Sunday Musings – May 19, 2019
I laid in bed for an extra 20 minutes this morning just listening to the quiet. I am blessed to be in a place which, although close to town, has a large wooded area behind my house. With the windows closed I cannot hear the highway traffic. Often the deer and other animals roam through the yard. So far this year they have not feasted on my flowers, shrubs or herbs. I am aware, in the early morning light, of seemingly thousands of shades of green which are all part of the ecological wonder. This reminds me of the fact that each of us humans are a unique part of the whole. We have only to claim that birthright. If we are lucky enough to move beyond basic survival in a war zone, in a refugee camp, or in a family which has been kidnapped by addiction or some other “disease” we may claim the false luxury of contemplating our navel or installing the latest security system to protect those treasure or evidence that we have more than our share of stuff. Less it appear that I am excluding myself, I am “privileged” to daily have the time to examine and write about my the contemplation of my navel. Of course, I “know” that I merely have to be as present as the rocks forming the border for the garden and each of the plants and the insects which work so hard, often sight unseen. Yet, being human and not a rock, plant or an insect, I get off center very easily. Whether using a paper towel, plastic wrap, purchasing something on line which I do not need and which arrives in a plastic bag or other non-biodegradable wrap, or, without thinking, I begin to use a plastic straw I leave the essence of whom I am on the shelf while I construct this costumed facsimile of being instead of being. This fools no one, least of all me.
Today is Sunday, which in the tradition in which I was raised, is the sabbath. Every religious or spiritual tradition has a day and some several times every day when one stops and attempts to be nakedly present; to practice a dress rehearsal for letting go of this life journey and returning to pure energy. Some use words or other sounds to cleanse oneself. Some have decided that the universe needs direction and, thus, recite, long winded ritualic prayers. These prayers are not to be confused with the outpouring of anguish and trusting joy which one might find in the religious services of some of the oppressed.
Sometime some of us sit quietly allowing the thousand shades of green to draw us into a moment of eternity; a moment of osmosis. For a brief time we put aside the questioning, wandering mind, the chores engendered by our privilege, and the attempts to create a poem rather than welcoming the poem which we already are.
Written May 19, 2019
Jimmy F Pickett
Coachpickett.org
I laid in bed for an extra 20 minutes this morning just listening to the quiet. I am blessed to be in a place which, although close to town, has a large wooded area behind my house. With the windows closed I cannot hear the highway traffic. Often the deer and other animals roam through the yard. So far this year they have not feasted on my flowers, shrubs or herbs. I am aware, in the early morning light, of seemingly thousands of shades of green which are all part of the ecological wonder. This reminds me of the fact that each of us humans are a unique part of the whole. We have only to claim that birthright. If we are lucky enough to move beyond basic survival in a war zone, in a refugee camp, or in a family which has been kidnapped by addiction or some other “disease” we may claim the false luxury of contemplating our navel or installing the latest security system to protect those treasure or evidence that we have more than our share of stuff. Less it appear that I am excluding myself, I am “privileged” to daily have the time to examine and write about my the contemplation of my navel. Of course, I “know” that I merely have to be as present as the rocks forming the border for the garden and each of the plants and the insects which work so hard, often sight unseen. Yet, being human and not a rock, plant or an insect, I get off center very easily. Whether using a paper towel, plastic wrap, purchasing something on line which I do not need and which arrives in a plastic bag or other non-biodegradable wrap, or, without thinking, I begin to use a plastic straw I leave the essence of whom I am on the shelf while I construct this costumed facsimile of being instead of being. This fools no one, least of all me.
Today is Sunday, which in the tradition in which I was raised, is the sabbath. Every religious or spiritual tradition has a day and some several times every day when one stops and attempts to be nakedly present; to practice a dress rehearsal for letting go of this life journey and returning to pure energy. Some use words or other sounds to cleanse oneself. Some have decided that the universe needs direction and, thus, recite, long winded ritualic prayers. These prayers are not to be confused with the outpouring of anguish and trusting joy which one might find in the religious services of some of the oppressed.
Sometime some of us sit quietly allowing the thousand shades of green to draw us into a moment of eternity; a moment of osmosis. For a brief time we put aside the questioning, wandering mind, the chores engendered by our privilege, and the attempts to create a poem rather than welcoming the poem which we already are.
Written May 19, 2019
Jimmy F Pickett
Coachpickett.org
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