Wednesday Wish (50)

When night rests her dark sleeves upon the colors of my island home, I cuddle in tight to watch her show. She isn’t picky, she treats the flowers the same as the trees, the sky the same as the bees, but me? I am. I like best to watch the trees.

Three are pine, one is cedar, and I think there’s a maple or two. And through my window, as I lay in bed, they tell me secrets as the mistress of night slowly softens and mutes, whispering like a mystery, inviting my eyes, yes, my eyes…. to hear.

Green is the obvious one. But have you listened to her today? Oh yes? So what does she say? Maybe she told you that the seasons are changing. Or that she needed more water, that her roots were thirsty. But then, what says your heart? Do you let the green of your trees speak to you there? For you know, the whispers of green are secrets for your heart. Your heart. Not just mine.

And have you seen the blues and the purples as you weave your thread to sleep? What? you say. On a tree? Can you sense my smile and the happy nod I make? Blues so deep and purples so rich you are bound to speak. Of the things you wish you said or the things you wish you heard. Of your day, or your tomorrows--words, voice, music from a hidden soul that always wished to speak. Do you hear the invitations from the blues in the trees? They are there. I see them nearly every night. I hear them with my eyes.

And did you see a swash of orange tonight? Or was it more pink instead? A warmth reflected to your eyes. And did you, oh dear friend of mine, did you dare to catch your breath? When it coursed through your veins like a solvent for your soul, did you let it melt you, touch you, remind you of what you thought you had long ago forgotten?

…that you are a sensual being with abilities beyond your brain, that you can hear with your eyes and taste with your soul and that color is a gift for your sensual Self...even as night falls on a few chosen trees....

Wednesday Wish (49)

There she was, rocking slowly in the moonlight, her stockinged feet kneading the porch planks like she hadn’t ever done it before. But she had. Every night for fifty some-odd years. It was her ointment, she told me, a balm she used for soothin’ her soul. For soothin’ her soul? I smiled half-like, not really understanding her all the way. That’s when she clarified. “Because I had my blank message, that is,” her eyes sparkling like a Carolina star. My smile stayed stuck. And she noticed. Ms. Dorothy noticed everything. That’s when she took her hands out of her apron and put one on my knee and said, “Here darlin’, listen right hard. I have somethin’ important to tell you now, ok?” 

           

*          *          *

It was late at night. The children were in bed, her husband was still at work and the cat, he purred in her lap, the two of them reveling in the warmth of the fire.

            “Shall we go to bed then, Avery?” she asked the cat. And not a second later came a knock on the door. “Well who in heaven’s name might that be?” she said right quick. “Am I dreamin’?”

But there it was again. A nice knock but still, a very late knock. Dorothy set Avery down and slipped her feet into her shoes, leather pumps from Belk’s.

            “Comin!” she yelled.

            His face was kind, she reminisced to me. Kind in the way faces with lots of wrinkles tend to be. But it was his eyes that she remembered best. Yes, his eyes.

            “Can I help you?” she asked the stranger.

            “I don’t think so,” he said.

            Dorothy humpfed. “Well then, what are you doin’ on my porch so late at night?”

            “I came to give you this,” he outstretched his hand with a dandelion puff.

            Dorothy didn’t know what to say so she did the polite thing and said, “Why, thank you.”

            “You know what it is, don’t you?”

            “Well, call Aunt Ginny Uncle John, of course I know a dead dandelion when I see one.”

            But the old man shook his head. “You don’t know, do you?”

            “Don’t know what? Your name? Yes, you’re right. I know I don’t know that.”

            “It’s David. And that there,” he nodded toward her, “is a message.”

            Dorothy gave him her second humpf of the night. “A message? Are you tellin’ me I need to cut my lawn? Well, I never...”

            “No, ma’am,” said old man David. “I brought you a message, and not just any old message, a blank one.”

            “And what pray God, is a blank message?”

            Old man David cleared his throat. “It’s a message for you to make into anything you’d like. Whatever you need, whatever you want to hear, whatever you long for, that’s what it is. It’s blank but it sure isn't empty. And it’s just for you.”

            Right then and there on her front porch, Dorothy saw old man David’s eyes for the first and last time. They were lit from within and echoed his soul. Looking back she didn’t know how she knew what she did, but deep inside, she just did. It was the God to honest truth. His eyes echoed his soul.

            “Would you like a cup of tea?” she said gently.

            “Why no, thank you, I must be goin’ now. You see, it’s gettin’ late and I have a lot more work to do.”

            She reached out to shake his hand but at the last second thought better of it and leaned in to give him a hug instead.

            They embraced like old friends.

            “Thank you, David.”

            “It’s my pleasure. Just passin’ the torch. Passin’ the torch to a woman who is more than deserving.” And just like that, he shared a happy chuckle and turned down the stairs.

*          *          *

The Wednesday Wish this week is a blank message for you, one that you get to squish and squeeze and poke and knead into anything at all that you desire. Do you need to be reminded that you are truly beautiful? Have you forgotten that you are loved? And what about the difficult day you just had? Did you forget to praise yourself on handling it all so well? Do you need a little compassion for fudging on your diet and eating what you weren’t supposed to? Or what about a compliment? Do you need one of those? For we all do sometimes. Your blank message is a reminder that whatever you need, is yours for the taking. If you can imagine it, it will be….and like Dorothy, you might just find your blank message to be a delightful little balm for soothing your precious soul.

Wednesday Wish (48)

On a quiet side street of my island home there are dandelions and tall, weedy grasses and a tiny creek that dances over bits of stone. It makes me happy to walk along this street, my senses open, my heart oh, so wide. I like to see the things that no one else notices, to give them my attention and to feel them plump up when I do. Like the tuft of grass in the middle of the street. 

I love him. I don’t know how he happened, but there, suddenly, in the middle of pure asphalt, is mister tuft of happy green grass. When neighboring lawns turn brown and coarse, he doesn’t. Here it is late summer and still he’s his sweet self of lush green.

And then there is the Stop sign tucked behind the tree that so few can ever see unless they get under the tree like I did. What color is the Stop sign, I asked my little girl. And now I ask you…what color is the Stop sign? Is she really red? Or is she something more? Is she also white…with maybe a little bit of tree juice mixed in there, too? What color is your Stop sign, the one nearest to your home? She's not just red even if 99% of us say it is so. For we forget to really see. To see the letters, to see the happenings, to see the life of something we stop beside every single day.

When we take the risk, because it is indeed a risk, to look closer and closer, the things around us begin to change. You see, it takes a certain bravery to wait and just look when the rest of the world is in such a hurry. But when we do, when we soften enough to step outside of our self-centeredness, we open ourselves up to a realm of wonder where we are a part of something larger. That place where we connect not just with a person or a people, but with the things around us too, that place, it emerges. The You in you and the Me in me…walk into the light to guide us home. We are steered back to our center.

And all because we took the time to give our attention to something.

A patch of grass

A Stop sign

Anything that finds its way into your path

Is your sacred ticket

To You.

Wednesday Wish (47)

photo by dolfi via Flickr

He walked slowly with no destination, his feet taking him for a ride. Or was it his nose? Or his ears? Or his eyes? For his senses were certainly awake.

When she saw him, her hand reached for her daughter’s to pull her away, leading them both to the car with whispers paving their way.

When a woman on her power walk saw him, she u-turned around. And made a phone call while looking back behind her, her eyes aflame with piercing fear.

A dog walking his owner saw him then too, and lept over to share a good sniff. But when our friend reached down to pat the sweet dog, his owner pulled his leash away.

I watched. And while I understood….I also, understood.

He probably hadn’t had a shower in a few days and his jeans were smudged with dirt. His shirt barely covered his belly, he wasn’t clean-shaven, and he walked a lot slower than anyone else around. He noticed the trees. He shuddered with the breeze. He raised his nose to take in scents and lowered his head to see what his feet had found. His fingers trilled the air. His eyes explored, and while his presence gave most fear, it gave me tenderness. He was highly sensitive and had battles with his mind. Didn't he need love just as much as the rest of us?

A dandelion. The color was perfect. Somehow I knew he’d like yellow.

So I picked it.

For him.

No words,

just a smile

And my arm outstretched

with a flower.

He sat down with his back against a tree and smiled at his flower, his eyes watering with happy. We nodded our heads and as I turned to leave he shared a 'thank you'.  'Of course', I said, my heart alive with tenderness--his gift of love to me.

*          *          *

We all need love.

How will you share your love this week?