Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Wednesday Wish (78); Quiet Enough to Hear


Dandelion Wishes
photo by angelia0527 via flickr

I stopped on the side of the road to pick a dandelion puff for my little girl. 

She needed a wish. 

And I was quiet enough to hear, 
eager enough to listen,
slow enough to take the time.

And when I did, we saw a dog who lived beside a sad house. He had a leash, but it was too short for the aches inside his heart. He told us so because we listened to his heart speak. So we comforted him, and his barking stopped.

While we spoke to the dog, a carload of teenagers drove toward us at high speed. I looked up before they reached us, already sensing the darkness they were leaving in their wake. I raised my arms like a question, leaning my head to the side. I invited their answer to ‘why?” with love.

The teenage driver softened his self-centeredness and slowed down, missing, by mere inches, a taxi around the corner, an older man who had stopped to drop off a client. The taxi driver grasped his heart in relief. And smiled at me.

He lit a cigarette to calm down—from the scare, from the rest of his day, from things that brought him stress. I smiled at him and asked him if he was ok. He began to tell me about his life and all the things he had seen. 

He needed to speak, to be heard, so I
honored his needs...

my daughter still blowing dandelion wishes, 
a doggie on a short leash finding the connection of care, 
and my own heart touched beyond words.

A moment becomes magic when we dare to leave our self-centeredness to listen to the beauty and the suffering around us, when we listen and watch and wait with largeness of heart. And when we do, we see the world speaks and it sparkles and it is more alive with magic…and love…than dull eyes could ever even imagine.


*          *          *

Quiet yourself enough to hear.
Be then, affected.
And honor what you hear.

Let yourself be touched by everything
... everything … 
around you. 

For when you do, you cannot help but be 

widened,
deepened, 
touched 

by the true magic of life.


8 comments:

  1. Honestly, this is the most touching piece of writing. Thank you so much for sharing your talent for putting into words the things that are most important, and thank you too for reaching out to strangers and seeing their need rather than being irritated and defensive toward them. You helped that person become better and happier because you took the time to really be aware of him. And by doing that, you helped countless other people who will cross his path in the future. This story gives me goosebumps!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I am so touched that you felt it so deeply, dear Katherine. Your heart-speak means soo much to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you:)

      Delete
  2. "already sensing the darkness they were leaving in their wake. I raised my arms like a question, leaning my head to the side. I invited their answer to ‘why?” with love."

    Why indeed. A moment of thoughtfulness on the writer's part saved lives - not just the taxista but the teens in that car. I hope they felt touched, too. A column full of love... and said so well.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, my dear friend. It's as if you were there with me, having the same reaction I did. What a wonderfully caring, empathetic friend. Thank you:)

      Delete
  3. We affect so many every day. I now try my best to choose to have the best intentions when encountering others. It always seems to lighten the " darkness" for all parties :). Thanks for always sharing your light with everyone you encounter.
    Namaste!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's really true... 'we (do) affect so many every day', Tim. That's such a great reminder...and an invitation to ourselves to choose to surround ourselves with kind and loving people:) Thank you, my friend, for your wise, reflective words.

      Delete
  4. Brynne, so lovely. You're a breath of fresh air.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Monika! What a lovely breath of fresh air *you* are! Thank you for the heart flowers:)

      Delete