"You are welcome here!" Pamela Wilson
Pamela is the queen of welcoming. In her presence, it’s easy to welcome whoever and whatever arrives.
“I feel lonely,” I say. Her shining eyes light up even more. “Who else is loneliness going to sit with except you?” And, “Maybe loneliness is lonely for You....”
She likes to interview these notions that come to visit. “What do you want?” she asks. “Who are you really? Would you show me your true nature?” Or, “Can you see the vastness behind the loneliness?”
This morning, as is the habit of this body/mind, I woke with Worry-Planning in full gear. “Hit the floor running” was a family value. I recall clearly the clang of a metal utensil on the steam pipe that ran upstairs into my bedroom in my childhood home. This was the alarm clock my father devised. I was to jump out of bed and stomp on the icy cold linoleum floor to let them know I was alert, up, and hitting the floor running. From the age of eight, I had one or two dozen lambs to bottle feed and give hay and water to before the school bus came at 7:30. Developing automatic habits of planning was my way of getting the job done on time.
I don’t regret those early morning chores, even when it was bitterly cold. We lived far enough from the influence of lights to see the stars clearly. The Milky Way was a dense band of white. In the winter, the stillness was a balm to the rush to getting the bottles ready. Later in the year and in the summer, the dawn was a favorite time. I rarely slept past the sun coming up over the ridge even when I had the luxury to do so. I suppose I was still attuned to the vastness behind the planning, and that the sky and quiet were precious reminders.
This morning, instead of activating my habitual resistance to this worry-planning pest, I found myself welcoming. “You are welcome here! What would you like, what is it you want?” Not surprisingly, the answer is, “To be sure of engaging fully in Life.”
Who can fault that wish? With the seeing of this, I relax, and the vastness behind the apparent obscuration shows itself naturally.
Pamela reminds us that seeing your true nature is simply being natural. Honey, her dog companion, models naturalness for us.
As I type this, Oh-Oh, who knows much about engaging naturally and fully in Life, has come to offer the conclusive words on the subject, “dfvcccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc-ccccccccccccccccccccccccb.”
“I feel lonely,” I say. Her shining eyes light up even more. “Who else is loneliness going to sit with except you?” And, “Maybe loneliness is lonely for You....”
She likes to interview these notions that come to visit. “What do you want?” she asks. “Who are you really? Would you show me your true nature?” Or, “Can you see the vastness behind the loneliness?”
This morning, as is the habit of this body/mind, I woke with Worry-Planning in full gear. “Hit the floor running” was a family value. I recall clearly the clang of a metal utensil on the steam pipe that ran upstairs into my bedroom in my childhood home. This was the alarm clock my father devised. I was to jump out of bed and stomp on the icy cold linoleum floor to let them know I was alert, up, and hitting the floor running. From the age of eight, I had one or two dozen lambs to bottle feed and give hay and water to before the school bus came at 7:30. Developing automatic habits of planning was my way of getting the job done on time.
I don’t regret those early morning chores, even when it was bitterly cold. We lived far enough from the influence of lights to see the stars clearly. The Milky Way was a dense band of white. In the winter, the stillness was a balm to the rush to getting the bottles ready. Later in the year and in the summer, the dawn was a favorite time. I rarely slept past the sun coming up over the ridge even when I had the luxury to do so. I suppose I was still attuned to the vastness behind the planning, and that the sky and quiet were precious reminders.
This morning, instead of activating my habitual resistance to this worry-planning pest, I found myself welcoming. “You are welcome here! What would you like, what is it you want?” Not surprisingly, the answer is, “To be sure of engaging fully in Life.”
Who can fault that wish? With the seeing of this, I relax, and the vastness behind the apparent obscuration shows itself naturally.
Pamela reminds us that seeing your true nature is simply being natural. Honey, her dog companion, models naturalness for us.
As I type this, Oh-Oh, who knows much about engaging naturally and fully in Life, has come to offer the conclusive words on the subject, “dfvcccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc-ccccccccccccccccccccccccb.”
posted by Forgive the Dream at 8:08 AM
2 Comments:
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every day is a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness
comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He or she may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the
malice,
meet them at the door, laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes
because
each has been sent as a guide from
beyond.
The images in this poem by Rumi make the welcoming easier for me, especially on a day like this one, when I am SO impatient with myself for losing track of a magazine article I need.
Thanks for writing. Your words always spark something in me.
WOW I was very moved and delighted and oh -- to see your work so elegantly displayed -- beautiful reflections on a mirroring surface.
Have not read everything but almost
Love Colleen
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