sP-GJEisZR09RtbFlvskENRIXke_ZcolbxW2TYUyalf7HqwdGw1wCLCD-3Hx37Fzew/s1600/DSC06907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1kM8l7Tjcs_c-pmRByexl6s21qtWBHpWUPoxjAYYOLc8OrCLEZeIbB2HGyjog-vRQyJZJfxqA9sP-GJEisZR09RtbFlvskENRIXke_ZcolbxW2TYUyalf7HqwdGw1wCLCD-3Hx37Fzew/s320/DSC06907.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I came upon these large rocks in a dry creek bed very unexpectedly. It was early morning, right as I was beginning my run, and I stopped in a moment of awe and respect for the artist who skillfully created the display of balance. The rocks are large, if the pictures don't give that impression. Strength was needed to position most of them, and a knowledge of engineering, I would imagine. But what was most impressive to me was that as I looked at the various states of balance, I entered into a beautiful silence and state of peace within myself. I began to feel grounded, and the faithless heart that I awoke to that morning believed that maybe the impossible was really possible. Maybe the challanges that lay before me just needed a resting place, a stillpoint. Maybe I needed to stop <em>doing</em> and <em>thinking</em> and <em>worrying </em>and just BE STILL long enough to clear the clutter from my mind and allow God to give me strength and a feeling that everything in life does balance out . . . eventually.</div>
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Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-45708721003186657862011-01-26T19:41:00.008-06:002013-02-12T23:54:23.070-06:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7ciL9kxA0CHnGUHGdHNflCKYUxlyFqlZWywSKow5r6-Y1LpATgGYaPBXKSSJh44klNRs0WcORi42yDGazpjwOTPPlZVZhZtC3QQt3WWBbfcR2eJV5_kTGZULCEgh8xUNEK9zCzHG0cdy/s1600/2%255B2%255D+%25282%2529%255B1%255D.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568868354057278818" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7ciL9kxA0CHnGUHGdHNflCKYUxlyFqlZWywSKow5r6-Y1LpATgGYaPBXKSSJh44klNRs0WcORi42yDGazpjwOTPPlZVZhZtC3QQt3WWBbfcR2eJV5_kTGZULCEgh8xUNEK9zCzHG0cdy/s400/2%255B2%255D+%25282%2529%255B1%255D.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 258px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 258px;" /></a> <img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566675011782042322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GrPxHsebMLm23y9ZuMiUw9ibV20ehQgSQEOE3buy3_yXGTZ0jO5Ih1JjbLSfGIEBFbIynYqr5Pykah57TJ6wofR53Mk4Yr0CidjxuB-Bg8g0xxFE0rXGwmRsLViKZvHCbVcFItnDk3Zp/s400/2%255B1%255D.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 284px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 250px;" /><span style="color: #f4cccc; font-size: x-large;">"Every bridge connects. Every path welcomes the traveler's footsteps. Every person has the power to decide when to cross the bridge and when to take the first step." <span style="color: #9fc5e8; font-size: small;">~Jenna Love</span></span>Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-55348053335767643282010-04-24T16:40:00.032-05:002010-04-26T20:44:26.698-05:00Blueberry Bliss<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-VlfvQkTc7SIhQXNhv-qWgbkakuE3tGGU6yGdx7eNtPZg-nOJGswHadSZfG4Zi67YH4gF5mOL-12DNrwd3Uc9g817bbeAgCGPOSooo5U5gIotPfYxyfXCGAM6B174a4tZz_wHrvU9aeZ/s1600/blueberries+033.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 388px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463855069095699106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw-VlfvQkTc7SIhQXNhv-qWgbkakuE3tGGU6yGdx7eNtPZg-nOJGswHadSZfG4Zi67YH4gF5mOL-12DNrwd3Uc9g817bbeAgCGPOSooo5U5gIotPfYxyfXCGAM6B174a4tZz_wHrvU9aeZ/s400/blueberries+033.JPG" /></a>My children and I went blueberry picking at a church in Franklin, Tennessee, last summer, and I found an unexpected surprise in the midst of a chaotic, messy out-building (in which fruit pickers leave money in a bucket to donate to the church in trade for the berries) that had a place of respite and meditation for anyone who wandered in . . . if they looked past the clutter and trash (yes, trash), and stacks of boxes. The area consisted simply of a shelf, the Apostle's Creed printed out on a piece of paper, a candle, matches, and prayers typed out to offer up to God, with a few pictures of Jesus hanging in small frames behind the shelf to offer focus to anyone who needed to have a visual of hope and promise. I, particularly, don't like looking at portrayals of Jesus, as I know they are all incorrect, so I rely on a bodily presence without features and an overall spiritual essence of who He is. Anyway, I wondered if I should use this meditation station, because I felt really drawn to it, and my kids were outside, happy just to stay and roam around the many-acred, blueberry-filled property. And let's face it, who in their right mind would want to leave the rolling acres of woods, sanctuary of the church property, and freedom to roam, even after we had picked more berries than we could ever hope to eat. <div><br /><div>As I pondered if I should have a moment at the meditation station, I wondered if I was actually allowed to. Isn't that silly? But when a place of safety and rest is provided to us, at no cost and with no strings attached, we often feel undeserving at first, like we should hurry through the process and take "just a little", because it "really wasn't meant for us in the first place". I could have reasoned that the meditation corner was really for church members, and that I had come into a sacred place, unofficially, and uninvited . . . my only reason for being there was to pay for the berries and then exit the building. Or another way to put it would be that I had to earn or pay the price for even being allowed in the building. But I chose to allow myself the opportunity to have the experience I felt I needed. I lit the candle and became internally quiet. Then, staring at the candle, prayers flowed through my thoughts and the Apostle's Creed was quietly spoken. I felt that I was where I rightfully needed to be. Every once in a while I couldn't help but look around the large room, which encompassed a living area and kitchen, and was a little put off by the untidiness. I thought that if the church is going to offer a place of respite, then couldn't they at least work on the whole surroundings to enhance the beauty of the meditative/prayerful experience? But then I reminded myself that there is always beauty and calm to be found in the midst of chaos; there is always a place of safety in the disordered, messy, and untidy path we walk. Not sure that was the church's intention to show people, but it was what I needed to hear that afternoon nonetheless. Finally (and reluctantly, because I didn't want to leave), I blew out the candle, stacked the papers containing the Apostle's Creed and prayers, and threw away my match in the trash can to my left . . . only to see about ten or so burned out matches lying in the bottom of the trash from others before me who had come in to have their own experience of prayer and meditation. I smiled, because I had actually felt kinda alone and isolated during my experience, caught up in my thoughts and worries, and then I realized that we are all doing the same thing--bringing our attention to God, calming our souls through the words we offer Him, and finally, surrendering our chaos to Him as we end our meditative "moment" and carry on with our day. I ended up feeling not only united to God at that moment, but united to people in general--the people who seek Him--and especially those ten people who came before me with their prayers and left their burned-out match as reminder that I am not alone in my journey. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuI6-_M8r-9WUugljDTLqx0QLIovSdaWTWMN7jR2Ol7O4eLrtSeb8cmRYGTAd-ncejHZ9m5eCwx03QqULq13yhPFhH7pdaSPsaTYeRjrTKsD2NYGDlM90PCPeZ5G6SNZca6S9XQJ4kOu_/s1600/Summer+037.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 293px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 327px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463846392289858194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYuI6-_M8r-9WUugljDTLqx0QLIovSdaWTWMN7jR2Ol7O4eLrtSeb8cmRYGTAd-ncejHZ9m5eCwx03QqULq13yhPFhH7pdaSPsaTYeRjrTKsD2NYGDlM90PCPeZ5G6SNZca6S9XQJ4kOu_/s320/Summer+037.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div><br />I walked past the bucket of donated berry money on my way out, noticing from the amount in it that quite a few people must have come inside the building on this day. I wondered if they had also seen the meditation spot toward the back corner, or had they felt single-minded, like they only had permission to enter, leave their offering, and exit promptly. I hoped more would linger and notice what I found, and leave not thinking of what money they had to give up, but what they could gladly leave behind (all that is surrendered in prayer) and gain (peace and welcoming).</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><div><div></div></div></div>Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-43098645069582470692010-04-18T21:00:00.005-05:002013-02-12T23:54:49.750-06:00Tibetan Singing Bowls<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1AMpmcvsaxbttijBpmqaKTprvAwpal9vHt0f7WqcFHgm8BnmAA2cFmzVqmp_rbOBpcdMaoxuch1xPKGhI-z_2EPJOpCxv55rqV4ofZTcKQ8ss4Nh1UsFSs43qUFOoB07BFt_8YrInV6Z/s1600/Family+Winter+Spring+09-10+079.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461238919570457010" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia1AMpmcvsaxbttijBpmqaKTprvAwpal9vHt0f7WqcFHgm8BnmAA2cFmzVqmp_rbOBpcdMaoxuch1xPKGhI-z_2EPJOpCxv55rqV4ofZTcKQ8ss4Nh1UsFSs43qUFOoB07BFt_8YrInV6Z/s400/Family+Winter+Spring+09-10+079.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 328px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>My birthday was last week, and my mom and sister gave me a very special present: an antique Tibetan singing bowl, dating back to the 18th century . . . just old enough to have accumulated some layers of use and history. My interest in Tibetan singing bowls began about two years ago, which prompted me to purchase a CD by Benjamin Iobst called Seven Metals: Singing Bowls of Tibet. After many repeat listenings to the calming sounds and varying tones of these bowls, I decided that I wanted to purchase my own bowl and came upon a great Web store that sells new and antique bowls: <a href="http://www.himalayanbowls.com/">http://www.himalayanbowls.com/</a>. On this site you can listen to different bowls to see which sound fits your style. Not many sites offer this feature. And if you are not familiar with the sound of singing bowls, I recommend you listen to a few just for fun. Very calming and centering.<br />
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Traditional Tibetan (or Himalayan) bowls are made from seven metals: gold, silver, mercury, copper, tin, lead, and iron. Sometimes iron would be replaced with meteorites found on the Himalayan mountaintops, often called "sky-iron" or "metal from the heavens". The combination of different metals is what makes them multiphonic instruments, which means they produce multiple harmonic overtones at the same time. Each metal produces its own overtone, resulting in a beautiful and sacred sound. As a singing bowl ages, it is gifted with richer tones and warmer, mellower sounds. The antique ones are worth spending more money on compared to the newer, cheaper, machine made varieties . . . which can sound good, but they lack the richness of sound that only time can produce--and they lack the hand-hammered, prayed-over qualities bestowed on by either monks or village craftsmen in days long gone.<br />
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The sound vibrations and harmonic frequencies of the bowls can stimulate the natural harmonic frequencies of different parts of the human body, putting physical, emotional, and spiritual energies back into alignment and providing a perfect environment for healing (a form of sound healing or sound therapy used by many holistic practitioners today). The multiple harmonic overtones have the ability to activate alpha brain waves, thus inducing relaxation, concentration, and meditation. The one simple goal, though, according to Tibetan monks, is to pay attention to what the bowl teaches you, through sound, about <strong><span style="color: black;">EMPTINESS </span></strong>(as the bowl is empty)--emptying our minds and going into our inner silence, the void, where our soul is waiting to reconnect with our whole being. Sound vibration affects not only the person using the singing bowl; it also affects the surrounding area, clearing negative energies and promoting inner wellness to those receptive to its teachings of emptiness. The sound and vibration carries far, even when we can't hear it anymore.<br />
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My bowl is only about five inches in diameter, but it has a beautiful sound. There are two ways to play it. One way is to just strike it on the rim or the inside with a wooden mallet or a wool covered mallet. The other way to play it is a true other-worldly experience: to circle the outer edge of the rim with the wood mallet in a steady rhythm until the sound starts to build, and then it resonates in a way that is so full and tonal, it envelopes your whole being and takes over your sense of sound for a moment. This way is called making the bowl "sing".<br />
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I guess I love this meditative experience because I love anything that involves heightened senses and subtleties. There is something so spiritual and sacred in this sound healing meditation that can only be understood through experience . . . even the CD does not do the bowls justice, though it is wonderful to listen to. Having a bowl to use is a beautiful ritual utilizing sound and vibrations to promote healing on so many levels. It's also special to use before prayer to help center yourself and rid the mind of the racing thoughts that often clutter our prayers.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplllVoXO7VQ__d-ZF9Cnygjh_ue_MmroqBiDIMrhfgkk5zRluLcAm0N6CV-3m_N4KzX6eIH0ntnOO8krzmM_GKp4M1TsiznJxO6-DX7_cAwY-bTIKn9JqtjJHME9AQBUSm0LWZFKqjTSj/s1600/Family+Winter+Spring+09-10+080.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461238719378946258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplllVoXO7VQ__d-ZF9Cnygjh_ue_MmroqBiDIMrhfgkk5zRluLcAm0N6CV-3m_N4KzX6eIH0ntnOO8krzmM_GKp4M1TsiznJxO6-DX7_cAwY-bTIKn9JqtjJHME9AQBUSm0LWZFKqjTSj/s400/Family+Winter+Spring+09-10+080.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 396px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-67500447749792835832010-03-18T14:00:00.005-05:002013-02-12T23:56:24.945-06:00Time for a Change<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427450849802665922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlhuVkgrh7GMvsmupd1CGwGWd5CiviLEuj-gANoKbc6GL0O7m_GkAHBh4B8aJNYx0E0Fbd3qp_X6IxdT7Xh-AcFBtqLLUsOM5JVQYzKDhoMiBDTah5JA49T23X2zmVfF6VN6EpRwK92l9e/s400/Heart+in+Creek+with+Leaves.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" />Over the past month I've been having dreams about my kids being toddler-young. The dreams are sweet, capturing memorable things about each one that I adored in them. My younger daughter was born with really big lips, still has them to this day, so her baby lips were featured in one of my dreams (odd, I know). In the dream were images of her snuggling up close to me, lips in my face, upset with something in that cute way only toddlers can get away with. (When you've seen adults try to pull anger and cuteness off at the same time, it <em>really</em> doesn't work!) The dreams of my older daughter have featured simply her nearness, which reminds me of years ago (ten, to be exact), being a new mom and getting used to having a new person to love who was ALWAYS there with me. Day in, day out. Exhausting--both mentally and physically, but in looking back, I see it as what jump-started my soul from merely <em>existing</em> to really being alive with <em>passion</em>. I was surprised at these dreams, because I don't usually dream about my children. Right now, life with them is still pretty simple and uncomplicated because they are only ten and seven. There's not much drama relating to them to work through in my dream state at this point. And then I realized that these dreams are not really about them; they are about me coming to terms with the fact that they have changed . . . are changing . . . will always be changing. I'm <em>not</em> okay with them getting older and growing out of those early years, because it means leaving behind a whole world, a whole pattern of living and interacting. But I have to learn to be okay with this inevitable change in them because it's unstoppable. It's all for good. The larger lesson for me in all this is to look around in other areas of my life where I've been fighting change within myself because I'm scared of letting go of old ways and patterns simply because I've gotten used to them, even though they don't serve me. Change always feels awkward and doesn't fit comfortably until you get into the flow of surrender and acceptance---where joy usually shows up. <br />
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Here are photos of my daughters standing against an old beech tree. The photos were taken exactly two years apart. Their physical changes are subtle yet dramatic at the same time. But the most important changes have taken place <em>within</em> each of them. </div>
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The beech tree as well has undergone dramatic change throughout its centuries in the earth. But the day-to-day physical changes are almost imperceivable. If the tree resisted its growth, though, its natural tendency to reach upward for height and yet also reach deep in the soil to remain anchored and stable would keep it a sapling, just a mere stick of what it could become if it accepted the changes in itself along the way. Change calls forth movement, uncertainty, transformation, discomfort, awkwardness, stops and starts, decision-making, and most important . . . FAITH. Faith in what could be, or hopefully will be. But it's all unknown.</div>
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Author Caroline Myss reflects on how life challenges us to move forward instead of remaining in an unyielding, mental mind-set: <em>"Seen symbolically, our life crises tell us that we need to break free of beliefs that no longer serve our personal development. These points at which we must choose to change or to stagnate are our greatest challenges. Every new crossroads means we enter into a new cycle of change . . . . And change inevitably means letting go . . . and moving on to another stage of life." </em></div>
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Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-34351798413166563902010-02-22T16:00:00.008-06:002010-02-22T18:04:35.314-06:00Ice Crisis<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5K3b8EhlEFVaMJhkeyD6RdMvrCtOJz071Lf7Fbr5kj9sXs3iJWt04MC_JqZb0ZHx_sGrEWQDz7vXPtXqDA9v2RSU-VkE1pccZ-v1XtpKQMwZpq5qmCX6-mPln7j54MiOpWDBd9V9il75y/s1600-h/Feb+2010+014.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435139695716868578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 332px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5K3b8EhlEFVaMJhkeyD6RdMvrCtOJz071Lf7Fbr5kj9sXs3iJWt04MC_JqZb0ZHx_sGrEWQDz7vXPtXqDA9v2RSU-VkE1pccZ-v1XtpKQMwZpq5qmCX6-mPln7j54MiOpWDBd9V9il75y/s400/Feb+2010+014.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />It's February . . . still. January felt long as well, with cold, icy, dark days that felt longer than their allotted twenty-four hours. But February is the final month that ends the bleak winter days (at least in the area I live), so the anticipation of March and spring just weeks away makes me want to move quickly through February. Sometimes I think it would be nice if humans could just collectively hibernate right about now. Just shut down, regain our strength, and avoid the feelings of bleakness that this season can bring. Then we could wake up as the warmth settles around us and the natural world comes to life with buds and flowers, inviting us once again to the world of renewal and hope and life. But the more I think about it, if humans could hibernate, we would miss out on many experiences that the "winter" months could teach us, if you look at the winter months symbolically . . . as times of tribulation. Read the following quote from author Caroline Myss in her book <em>Invisible Acts of Power</em>:<br /><br /><span style="color:#cccccc;">"Many of the crisis in our lives are divinely scheduled to get us to head in another direction. No one gets off a comfortable couch. We need stress, often an enormous amount of it, to muster up the willpower finally to try something new with our lives. As . . . Scott Peck writes, '. . . our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.' "</span><br /><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Everyone gets challenged by a crisis. But what usually happens with me is that I become paralyzed, useless, and unable to find my center. I generally don't take any action, even though my thoughts are spinning. A good word to describe my reaction during these times would be frozen . . . in a metaphorical winter ice crisis. When ice and snow come upon a landscape, it really cements things in place for a time. Small twigs are not likely to blow away until the ice releases its hold; rocks are almost impossible to dislodge from a frozen forest floor; and, on a lighter note, I've even had my daughter's jump rope become frozen under the ice, only to be rescued when the warm sun shines on it days later. When it snows here in Tennessee, life basically shuts down because no one is prepared to move fluidly along the roads, since our driving skills in icy conditions are lacking and the city rarely salts the roads thoroughly in preparation. So, I've had my fair share of days through the years in Tennessee of simply being stuck in one place for a few days because of the snow and ice. But recently, I've begun to take a new perspective on the benefits of the various internal "ice crises" I've found myself frozen in. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />For example, if I reword being "stuck" and "frozen" during a difficult time with being "still" and "receptive", then my attitude can change and the end result moves to a positive. Being still and receptive while moving through a difficulty also echoes of silence and meditation, waiting on God to reveal the next step, discernment, and rehabilitating the self through patience and gentleness.<br />I searched the Bible for references to snow, and I did not find anything negative associated with that word. In fact, the purity and renewal of snow was reiterated again and again. And it's true. Snow and ice can represent a new start, acting like a blanket, covering over the old decay of the past season. When it thaws, the water is set free, affirming life by allowing new growth to take root and established trees and plants to keep thriving. Can you see the need for stillness and patience as we learn to wait on God to move us through the difficulties? Help will come to us, but shutting down and becoming paralyzed by fear shuts down our ability to perceive God around us. He is always there, but we have to look and listen through our STILLNESS without letting our feelings of being frozen and stuck get the better of us. The crisis we are going through will "thaw", and the new growth that takes place when the Living Water runs through us only makes our souls more beautiful. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#00cccc;">Note: The above picture is a brachiopod fossil half, filled with tiny crystals, sitting in the snow.</span></div>Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-18936908041546778382010-02-06T09:00:00.000-06:002010-02-06T13:24:26.297-06:00The Prayer of My Child<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhag0AxWh9ui0kOIjL-pu-GJlIn-5swfHLYGo8SZMyH5j90I5XMoaxPSYkNxJLW8Mt4VS_tEqNUByXfx34wTAcLnn2NLR3s0w4D2hg8flDu9pMINuveYzvuJ1XT4HXEtg7XFYSeqTEfpCHi/s1600-h/Cheekwood+042.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 346px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435143863276714866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhag0AxWh9ui0kOIjL-pu-GJlIn-5swfHLYGo8SZMyH5j90I5XMoaxPSYkNxJLW8Mt4VS_tEqNUByXfx34wTAcLnn2NLR3s0w4D2hg8flDu9pMINuveYzvuJ1XT4HXEtg7XFYSeqTEfpCHi/s400/Cheekwood+042.JPG" /></a> This past September my sister gave my youngest daughter, age seven, a crucifix for her birthday. No, neither my sister nor I are Catholic, but we both respect other denominations and often intermingle various religious customs in our own to enhance our spirituality. The crucifix she picked out was silver with pink beads, and it came stored in a sweet little ceramic dish in the shape of a bed with a child sleeping in it, holding a bunny. Very child-friendly. She felt that this gift was appropriate for my daughter because she has displayed an ease at talking with God and "connecting" to Him through prayer and the songs she writes . . . ("Heart of Gold" topping the list as my favorite.) When she opened the gift, she kinda knew what it was, but my sister explained more fully what a crucifix was and its use during prayer. She then gave her a simplified way to use it with prayer: just hold it while praying and use it to help feel closer to God. Simple enough . . . even though some Catholics might be in an uproar by now at this modified usage!<br /><br />She doesn't use it very much, but it sits in its ceramic dish on her nightstand day after day, a sort of zen spot amid the cluttered mess of her extremely disorganized room. One night, though, I walked in to say goodnight and tell her that her Daddy would be in soon to say prayers with her (as is the nightly ritual), when I noticed she had her crucifix out and cradled in her hand, in the dark. She asked me to sit down and tell her of any prayer requests I had. I was a little thrown off, since I had never heard her say the words "prayer requests" before, but I sat down and smiled, knowing that my heart was in fact a bit troubled by a particular issue that day in which I had not yet prayed for help. For a moment I was tickled at the situation; it felt as if I was going into a Catholic confessional, and she was there to listen in the cloak of darkness, as if I was one of many people who would be passing through her room that night seeking peace and redemption. But I quickly reminded myself that God had simply stirred in her heart, and without her questioning it, she asked me to tell her my requests, so I did . . . to my child . . . but really to God (while we both touched the rosary): "I pray that my body feels better very soon and that I stop worrying about it." That was all I said; then I asked her for a prayer request, and she chirpily replied, "Oh, I don't really have any. I just wanted you to say one." Well, well, well, was I caught off-guard. That was the whole purpose . . . my prayer for myself, with my daughter (the power of two or more). Children are so open to the divine when it calls. And she, unknowingly, answered the calling of God to specifically ask to pray with me and for me.<br /><br />I thank God every day for the blessings of my children! Amen!Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-52270149271628029882010-01-17T17:00:00.003-06:002013-02-12T23:56:48.216-06:00Into the Light<div align="center">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKSfx51z8DF681s3PQVoelkMmpHAlmSR2LchvV5FpVqfGvT53EVmQoS2MTsAiKHpHHT003Ehx77RKIQZ1cWmubN2Us8BQlncQcWCX6w-X-49GgliHlyR9i184g0xbpoYabAMTFV7gmxs-/s1600-h/december+09+christmas+021.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427842535537121330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKSfx51z8DF681s3PQVoelkMmpHAlmSR2LchvV5FpVqfGvT53EVmQoS2MTsAiKHpHHT003Ehx77RKIQZ1cWmubN2Us8BQlncQcWCX6w-X-49GgliHlyR9i184g0xbpoYabAMTFV7gmxs-/s400/december+09+christmas+021.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 290px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a> My mother gave me this heart rock today. Usually I'm the one who finds the heart rocks, so this was an unexpected gift. It was not found by her, though. It was found by my great grandfather on my father's side, Charles, whom I never met . . . he died before I was born. In the early 1900s he collected arrowheads, along with a few other interesting rocks. My mother came over today to hand over half of his collection to me (and the other half will go to my sister). The collection includes petrified wood, arrowheads, clear quartz, calcite, carnelian, and many other types of stones. But, of course, my eyes went straight to this small heart rock, and I had to smile at the generational link between us. For even though we never knew each other, we both obviously appreciated treasures in the natural world.<br />
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Now let me explain why this picture above is so very important to me, because it represents right where I'm at spiritually. First, notice that there is so much darkness in the photo. I did that on purpose . . . I could have cropped it away, but metaphorically it captures the darkness that has surrounded me during a recent time of struggle in my life. As much as I wanted to immediately push away the darkness and pretend that it was not there, it could not be denied. It had to be acknowledged. As Neal Donald Walsh states in his book <em>Conversations with God</em>, "What we resist persists. What we look at goes away." So, with much reluctance I accepted that I was in a dark period. After a while I started to understand that the dark time was a sort of slowing down time, a time for contemplation and refining, although much fear was felt at this stage as well, because darkness always seems to arouse fear in me. After all, I can't see things clearly. I don't trust that walking through the dark with my hands outstretched will lead me safely into God's arms. I'm more afraid that I'll end up farther away, in more darkness, unable to return to any sense of safety. My tendency is to panic in the dark moments, which highlights my lack of faith. This refining period proved to be painful, yet productive. Empty, yet full of beauty the more I stopped running and started looking at what God had to teach me.<br />
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Now notice the red flower in the photo, rising up out of the dark, soft and encapsulating. It seems to be suspended in the dark, thriving amidst its bleak surroundings. This represents hope, safety, and rescue . . . or, simply put, God. Even through my struggle in the "dark", I was never alone. I was always resting in the soft layers of spiritual divinity, nestled in His promise of rescue, enlightenment, and refinement.<br />
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Obviously, in the photo, the heart rock represents me, being gently supported by the velvety petals of God's love. The heart rock's colors also represent me as well: darkness and light swirling together, making a beautiful, although not perfect, design. But the light that seems to pop from this rock is what matters most; it represents my spiritual light. The fact that there is any light at all in me proves that He is doing His work in me. I'm still not perfect; therefore the dark veins still course through me, but the light always shines through, pushing the darkness away, ultimately triumphing. The darkness within myself serves a purpose, though. It keeps me real, allows me to approach others with my brokenness, and reminds me that He has more work to do in me. So the next time I'm refined, hopefully I won't resist it or fear it as much as I did this time around. </div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">"Learn the alchemy true human beings know.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">The moment you accept what troubles you've been given,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000;">~Rumi~</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff6666;">"And the time came when the risk to remain tight in a bud</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff6666;">to blossom."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #ff6666;">~Anais Nin~</span></div>
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Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-47519598275855629462009-12-28T13:00:00.003-06:002009-12-28T16:56:51.607-06:00A Soft Place to Land<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEGZI17bf6241j1PcNNvN66iv-EsnZIARLVNkxrIuHmtGtcqjFZKP56E7WrpuvTJxIGXWtdwjW6tS3ZLBGHS262uzIljvdB9A97yWhP3NALxpul2ZiwDI5U3toSThglu5QSc9RBoM0Cf5O/s1600-h/december+09+021.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 334px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420073660085896274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEGZI17bf6241j1PcNNvN66iv-EsnZIARLVNkxrIuHmtGtcqjFZKP56E7WrpuvTJxIGXWtdwjW6tS3ZLBGHS262uzIljvdB9A97yWhP3NALxpul2ZiwDI5U3toSThglu5QSc9RBoM0Cf5O/s400/december+09+021.JPG" /></a>A couple of years ago I discovered a special place in the woods that I call the moss trail. It's not a trail for walking on, but every now and then I can't help myself, I just have to take the detour and get my feet on that path . . . that soft place to land when I need a little extra support. I often notice many areas where animals have walked because the moss has been kicked up in places; maybe a deer, bobcat (yes, I've seen bobcats in these woods), or a fox were travelers here. And it makes me smile to think that even the animals can't resist this many-hued green pathway. The moss in the picture above is the most predominant variety on the path, but the beautiful sage green reindeer moss is abundant as well. I love to just set my gaze on the various green mosses and take in the natural colors on display before me. One day, while with my two daughters and husband, I showed them the trail for the first time. The girls loved it and wanted to explore deeper into the woods down the moss path, which was farther than I had ever gone before. To all of our surprise, the path went on and on. We passed large rocks, beautiful, old trees, and places that seemed untouched and untraveled. I had to smile as I watched my daughters literally lie down on the moss and revel in the natural beauty and comfort around them. And my oldest, who is very sensitive and easily frightened at anything, especially death, told me she wanted to be buried right there under the moss! Wow! For just a brief moment she got out of her fearful mind and entered into that beautiful S P A C E where there is no fear, no worry, only a pure moment of being in the present, graced by the divine. I'm glad she allowed her soul to shine it's radiant, true self in the moment, reminding me that we are so connected to the natural world but so often forget it. We are made of organic elements just like the trees, dirt, streams, and rocks. It's only natural that we should feel so at home and so connected while in the woods, or traveling through the desert, or on a mountaintop, or at the ocean. </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;color:#cc9933;">"There is a great healing in the wild. When you go out into nature, you bring your clay body back to its native realm. A day in the mountains or by the ocean helps your body unclench. You recover your deeper rhythm . . . you begin to realize the magnitude and magic of being here. In a wild place you are actually<span style="color:#ffcc33;"> </span><span style="color:#ffff66;"><em>IN</em></span> the middle of the great prayer. "</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#33ff33;">~John O'Donohue, <em>Eternal Echoes</em></span></span></span></div>Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-20889898846617337502009-12-06T21:00:00.003-06:002009-12-06T22:05:46.206-06:00Beauty Redefined<div align="center"><span style="color:#ffcc00;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrd6by9lnizpq-WS5AXxCs39uxMA-Uq8vszzftIUs0NyVNKrU5BtTzT1x7L41yTHy1IA3VQ3bNsqCBjNQTaS0j2o4Hu7xzDjMHadG4v2fn5Awi-dT6_N72oNQ2rRTzvunFyPMi_kmMyR3J/s1600/fall_'09_032_(2).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407842853173423170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrd6by9lnizpq-WS5AXxCs39uxMA-Uq8vszzftIUs0NyVNKrU5BtTzT1x7L41yTHy1IA3VQ3bNsqCBjNQTaS0j2o4Hu7xzDjMHadG4v2fn5Awi-dT6_N72oNQ2rRTzvunFyPMi_kmMyR3J/s400/fall_'09_032_(2).JPG" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;">"The irony of being here is that sometimes it is precisely what you want to avoid that brings you further towards creativity and compassion." </span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ffcc00;"><span style="color:#cc0000;">~ John O'Donohue, <em>Eternal Echoes</em></span></span></div><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span></em></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#000000;">The past few years I've been challenged to redefine my idea of beauty. Beauty in everyday life. Beauty in my surroundings. Beauty in the face of another. I had this inherent belief that beauty is only what looks good, or makes you feel good and peaceful, or what pleases the mind, creating a sense that all is well and in its right place. If I experienced beauty, it meant I didn't want to look away from someone or something because IT DID NOT CAUSE ANY PAIN. And this can all be true of beauty. But lately I was first gently nudged, then shoved into understanding and seeing the other dimension of beauty and the unexpectedly generous supply of wisdom it holds. But it requires an often uncomfortable journey into pain--either physical, mental, or spiritual-- which I have too often avoided because I was afraid of "not being pleased."</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#000000;">A few things in particular stand out as I allowed beauty to be redefined in my heart. One was a relational disappointment in which I expected something from someone who had nothing to give me. I was forced to look at painful truths about myself, in what appeared to be rejection. In reality, it was <em>redirection</em> that was offered to me, which was beauty manifesting through the strength of another. I went through a "dark night of the soul" period, in which everything seemed ugly and empty, even myself. But after a while I started paying attention to what was going on inside of me. And I noticed that I was beginning to grow spiritually, in new and different ways. Beauty revealed itself to me in my emotional pain, as strange as it sounds. The pain I felt propelled me toward my Maker, seeking direction and comfort in Him.<br /><br /></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000000;">Another way that beauty was redefined for me was during a recent bout with pain--physical pain. I'm a relatively strong and healthy person, with not a lot to complain about in the health department. But when I recently experienced an injury that left me in chronic pain for months (I'm still recovering!), it rocked my world. Needless to say I did not handle the pain well. Fear crept in, a few panic attacks were unleashed, and my mood plummeted. I wondered if I'd ever get better. But then my thoughts went to the numerous people who will truly live with chronic pain throughout their life, with no relief. I've often overlooked those who chronically suffer with pain because it was overwhelming to me. And it was easy to overlook those who hurt when I felt so wonderful. So this injury really opened my heart to have compassion for those suffering physical pain. This has been important to me since I practice Reiki (a form of energy work). I often help those with physical pain, as well as emotional issues. And I can only be helpful to my clients if I have an appropriate level of empathy. My empathy toward others definitely increased because of the pain I was in. The beauty of this lesson was only revealed through the pain I experienced. Not a fun process for me, but full of lessons and self-discovery. </span></div><div align="center"></div><p align="center"><span style="color:#000000;">I love the above John O'Donohue quote that reminds us that beauty is often found in the things we avoid. No one chooses to suffer. No one wants to walk into something that is seemingly "unbeautiful" and painful. But when we find ourselves in a situation that seems to be a struggle, we need to surrender to it and let it run its course in us and use the experience as a teacher. Then our surrounding darkness can be infused with a bit of light, which translates into beauty, and we can watch it transform us.<br /></p></span>Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-68561974068457686442009-10-22T19:15:00.010-05:002012-05-19T09:58:15.473-05:00A Reluctant Heart<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9hcBrBVQoq8TfVDlgZjsWEfBEA5F8LSaQuVszsZy6Xfyk8TFnKTv3hsQ39VP2oGKdO04GVnPs28oNJJHhiWnISNTITVmuEHMw9g3T6RZtNntTO4-mtFSdyCxX_rhJRr3_uLDhoEIDU3q/s1600-h/owl's+hill+036+(2).JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396244624886776002" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9hcBrBVQoq8TfVDlgZjsWEfBEA5F8LSaQuVszsZy6Xfyk8TFnKTv3hsQ39VP2oGKdO04GVnPs28oNJJHhiWnISNTITVmuEHMw9g3T6RZtNntTO4-mtFSdyCxX_rhJRr3_uLDhoEIDU3q/s400/owl's+hill+036+(2).JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="color: black;">Have you ever had the realization that you're not as helpful a person as you thought you were? I'm in the middle of a wake-up call right now, taking a deeper look at my under-the-surface reluctance to be helpful to someone truly in need. I'm so ashamed, I have to confess. But this experience has made me look at other times when I have avoided helping someone because I thought someone else surely would, or because I was wary of getting too involved and, possibly, taken advantage of. Horrible thoughts, I know, but I'm wondering if I'm not the only one who feels this way at times. Sure, it's easy to help when I am not inconvenienced or pulled out of my comfort zone. But what about those other, more intimate situations when a person is seeking help? Well, let me confess here my avoidance to a dear woman's needs, then the blessing I received after "getting involved." Maybe it will help you look at someone in need (really look them in the eyes) with compassion rather than avoidance. Here goes . . .</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">I received an e-mail from a parent at my daughter's elementary school---a desperate mother who needed her daughter driven to school . . . and picked up, for an extended/indefinite period of time. She was given my e-mail by a person who knew we lived in the same area and thought it would be convenient to take her. I was reluctant to agree to the daily carpool, because it meant the girl arriving at 7:oo in the morning, hanging out with our family, and being subjected to our harried morning madness until we leave at 7:25. It also obligated me to help out in the afternoon, picking up her daughter and then meeting the mom and other children at a bus stop and driving all home every afternoon. I felt smothered already, even before accepting to help, so I simply ignored the e-mail, assuming she had other people to contact for help. But she persisted, until I finally agreed, during a desperate phone call one evening. During that phone call I learned the story behind her need:</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">She is a divorced mother of three children, all going to different schools. The mother is in school full time, working on a master's degree, trying to get a better job to raise her three children . . . alone. Her car had recently caught on fire, just as the new school year started. Now her extra money has to be saved in order to buy another car, which will take some time. I found out that she and her children walk about 2.5 miles before their school starts each morning (and again in the afternoon) to either catch the city bus (she and her son) or walk to a gas station where her younger daughter was getting picked up for school by someone else, who eventually stopped her services with no explanation.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">So, I got involved. When I met her, all it took was one look in this woman's eyes, one look into her children's eyes, to see that NOT helping her was not an option. Her eyes were like my eyes; her children's eyes like my own children's eyes. Would I want to be ignored, passed off, or seen as a burden? Would I want my children to not be able to get to school? Would I want ANY major need unmet for me or my family? Of course not. Needless to say, I made an immediate friend in this woman. She's awesome, and so inspiring: in her strength, in her attitude, and in the grace with which she handles every unpleasant circumstance. She flows. She trusts. She is focused on a better tomorrow, a better future. She does not allow thoughts of scarcity (not having enough or not having needs met) to paralyze her. What a blessing for me to know her. I'm now fine with my role as driver for as long as she needs my help. We've bonded. I'm "involved." I got out of my "comfort zone" and headed straight into the unknown zone, where so much learning and growth and blessing awaits. And all it took was looking someone in the eyes and really seeing their situation as if it were my own. </span><br />
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<em><strong><span style="color: #bf9000;">The heart rock pictured above is particularly unique. It has two parts to it: the bottom is a piece of crystallized honeycomb coral; the top part (the heart rock) sits fused on the piece of fossilized coral. Two seemingly unrelated natural pieces have come together. This union is so special to me. It's almost as if the coral is "carrying" the heart rock. This is another natural-element example of how we are all called to carry one another in life. Doing so not only leads to a need being met--it also creates beauty. And in carrying another we also increase our opportunities of being carried when we are in need. The beauty of carrying and being carried by another changes us and reminds us that we are all united; we are all one.</span></strong></em></div>Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-8146509084650878372009-09-22T11:00:00.000-05:002013-02-12T23:57:15.025-06:00A Heart Unto My Path<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9bhOHgn9V0IIVSHiE1PnwXOhc9utCsj82zST1x6PEoAgqBIMHwSeyp-dL2811MYxWgOFNfV-AkiZnEnSOz-8EOByacr44qSk88GCwhzG8JS2SqvUMGCveHp4udh0U6V0UOsm_Pd1kiVg/s1600-h/Heart+004.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372890685733214530" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9bhOHgn9V0IIVSHiE1PnwXOhc9utCsj82zST1x6PEoAgqBIMHwSeyp-dL2811MYxWgOFNfV-AkiZnEnSOz-8EOByacr44qSk88GCwhzG8JS2SqvUMGCveHp4udh0U6V0UOsm_Pd1kiVg/s400/Heart+004.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 279px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
It had been at the end of a particularly emotional week for me when I came upon this heart, which is part of the natural coloration of the old cedar tree. I was surprised to have never noticed it before, because I pass it very often. Just as the saying goes: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear," the heart appeared in my field of vision when it was the right time to hear its message. It illuminated my path when I was feeling concerned about some life situations. It sent the clear message that "<em>All is as it</em> <em>should be</em>" and that God is always mindful of me. I felt that even though my day had started out with a general sense of loneliness and lack of clarity, I am never alone . . . ever. Reflecting on the world of spirit, I began to remind myself of the invisible world that is always working and weaving in my life: the Holy Spirit and angels, all working to remind me Whose I am. And I'm constantly thankful for the natural-world illuminations, such as hearts in nature, to direct my thoughts to a higher place.<br />
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I also noticed the significance of the fact that my "found" heart was on a tree, a cedar tree in particular. In Native American traditions, the cedar tree was thought to have strong protection and cleansing properties for people. Also, the cedar is a tough survivor, withstanding less-than-perfect environmental conditions; therefore it can teach us to anchor ourselves onto a secure foundation and reach not only toward the foundation (which for the tree would be the ground), but to move up, stretching to new heights. A wonderful contrast of darkness and light. This darkness is not the sort to be wary of. The tree does amazing things under the surface of the earth. In the darkness of the soil, it creates, receives nourishment, and prepares to enter it's journey upward. Through these silent roots, so much is taking place in the darkness of creation. Through this dark silence, the roots navigate instinctively, running as long and deep as the tree will need for support. Growth is slow, but steady. To much growth above the surface, and the tree will not be properly supported. Too many roots and not enough action above ground never allows the tree to reach its potential, denying the animals and humans it's canopy, fruit, nuts, beauty, and wood. The ecosystem benefits when a tree has a harmonious balance of darkness and light, silence and growth. They are essential for the success and growth of the tree.<br />
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Light and darkness. A wonderful contrast because they actually work together to create life. So when I'm experiencing my "dark" days, I can now understand that they will be perfectly balanced with light-filled ones in which I will come away from the dark circumstance closer to God and, just as important, closer to my true self.Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-87793173449988745462009-07-10T11:53:00.007-05:002013-02-12T23:57:37.923-06:00An Unexpected Match<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibMtksZFNQpqTbXZBP0cjOqIH2B-HdXW0YSRMb3M48xSjWPsEcrUvRatlylVcYdlLxK_3Gp9fxi7NosBOYw_1CW0C_vmPpj-sJ02DygIaKnqzy2pEvk88GT5iAMjMB1MywlHBMrubIp8od/s1600-h/Heart+Rocks+%26+Fossils+017.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356875924297155826" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibMtksZFNQpqTbXZBP0cjOqIH2B-HdXW0YSRMb3M48xSjWPsEcrUvRatlylVcYdlLxK_3Gp9fxi7NosBOYw_1CW0C_vmPpj-sJ02DygIaKnqzy2pEvk88GT5iAMjMB1MywlHBMrubIp8od/s400/Heart+Rocks+%26+Fossils+017.JPG" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 338px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>This picture might appear a little confusing, so let me explain. I found the orange-colored rock in the woods and was drawn to it because it was half heart-shaped, reminding me of how I am incomplete within my own soul without God residing in me and restoring my brokenness. You can't see from the picture, but along the back of this rock, a crystal band runs through it, bright and sparkly. I only discovered that feature after I took it home and scrubbed it clean. Of course, I was pleasantly surprised and felt that the rock now had even more value to me.<br />
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The other rock, the gray one, has many large, deep holes. It's really interesting to look at structurally. And it makes me wonder what caused all those holes millions of years ago. Rocks really are ancient masterpieces and windows to the past because so much history can be revealed by the study of their composition. Rocks are timeless, really, because they carry a bit of <em>all</em> time within their makeup.<br />
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When I saw the large, gray rock, I had a feeling that my half heart-shaped rock just might complete some visual picture of completeness for me if I worked with it a little. And almost effortlessly, I joined the two, creating what you see above . . . a picture of wholeness. The craggy, orange rock was released from its broken, unfulfilled state and realized its heart potential by joining with another seemingly broken, gaping rock. I think the match is beautiful, actually, even though the textures, colors, and ancient journey of the two rocks couldn't be more different.<br />
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Kind of reminds me of how God uses His people to heal one another. We all come from different backgrounds and have different wounds within us (represented by the craggy and gaping rocks). He is still the orchestrator of the restoration, but by people interacting with each other, sharing their brokenness and uniting on this journey, we can find moments of beauty and wholeness . . . even if it's not perfect beauty or perfect wholeness, which will only be found when we move on to the new earth that awaits. So, the imperfect union of our souls suffices, as I believe that this is just the tip of the iceberg of what is to come.Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-70475918865170845232009-06-16T12:00:00.000-05:002009-06-16T11:32:06.536-05:00Keep on Tryin'<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmTO1Ara9NMIEC17EFuh5vljEQhRr21MWTq8xCVi6NvIjMPthnULkO5S74NP7qJO5dmtAey__kRoYwqburOLhoTnnU5zkY9JQiBzmmcoaOrERJyUlroOxrTLL5YgSI0jveaVW-z7YGiwup/s1600-h/Heart+Rocks+%26+Fossils+006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347312658218010242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 326px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmTO1Ara9NMIEC17EFuh5vljEQhRr21MWTq8xCVi6NvIjMPthnULkO5S74NP7qJO5dmtAey__kRoYwqburOLhoTnnU5zkY9JQiBzmmcoaOrERJyUlroOxrTLL5YgSI0jveaVW-z7YGiwup/s400/Heart+Rocks+%26+Fossils+006.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#000000;">In early spring a mother bird persistently built her nest under our carport. Upon her first attempt at building, the bits of pine straw, twigs, and dried-out grass easily blew away. I couldn't imagine the mother bird ever having success at building a sturdy base upon which she could complete the nest. I think the first <em>few</em> attempts failed, actually. And I thought to myself, <em>Good grief, give up already! It's obviously NOT the place to build. Try somewhere else. </em>But that bird kept at it. I remember one morning as I headed out the door--noticing the bird making yet another attempt--there were once again only a few starter pieces to the nest. But by the next afternoon it appeared complete. I was astounded! How could she go from those poor first attempts to absolute triumph seemingly overnight?<br /><br />I learned that nest building is instinctive; birds cannot <em>not</em> complete the task. They rest when their hard-wired building impulses have been satiated through completing the task. Birds even instinctively know what building materials to use: mud, spider webs, caterpillar silk, leaf mold, plant fibers, and saliva, which are then intertwined with twigs, leaves, grass, and/or straw. Hundreds of trips are made from their building site to various places to gather all of the supplies needed. All done with a beak! . . . pretty resourceful, if you ask me.<br /><br />I started wondering what instinctive behaviors I have, besides the basic ones: survival, sleeping, eating, language acquisition, sense of right/wrong, and so on. I wanted to think outside the structured scientific definition of "instinct" and look at what is unique to me. What instincts do I have (even though scientifically they might not really be <em>instincts</em>)? What is hard-wired into my being that I try to fight or deny as being a part of me? Well, an obvious one is the creative flow. I'm hard-wired to unleash my creativity in various ways: writing, decorating, gardening, even parenting. Yet so often I lack the confidence to let the creative process flow. I stifle it. I think what I create isn't good enough. I undersell my natural skills to myself and others. Or I become envious of others' skills that are seemingly better than mine . . . creating the comparison game, which only paralyzes me from any creative action. Instinctively I know that being creative resonates with my being. But my human nature fights the process out of, well, I guess you'd call it insecurity. Or fear of failure. Or fear of not being good enough. But the birds don't play that mind game with their nest-building. They get up, perform their God-given instinctive duties, and get it done.<br /><br />Even with my poor first attempts at something, I need to remember that those early efforts always lead to the next step. Thus the opposite is true as well: <em>No steps lead nowhere</em>. And that's not gonna work for me. Each attempt at the creative life builds momentum to propel more energy into the next project. And as a whole the constant movement is all a success. The failure only lies in the lack of movement. The "frozen moments" as I call them. Or "creative paralysis".<br /><br />Again . . . nature always sends us such simple messages about how to achieve inner wellness. By the way, the momma bird in our yard went on to have two baby birds. One flew away with ease and dignity; the other bird took days and days and DAYS to get the whole flying/worm catching thing accomplished (it was quite a sad sight to see, actually). That poor momma bird was just as persistent with her (rather large at this point) baby as she was with building her nest. She tirelessly fed it worms and encouraged it to fly, only getting a weak attempt from her baby to try these things on its own. Hours and hours (believe me, I had nothing better to do than keep up with this, so I know) were spent following her "big" baby all over the yard, while it simply hopped everywhere, waiting to be fed. After five days there was triumph. The birds left the yard, and the circle of life continued: the baby bird finally succeeded in flying.<br /><br />Just like that momma bird who stayed the course for her baby while it was developing its skills, God is here for us as we stumble through our weak attempts at accomplishing our life's mission. And then one day it clicks in us. We get it. We are confident enough to carry on with the instinctive skills for which we were created to use in this world. And help was always by our side . . . in the form of many things God chooses to use: people, angels, nature . . . . Just keep your heart open to the encouraging messages around you.<br /></span><span style="color:#333333;"></span>Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-15587697157198773012009-06-03T17:00:00.000-05:002009-06-03T16:55:20.820-05:00Living Water<span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPTv1x3RaTswfeDLoc25MAaAAqck5lEXhjO8N_GHY1y59cz2xKzJzwobbnSgFhu9ycrVzi7wY0oz59onT4kXosxtjuPpBLORAZG1hcxh6wyIJsdpwLF7Kfm2qE-iBRt8hcUdZsTaEpgCq/s1600-h/Heart+Rocks+%26+Fossils+030.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340117643281454770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 254px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPTv1x3RaTswfeDLoc25MAaAAqck5lEXhjO8N_GHY1y59cz2xKzJzwobbnSgFhu9ycrVzi7wY0oz59onT4kXosxtjuPpBLORAZG1hcxh6wyIJsdpwLF7Kfm2qE-iBRt8hcUdZsTaEpgCq/s400/Heart+Rocks+%26+Fossils+030.JPG" border="0" /></a>Last month I spent the morning with my dear <em>anam cara</em> friend, collecting rocks in a creek near her childhood home. My friend is in her '70s, so it's always special for her to return to her roots and share the area with others. According to her, things haven't changed too much over the past sixty years in the rural area where we were, so I was able to see a snapshot into her early years as a girl in the creek we were in. We parked the car in the shallow part of the creek, put on our rubber boots and gloves, and started searching for any rocks we wanted to take back with us, big or small. (We love rock collecting!) While wading through the water--getting off-balance at times because of the current--I was lulled by the sound of the water flowing and it quickly cleared my mind from all the internal chatter I had arrived at the creek with. I was able to let go of my oft-worrisome stream of consciousness and let the natural stream of water provided by the earth fill my senses, providing a much-needed mental break for me. Even the trees blowing in the wind echoed their own memory of the water that has nourished them since their days as saplings. Their leaves rustling reminded me of ocean waves, gently building in power and volume, then easing off, only to complete the cycle of mimicking the sound of ocean waves again.<br /><br />Focusing on the water element all morning while combing the creek for rocks brought all sorts of water symbolism to mind. For instance, water itself is a wonderful example of a transformer. It changes shape to fit the environment it is in. If water is in a well, it runs deep into the earth at the source. If it is poured into a container, it will take on the shape of that container. If it is allowed to flow and spread, then it will do so, as in a creek. This reminds me to be flexible in life, yielding and bending and adapting to the life situations that arise in which I often tighten up and fight against, not allowing things to just happen . . . not surrendering and trusting God to be in control of each moment.<br /><br />If you stop to consider that our bodies are approximately 80% water, then each of us basically operates as a mini ocean, full of water, salt, and oxygen, with everything constantly flowing and and maintaining life within us. Without water, there is no life. Likewise, without Jesus, the Living Water, there is no life. Through God's promise of the Living Water He provides for us, which is Jesus, we have hope that we will always have life . . . eternal life. And we will be eternally restored.<br /><br />For now, though, it is enough to simply be on this earth, with a dear friend, in a creek, collecting rocks, listening to the ocean-like sounds of the leaves rustling. And when the water from the creek starts to fill my boots after taking a step in an unexpectedly deep spot, I welcome the elemental feel on my skin as a reminder to allow myself to adapt to situations with ease and fluidity.<br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"><span style="color:#ffcc00;">WATER</span> . . . . the ultimate <em>healer</em>, <em>purifier</em>, <em>transformer</em>.</span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#000099;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">JESUS</span> . . . the ultimate <em>healer</em>, <em>purifier</em>, <em>transformer</em>.</span></div><div align="center"></div>Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-68656388485334160952009-04-26T22:47:00.013-05:002009-04-27T14:10:25.751-05:00The Lily of the Valley<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidz9hh-80UPiJ-4qUT1MhoLdIlVsIp-nNOmQuv_kpsn_T8R6G5Y2icIijd2nPEouTp2aFkC28-aizsjqGXEtg_G2kWjCqbEU8ZpCBhr3qol-Dzr0aKqIe_azBJ9dXILT3l7l4TSFGT4Ajl/s1600-h/004.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329213169327101842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 323px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidz9hh-80UPiJ-4qUT1MhoLdIlVsIp-nNOmQuv_kpsn_T8R6G5Y2icIijd2nPEouTp2aFkC28-aizsjqGXEtg_G2kWjCqbEU8ZpCBhr3qol-Dzr0aKqIe_azBJ9dXILT3l7l4TSFGT4Ajl/s400/004.JPG" border="0" /></a>Two years ago my mother-in-law dug up a L<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ily</span></span></span> of the Valley plant for me to put in my garden. I was excited to have this delicate little flower in my shade garden, but because it is a relatively small plant, and its blooming season is quite short, I missed the blooms on it last year. It blooms right after the daffodils, hyacinths, and tulips . . . so I just forgot to "stay tuned" for this spring flower to make its debut. All that I saw last year was the greenery and dried-out flowers. Then this year, I forgot I even had the plant! But the other day I was planting some hydrangeas . . . and then there it was . . . the L<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ily</span></span></span> of the Valley in full bloom! Without even remembering to look for it, I somehow instinctively made my way toward it. Just as it is often the case with my relationship and connection to Jesus. I know it's there . . . I intend to check in . . . but I get sidetracked, or I temporarily forget what's there and go on to other things that grab my attention. But my soul instinctively remembers the connection I will always have to Jesus. And when I lay down my jumbled thoughts that distract me and tap into my soul's longing, I always seem to reconnect with what I often keep buried in the dirt: <em>Jesus</em>. And He deserves so much more than laying dormant in my heart like a bulb in the dirt. He deserves to sprout within my heart and extend into the world. And I'm worthy of Him living through me as well!<br /><br /><br />Jesus is often referred to as the Lily of the Valley for many symbolic reasons. But I'll share my favorite reasons why this flower links so closely to Him:<br /><br /><br />With their heads bowed toward the ground, L<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ily</span> of the Valley blooms represent the <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">humility</span></strong> that Christ modeled. I struggle so much with this, being very stubborn and strong-willed at times. I constantly remind myself that humility is not weakness but the highest form of inner strength. We can most effectively serve others when we put away our false pride and humble ourselves. I love one definition I found for humility: "the absence of vanity." That about says it for me.<br /><br />Lily of the valley, I learned, is an extremely <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">fruitful</span></strong> plant. One root can produce fifty bulbs! That's a lot of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">lily</span>! Through the death and resurrection of Jesus, He bears much fruit, and He glorified the Father by doing so. I am called to do the same. To bear fruit in His name by how I live my life and how I love others. This often produces a ripple effect in the world. As one good, humble deed often leads to other good deed by applying the "pay it forward" philosophy.<br /><br />Another fact I learned about L<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ily</span> of the Valley is that it exceeds other flowers in whiteness. This links to Jesus in His <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">purity</span></strong>. In His lack of sin. And it's only by His purity that we are made clean and pure. I used to struggle with the teaching that we are truly made clean--white as snow--in God's eyes by His grace through Jesus. It's mind-boggling that anything so dirty could ever come clean again (although I've seen pressure washers do some good cleaning!). But I just have to come to grips with the fact that there are just some things that are true no matter how well I understand them. And becoming pure is one of those things.<br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Humility. Fruitfulness. Purity.</span> </strong></div><br />Such wonderful symbolism from a little plant like L<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ily</span> of the Valley. God always seems to get His message across in the simplest things and in the simplest of ways. He really doesn't work through layers of obscurity and confusion . . . He quietly plants His seed within us and lets the answers unfold through our experience of the world, but only if we care to notice. That's the key. Because it's always our choice to listen or not.Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4044107442782320574.post-18103515379349899862009-03-11T12:18:00.013-05:002013-02-12T23:58:31.052-06:00Broken Open<div align="center">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oeq8rVUfboVZ8PaVE_2_xc_h7eFWkz7mdr0a0SzOxAS5C9yyByiZ15OvrJbvQh3NBYhsi8BGHNDV7Sxx9orkZxoXKpeYlnRAwI006mlmDocJPxArmBUvlz9TEJeMcxAc64TCp1_k3bfO/s1600-h/DSC02913.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311980941611640050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oeq8rVUfboVZ8PaVE_2_xc_h7eFWkz7mdr0a0SzOxAS5C9yyByiZ15OvrJbvQh3NBYhsi8BGHNDV7Sxx9orkZxoXKpeYlnRAwI006mlmDocJPxArmBUvlz9TEJeMcxAc64TCp1_k3bfO/s320/DSC02913.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 229px;" /></a> There's a large rock in the woods where I hike that is half buried in the middle of the trail and could easily be mistaken for a tree root. It caught my eye one day because the end that juts out of the ground has a circular/ring pattern on the tip. Nothing too impressive though. I often wondered if it might be some type of fossil, or just an unusually detailed edge. But it was too large and embedded to really look at. I'd notice it every now and again, but it was no show stopper. Just a little interesting, that's all.</div>
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And there's another rock I love on the same trail (see the picture at the top right corner of my blog page) with a cut-out heart shape in the rock. It's not too large, and it's easy to pick up. But that rock belongs in the woods. I would never take it. I love how the seasons frame it beautifully as it rests upon the ground, seemingly unchanging. It's a reminder of all the joys that can be found in nature. </div>
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But last weekend I passed the site of both of those rocks, and they were GONE! The cut-out heart rock had been lifted up from the ground and taken. Whereas the larger one had been hacked at and crudely dug up . . . evidence being that shards of the rock were sitting in the fresh hole. For some reason this really bothered me. I felt personally invaded. The things I had grown used to seeing and expected to be there were carted off in the blink of an eye. </div>
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On another day I decided to see if the rocks had been discarded off to the side, so I looked around in the woods near the area. While I never found the cut-out heart rock, I did discover something special about the larger one: First, I went to the large hole and rummaged through the fine shards. And to my surprise I found a heart rock with a crystal band running through it (see the picture above). While the person was hacking away at the rock, a quarter sized heart rock had formed (and been left behind unnoticed!). How cool! Then, a few feet away by the edge of the trail, I noticed two large remainder rocks, which were part of the large one, that had obviously been tossed aside. I looked at the rock chunks and immediately saw two hearts within them (see picture below). Suddenly I heard my message loud and clear . . . </div>
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Like a parallel in my life lately, the large rock literally had to be broken open and removed from a comfortable place of rest in order to experience the true beauty that lays just on the other side of complacency, apathy, and "good enough". There are some things I've held on to for too long, afraid that by facing the pain of releasing all that junk, it might be worse than simply holding tight to it. But over the past few years, I've slowly allowed myself to be broken open--actually it's more like I started with a crack here and there before I surrendered to the renewing and cleansing act of being truly broken open. I still surrender daily to God what doesn't work for me with the belief that God's plans are so much better for me than the plans I had fabricated. My plans included the beliefs that a certain person or thing would satisfy me, not to mention all the "stuff" I thought I needed to be fulfilled. Also, being broken open releases me from my old patterns of behavior and patterns of interacting with people that were not helping me to fulfill my purpose. It's scary to offer up ourselves to metaphorically be hammered at, or pick-axed at, or dug up from the comfy, soft earth we have positioned ourselves in. But then when would true beauty be discovered? Beauty will always be found through the humble act of being broken, experiencing the dark night of the soul, and having the courage to come through it, knowing you are not alone. God is the Creator, Breaker, and Restorer.</div>
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It is so!</div>
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312003894020198514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg48UFthJrlahxzLaVtcdKNOUUH1rkSeUTRMng2UVbIIcruA52t31Abg69falmQB6Q9RuD3rfzi6q_-JMkdDCmyi-XYAFiOeOm7XUFfn2BbVhxjsIo6QiLD3IXSG9Ll8ULjhSAasSrbffyP/s200/DSC02948.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 198px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /> <br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-size: 180%;">"Even a <em><strong>STONE</strong> </em>. . . could show you the way back to GOD, to the SOURCE, to YOURSELF."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099;"><span style="color: #ffcc66;"><span style="font-size: 85%;">Eckhart Tolle, <em>The Power of Now</em></span></span></span></div>
Jenna Lovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03768923532900785857noreply@blogger.com2