Morning Blessing

Light filters through crosshatched branches, day dawns anew, 

in stillness I pause.

Glass, screen and grime on the outside of this high window,

separate me from the trees and sky.

But nothing comes between this moment of awareness, 

my heart sighing, "Thank You Holy One."

For more poems visit:

One Shot Wednesday

and for words of praise and blessing visit:

Gratitude for Freedom

The Butterfly 

The last, the very last
So richly, brightly
dazzling yellow.
Perhaps if the sun's tears
could sing against a white stone.

For seven weeks I've lived in here,
penned up inside this ghetto.
But I have found my people here.
The dandelions call to me and
the white chestnut candles in the court.
Only I never saw another butterfly.

The last, the very last.
So richly, brightly
dazzling yellow.
Perhaps if the sun's tears
could sing against a white stone.

Such, such a yellow
is carried lightly way up high.
It went away I'm sure
because it wished to
kiss the world good-bye.

The last, the very last.
So richly, brightly
dazzling yellow.
Perhaps if the sun's tears
could sing against a white stone.

That butterfly was the last one.
Butterflies don't live in here.

The poem above was written by Pavel Friedman on June 4, 1942. He was born in Prague on January 7, 1921, deported to Terezin Concentration camp in April of 1942 then eventually to Auschwitz where he died on September 29, 1944. 

His life ended at same time (age wise) as the second half of mine began (I’ll be 46 in March 2011) Pavel was only 23 years old. I was married on June 4, 1988…I was 23 years old.

This poem has touched my heart since I was a little girl and would borrow the collection of poems, I Never Saw Another Butterfly, written by children forced to exist in Terezin concentration camp, from our synagogue library. They haunted me, inspired me, guided me to appreciate life, each precious moment.

When I saw a link to Trudi's blog on Sharmon's and Caterina's, I decided to participate in the Butterfly Project and asked my girls if they would too. The museum is collecting 1.5 million butterflies for an exhibit that will open in 2013, each butterfly represents one child who perished during the Holocaust. Over Thanksgiving weekend, we created our butterflies. It felt like an appropriate weekend for the project.

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I struggled and struggled, becoming more and more frustrated trying to draw a shape I liked and then cutting it out. Next poking small holes into the three layers of paper, threading my big eye beading needle and tiny glass beads through the needle and then the holes to embellish my butterfly. I had to keep reminding myself to breathe, relax...but my mind kept saying "This should be easy, this is a simple task for you!"  I got caught up in a drama of my own mind's making. 

Later in the week when I spoke to my physical therapist about my frustration at performing a task that used to be a joy for me, he did a simple test with my eyes, having me follow his finger as he moved it and I moved my eyes. He detected a slight lag in my left eye, the one that had been partially paralyzed and led to my MS diagnoses over a year ago now. My Dad checked it out too a of couple days ago. He saw the same thing. NO WONDER it is so hard for me to collage, draw, bead, create with my hands the way I used to. I was blaming it on my lack of energy or even some kind of laziness on my part. I didn't understand my body's wisdom to avoid these beloved activities.  And yet I have not done much art work with my hands over the past two years. A few small projects here and there. The truth is, my EYES are different now and my hands cannot coordinate with them through space the way they did in the past. This is sad for me. I loved "making art" and was always busy creating with my hands, ever since I was the little girl who loved the poem above. The myelin that should be covering the neurons that tell my left eye how quickly to move in tandem with my right eye will likely NOT regenerate any more at this point. This is how it is. 

And so...I am gifted with a love for and ability to still see and capture images through photography. It is a different creative process, but I am free to explore the view through my camera and collect all the butterflies, trees, faces, sunsets and sunrises, buildings transforming through time and weather, and reflections upon water and glass, whenever I am looking through the windows of my comfortable house or out in our car as a passenger. I am free. I am alive. I am here. My suffering is insignificant, a grain of sand to what these children, their parents and grandparents were forced to experience. I pray that my butterfly, and the ones my daughters made with compassionate intention, will serve to honor the memories of Pavel, and the 1.5 million other children who perished during the Holocaust. Children who never had a chance to marry and have children of their own, yet who appreciated precious moments while they still could catch glimpses within the confines of the camps and the horrendous conditions of their short lives.

Laura's photo, stitched and beaded butterfly

My butterfly offering is formed from a photo of a window with reflections of leaves; transformation from one season to another. It is beaded and stitched onto bright paper...sky colors...freedom colors.

Rosewillow's felted butterfly

Rosewillow's butterfly was felted with bright wool onto the remnants of a piece of old denim from worn out jeans.

Belin's collaged butterfly

Belin's butterfly contribution is a collage of National Geographic articles giving reports of the war from that time. (I have a lot of old wonderful old magazines from when I collaged and facilitated SoulCollage workshops!)

I LOVE the butterflies my girls created...each as unique as my daughters...and you know, I kind of like mine too now.

Thank you Trudi for collecting these butterflies...I hope my blog post will add to the "Butterfly Effect" and entice others to join in too!


You can send your butterflies directly to the Holocaust Museum Houston
or to Trudi @   Two Dresses Studio.

Ours will be on their way soon!
Gentle Steps,
Laura

PS. As I finish editing this post, I can hear the most beautiful ethereal music outside my window...an owl has come to visit our woods again.

There is Nothing So Whole

"stone heart in orah's window"

“There is nothing so whole as a broken heart.”

~ the Kotzker Rebbe

My friend Cheryl, asked me about this quote that has been on my blog for a long time. She wrote to me, "Now that not only intrigues me... it's beckoning me... Divinely Daring me to extract it's Medicine...and infuse it within every layer of my being.  What's been your experience with the Truth of this quote?" I quite understand what she means, as this wise Rebbe's teaching has always resonated for me. "How can brokenness make one more whole?" you might be wondering. I can only speak from my own experience. Brokenness allows me to fall more fully into Presence, Spirit, God, Beingness. For me, suffering has been an invitation to feel what ever I am feeling in the moment, completely. When I allow myself this gift instead of pushing away my emotions, hiding from myself, my fears, my pain, I begin to turn toward my own broken heart, mind, body with compassion, with lovingkindness that is pure, non-judgmental, free from the limits of "supposed to's," "should have's," and "if only's." Healing for me is not about "fixing" my brokenness or anyone else's.  Instead, it is about relaxing, releasing into the Container that is large enough to hold everything; the ease, the joy, the comfort, the anger, the sadness, disappointment, longing, grieving, grumbling, laughter, sorrow, suffering, peace, humility, humanity...all of it...the wholeness, the holiness, the wHolyness, of who I am, of who we all are. Nancy had a lovely Spiritual Direction awareness on my behalf (or perhaps it was meant for both of us?) about exactly this early this past week, when we sat together in companionable silence, so it is still quite fresh and filled with vitality for me. (Thank YOU Nancy ♥)

The Torah teaches that Moses came down from Mt Sinai, with a precious gift. While he was up on the mountain communing with God and receiving the 10 commandments, the people below were busy melting down jewelry to make an idol to pray to. They had lost their faith, they were frightened, they were tired, they just weren't having the same kinds of interactions with God that Moses was, or at least they didn't recognize God's Presence in the way that he did. They didn't get the whole "God is not visible, but a felt Presence" thing... "God is not a noun but a verb", yet. It wasn't the culture they grew up in as slaves, they weren't ready. In his very human disappointment, Moses smashed the first set of God inscribed tablets on the ground. God instructed him to climb back up the mountain again to receive  a new set of tablets. Some say that because of this act of judgment upon his own people who had already suffered so much, Moses was not allowed to cross into the holy land. One could argue that while God (in this part of the story) was not very compassionate toward Moses, God was compassionate toward the people. Then again, perhaps this was the most profound teaching of Moses' life, and in that way it was compassionate  indeed, because it gave him an opportunity to expand his heart. We humans are prone to losing faith when things aren't going the way we want them to. We humans have a tendency to react in anger when we are surprised, disappointed, hurt or frightened. We humans must continually remember to live with compassionate hearts, broken, yes, but still, compassionate hearts. 

There is a midrash, a teaching story, which says basically that throughout the 40 years of wandering through the wilderness, the Israelites carried not just the set of whole stone tablets (the Ten Commandments), but the broken set as well, in the mishkan (the portable ark). Why did they do this? To remind them that the broken fragments were every bit as holy (wHoly) as the unbroken tablets. Both sets were inscribed, infused with God's own intentions and energy. The same is true for all of us. Like the broken tablets, we humans, in all of our brokenness, are imbued with God's wHoliness. Being broken allows for more Light to flow in and out of the "cracks" in our hearts; a lesson in loving ourselves exactly as we are, moment by moment, breath by breath...even during those moments our inner critics might consider us to be unlovable.  Even during those breaths we hold tight in our lungs in anxiety before we remember (or our lungs force us) to let go already and exhale. As we remember, learn and relearn this lesson, we continue the process of accepting our humanity with humility, while experiencing our Divinity, our wHoliness all at the same time.

In my life, I have found that the more "broken" I am, the more capable I am of compassion toward myself and ultimately other beings as well. Am I kind and thoughtful in all moments? No. Do I get angry and frustrated when things don't go my way? Yes!  I may not get to that place of acceptance immediately, but I can see that I have been thrown off course better now than I could in the past. I can wind (or unwind) my way back to center with clear awareness that that's what I need to do and start doing so more quickly than I used to, without getting mired in my own drama and pain for an extended period of time. And the more I practice this unconditional acceptance of "what ever shows up" in the moment, the more skillful I become at returning to my core, my wHoly broken heart, with tenderness. What the Kotzker Rebbe is saying to me is this: "Your broken pieces, your broken heart, opens you to all the possible facets of what it is to be fully, completely, human...AND God dwells within you/me. Therefore what could be more whole, wHoly, complete than being me, a faulty, broken human?

The word for peace in Hebrew shalom, shares the same root as the word whole, shalem. In those brief and fleeting breaths during which we are "ok"  (I am "ok") with our pieces, "the fine" and "the NOT fine" aspects of our life experiences, we soften into peace. When we feel peace, we recognize our wholeness. And Holiness flows through us. For me Cheryl, that is the "medicine...the truth" of the this quote. I am not a rabbi, I am not a scholar,  but this is my interpretation of this deep teaching. 

gentle steps,

Laura

Please take some time today and treat yourself to some wonderful black and white photos and shadows of mystery from all around the world!

I'm BACK: Beginning Again

Isn't that always how it is? Beginning again and again...what a blessing to know, to trust, that we can  begin again. Of course that means we must release other things, other dreams, other ways of doing and being, old conceptions, misconceptions all to make room for new growth, allowing for more space, more light to shine through. And this somehow reminds me of trees, (it always comes back to trees, for me...) and their deep roots...trunks grow thick, wide and tall...branches spread...buds blossom...leaves develop...they turn and change color...they drop exposing the bones of the tree...yet far below the surface the roots are continuously seeking nutrients for growth...growth that continues.

bare bones heart, kancamagus hwy, nh november 2010

I took a photo of this same tree last summer and was delighted to find it again when Gordon and I took a short trip to the White Mountains the weekend before Thanksgiving; two quiet days and nights without the kids, the cats, the dog. These mountains have always felt incredibly holy to me. They feel like home. Not like "house-home," or "family-home," but when I am up there, I feel like I am at home within mySelf. One of my favorite names for God in Hebrew is haMakom, the Place. I guess that's what I'm trying to say. I feel God's Presence...I know that I am in haMakom and haMakom is within me when I am surrounded by the majesty of these glorious mountains. Not that I don't have the same feeling at other times or in other spaces, but there is just something about the White Mountains that expands my heart and opens me to Spirit the moment I see the landscape rise to the first peaks that greet us from the highway as we begin our ascent.

I was thrilled to see that the structure of the tree was the same, that the heart was still visible without the leaves filling it out. Yes, vrksasana is still my favorite yoga/life pose!

This blog is quite often like the tree above, or rather, the way I present myself here is. I offer my bare bones heart up to anyone who passes by. My heart is open; light, rain, snow, mist, darkness all are visible through my writing and photos. For me this is a healing practice, this honest way of being  and expressing my wholeness to the world. It is risky, of course to expose one's heart in this way, and yet what I have found is that my transparency has created a sacred space where others feel safe and free to speak from their own hearts either in comments directly on this blog or through private emails. To me the risk of being truly seen is well worth the beauty that pours back to me from all of you, a flowing river of love. It is a privilege, an honor, a gift; thank you for your trust.

During the past month of amazing posts from the many guests who have graced this blog with their wise and grateful hearts, I have been working hard at relearning to walk in physical therapy, strengthening my muscles and retraining my neurons. Almost literally re-Membering, so that I can begin again to move with more ease. We are still trying to determine the cause for my downslide in abilities since August. The working theory at the moment is that one of the medications I have been on for more than a year is creating a toxic reaction in my body (and not the BIG scary one either!) We will be more certain in a couple of weeks as the medicine is gradually weaned from my system. I am hopeful that this is the case, of course, as it is a pretty easy fix, but I am not clinging to hope. Therefore, I am simultaneously practicing the art of being with what is. Right now I still need a walker for stability,  but not all the time. I am thankful that I am not falling down every few foot steps as I had been a month ago when "mr. walker" moved into our home. I cannot walk very far before fatigue sets in and I do still need a wheelchair or to be carried in order to get to a  "destination" beyond whatever the fatigue point of the moment happens to be. Yesterday for the first time in a over a month I walked down a full flight of stairs and later in the day  after pt, back up very slowly. Going down the second time to light Chanukah candles was slower still and back up was labored and on my tush, powering myself up with my arms...but I  made it to the top and Gordon helped me stand and get to the bed to rest a bit. On Monday I could only master three  stairs up and three down. This is progress, wonderful progress. Yet, my body still has very real limitations. This morning, dare devil that I am, I tried to get up out of bed without my walker, took two steps and "bam," found myself down on the floor looking up. This is the bare bones truth of my physical experience right now. Perhaps I pushed myself too far yesterday in my joy for being able to accomplish more, and today's morning tumble is a result of that. This is such a mysterious disease. I am starting to see gradual changes and I pray that more of my strength, energy, balance and coordination will return. I will be ever so grateful if this is so, but if not, if I plateau or deteriorate again soon, then I, (my family and I) will continue to find new ways of doing things, spreading our creative wings, opening our hearts to new possibilities for making our home more accessible so that I can be downstairs with my family and have more independence, and everyone else can too! I'm not loving this princess in the bedroom treatment anymore that the rest of the family, truly!

Another thing I've been working on throughout the month of November is my website. I was planning to re-launch an updated version on December 1st to more accurately depict services I now offer from home as a Kaizen-Muse® Creativity Coach, Spiritual Director and Lev b'Lev SoulCollage® Guide, but we've had some technical difficulties, including chipmunk back-up singers throughout a guided healing meditation podcast that needed to be EQ'd out of the recording, and a few other minor but annoying tech issues. I have complete confidence in my CTO (Gordon) to have it all working smoothly soon. I'll let you know as soon as it is up and running. 

We are very excited that my parents will be here visiting from Florida for the next few days during Chanukah, so expect my blog to be quiet for their stay, while we enjoy our special time together.

I cannot thank all of you, my faithful readers, enough for your beautiful comments. I'm sorry that I cannot respond to everyone, with every message. Just know that I read them all and appreciate your compassion from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet. YOUR words heal me as much as the practice of sharing my own with you!!!

gentle steps,

♥ Laura

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You might also want to check out Imperfect Prose, where bloggers recognize the cracks in our broken hearts are blessings that allow light and healing to flow!

Emerging

emerging soft light

 sacred space we've created

my head bowed in thanks

with an open heart
stepping gently into view
I whisper, "I'm here"

Chag Orim Sameach

May the festival of lights that begins tonight be filled with joy!