Suleika, what a beautiful way you’ve found for moving forward through uncertainty. By sharing what you’re going through, your fears and hopes and lessons, you are shining a light for so many of us, as well. I think looking for sweetness is powerful and will manifest in untold ways. In the spirit of your message, I’m going to look to the not-so-wild animal I just encountered on my back deck when I let him in from peeing in the yard at 5:30 am. My sweet old Collie-Shepherd mix, Chase, whose hind legs are weakened by arthritis, whose hearing is diminished and whose eyesight is clouded by age. He still enjoys treats, his neighborhood walks, lying in the sun, and scratches behind his soft ears. Simple joys with the people he loves. I’m going to follow his lead and be more present to those gifts. Happy New Year to you and your pack. Xo
Hello . Thank you Suleika for sharing you. And I love your friend's new years day ritual with the first animal. And sharing yours about sweetness. And I love this " As the poet Rilke says, “Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”
I go through all of my changing medical issues with not knowing an not making plans. And after the writing challenge of hope that has stuck with me. Yesterday was my birthday and while it is difficult for me to acknowledge it I did with hope. Take care
In the span of two years, I lost my husband and his parents. I now live with all their belongings in my garage. This prompt and what I wrote will be my intention for the year...This is what I wrote for Dream Nests and Nectar.
Dream Nests and Nectar.
A garage full of other people's belongings
Dripping with memories attached
Sticky with good times
What do they mean to me?
Saving all of it doesn't keep the person alive or the memory any richer, it only weighs my nest down.
My nest so cluttered, I can't move or grow.
It's time to let it all go
Gently lifting each item up to the edge and pushing it out.
Creating a space to thrive
Creating a space to drink the nectar of my dream nest.
Your ‘sweetness’ here is not superficial, I feel it’s deeply intentional, urging me to cultivate presence, acceptance, and gratitude. It offers a gentle counterbalance to fear and flux, reminding me that even in the darkest moments, there are glimmers of beauty and peace if we choose to notice them. Your perspective doesn’t dismiss pain or challenges but instead reframes them, encouraging me to embrace life’s dualities, the ambition to make plans and the grace to let them go. The sweetness you write about, then, becomes both a guide and a refuge, teaching me to live the questions while finding joy in the fleeting tenderness of the answers that emerge.
I woke at 5 am this morning and then drifted between then and six, in and out of brief fleeting dreams, then when I woke woke, I pondered those dreams that I could not recall and this led my thoughts to what I spent most of yesterday doing, going through the totes in our attic. 40 years of four children and two lives before them in photographs and small clothes, birthing suite plastic bracelets, handwritten, no scannable codes. Of school work, binders, artwork, and lovely writing from people so small.
A Recipe for Love by my son Alex;
Ingredients: Tucking me in, Hugs.
Directions: First, tucK me in. Then add The huGs.
I was a good bedtime routine mama. 20 minutes spent with each child.
As my daughters and I pawed through tote after tote of photographs, papers, and memorabilia of this long life, I asked the question about all the saved collateral of childhood from each kid, "Why did I save this all?" "For what?" My daughter, who had enjoyed the discovery said, "I think maybe you were holding onto it for us, but it was really for you." It was. Whatever those dreams were before I woke, I do know their essence was wholeness and letting go. I am ready.
The not-so-wildlife I woke to this morning was my Frenchie, Buddy. I encounter him every day with love, care, and gratitude, and I shall move through this coming year with gentleness towards myself.
You write: "I have arrived at understanding without fully understanding; I have found answers by loving the questions." I push back in my chair, eyes misty with tears and I think: You have arrived at greatest wisdom.
Thank you so much for this post Suleika. I love your friend's ritual each New Year, and how it spoke to your recent encounter with the little sugar bird - and led to your word for the year: Sweetness. Your story immediately made me think of my own encounter with sweetness as teacher and guide, about 15 years ago.
I was at a treatment center in New Mexico for a sticky addictive behavior I needed to shed. I was there for 45 days, sharing a small house with a group of women - learning and growing together. I would get a bit stir crazy at times, so I jumped at the chance to leave the center once a week to be taken to a spiritual center of our choosing. I have practiced Buddhist meditation since my late 20s so I picked a small Zen center to go to.
The first Sunday I was dropped off there, I wandered into the Zendo which was seemingly deserted. I marveled at the beautiful space inside, the lined up meditation cushions on raised wooden platforms, light streaming in from high up windows, the solitary gold Buddha at one end, the distinctive southwest style. I still conjure that place in my mind when I need to imagine a calm space for me to retreat to.
I was startled when I heard a man's voice behind me. It was one of the community's leaders, and he asked if he could help me. I told him a little about why I was in New Mexico and all I had gone through. I started tearing up as I shared about the damage I had caused in my life, how I was now away from my son and husband over both my wedding anniversary and Mother's Day, and how I didn't want to jeopardize those important relationships any longer. He sat listening, quiet and patient. When I was done, he offered me what he said was a traditional Buddhist story. (I just looked it up and found it as told by Pema Chödrön. I slightly altered it to match how he told it to me that day.)
There is a woman who is running frantically away from tigers. She runs as fast as she can, but the tigers are getting closer and closer. She comes to the edge of a cliff, and sees some vines there. She climbs down and holds on to the vines to get away. But then looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. But – she also sees a beautiful bunch of strawberries right by her, growing out of the cliff wall. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and thinks that nothing ever tasted so sweet.
That was it. And I immediately got it. There are always threats (and we will all ultimately meet the tiger of death) but living life is about taking a moment to taste sweetness, to relish in the beautiful joys that are always there. In Pema Chödrön's telling of the story, she adds: "This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life; it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.”
I was so taken by this story that when I went back to the treatment center I immediately told my very Catholic roommate who had to admit that it was brilliant. And when we went and played ping pong that afternoon, as we did each afternoon break, we decided to name our daily game the Strawberry Cup. Playing ping pong in a place that often was about sadness, grief and painful growth was our strawberry moment each day - since we often ended up laughing and screeching with delight, forgetting our troubles for a moment.
Thank you for reminding me about all of this with your story today. It feels so timely. I am now thinking I too might like to have sweetness as my guide this year as I continue to navigate chronic illness, my son's struggles and the world's chaos. Blessings to you, always.
(And happily, those 45 days away did the trick. Still free of those old patterns all these years later).
Thank you so much Suleika! Here's to finding the strawberries in the cliffs of life... and I can tell you for sure that this community has been one big strawberry for me, so much sweetness every time I drop back in. 🙏🏾❤️
Thank you so much for sharing this, Lisette. This story resonates with the different fears I've been carrying. So I googled Pema Chödrön's book and found this passage that's similar to the Rilke quote shared by Suleika (I've starred the magic):
"The path of meditation and the path of our lives altogether has to do with curiosity, inquisitiveness. The ground is ourselves; we’re here to study ourselves and to get to know ourselves now, not later. People often say to me, ‘I wanted to come and have an interview with you, I wanted to write you a letter, I wanted to call you on the phone, but I wanted to wait until I was more together.’ And I think, ‘Well, if you’re anything like me, you could wait forever!’ So come as you are. **The magic is being willing to open to that, being willing to be fully awake to that. One of the main discoveries of meditation is seeing how we continually run away from the present moment, how we avoid being here just as we are. That’s not considered to be a problem; the point is to see it. Inquisitiveness or curiosity involves being gentle, precise, and open – actually being able to let go and open. Gentleness is a sense of goodheartedness toward ourselves. Precision is being able to see very clearly, not being afraid to see what’s really there, just as a scientist is not afraid to look into the microscope. Openness is being able to let go and to open."
Chödrön, Pema. The Wisdom of No Escape: How to love yourself and your world (pp. 4-5).
I will savour her words in the rest of the book. Thanks for this magical breadcrumb that led me to this book!
I'm still pondering my dream-thoughts trying not to be afraid of what will emerge.
Thank you for your words and wisdom, Suleika - you are in my thoughts and prayers for the next biopsy, I'm so glad we can all be here together with you before it.
Thanks so much Gina for your kind words. It just felt so natural to tell my little parallel story. I very much appreciate you taking the time to read it and offer feedback.
What word arises here? “Mystery”. I just listened to Wim Wenders accept an award, and his personal message to members of an academy was “it’s all about service to the film”. So, we each choose, or are chosen, to serve our gifts, what cards life has dealt us. I am not very “good” at love in personal relations. Yet, as I read Suleika’s thoughts today, and seek to respond to the prompt, I see I have a way to challenge myself: maybe, my greatest relational challenge is not as defined by others, nor my own wounded fantasies of romantic “love”. Maybe, just maybe, life is asking something else of me. Without going into details, which I enjoy doing, life has brought me to meet Wang Wei, a Chinese poet/painter and Chan practitioner, from the 700’s. Wang Wei has a poem called, in English, “A Red Peony”. There is this one line in the poem that has taken hold of me, gently and fiercely. “A blossom’s heart is grief-torn? In all this spring color, who could fathom the heart?”
I have slowly, very slowly been learning to play the Japanese Shakuhachi flute. I composed a simple piece to accompany Wang Wei’s poem. Every day I pick up this flute, recite this question “A blossom’s heart is grief-torn?” and spend time and energy, a moment in my life, exploring the flute-musical composition-poem’s question as all this resonates within my body, my heart. So far, no answer to the poem’s question has arrived, and I grow to experience that this arrival each day, showing up with Shakuhachi, deep breathing, and reciting the line again and again, “A blossom’s heart is grief-torn?” Points to Here is the prayer, here is the act of love that I am capable of, meant to serve. Sometimes as I recite this line I think of our Earth as the blossom. Clearly, the Earth may be grief-torn by our human greed and violence. Yet, there may be more to this poem. “Who could fathom the heart?” Maybe, just maybe, my return each day to this poem, with Shakuhachi in hand, reciting out-loud this poem, “A blossom’s heart is grief-torn?”, is my way of saying, reminding myself, that this very action is my way of saying “I love you” to myself, people in my life, this Earth; I am asked by life to express this experience in this limited way. This could all be a dream, are we not dreaming all the time? How much of our daily thinking, activities, concerns, day and night, are dreams. Worthy dreams. Dreams asking us to manifest the beauty of our blossom-selves. “A blossom’s heart is grief-torn? In all this spring color, who could fathom the heart?”🏮
Suleika your writing awakens so many memories in me. I used to read your prompts on the commute to work and squirrel them away in a folder in my inbox. I’ve never felt like much of a writer but you’ve given me courage to write (and comment) just for me. Thank you for this community, this inspiration, built on vulnerability and truth.
Your passage today reminded me about a dream I had about a skunk. And I decided to embrace this adorable, under appreciated mammal as my guide this year. Sometimes nicknamed the “stink badgers”, they are bold but not bullies, and best of all will sometimes dance before they spray.
Thank you so much for the prompts and challenge. I too lost the habit of journaling. The prompts have been incredibly helpful and my answers to them giving me an insightful view that was obscured by my present life. You may not be able to change the world, but you have changed my world . For this I am grateful.
Suleika, I totally resonate when you say you want to make all the plans and at the last minute your illness takes over. How planning on your good days is great but getting there on the rough days is frustrating and for me often heart breaking. I am lucky I have supportive friends and family who understand when I cancel. But for me the hardest part is letting myself down... because i wanted to go, it know it would make me happy. I often feel so sad after.
My poem today for us through this c journey:
Wading out into the water
on days where there is enough air to float us in our lungs
Reading the piece below made me think of your quest for sweetness even and maybe especially when the circumstances of life are rife with bitter and sour. "These boluses of days and weeks in which I can live freed from treatment or surgery are sweeter than any that came before. The sense of beauty is so profound"
Geese were the first wild ones to appear for my New Year. Nothing sounds like they do! They squawk and gossip and debate loudly while flying. I perk with delight, even if not up yet, I hear their industrious cacophony. Most have migrated south by now but this group remains. They sleep somewhere north at night and commute south to work at an urban lake, about an hour after sunrise. I’m so glad they’re still here. No doubt they can discern gender, but we can’t easily. They just rotate the flying lead position in the V. See, Society, it’s possible to share leadership!
I love this poem by Rumi…gratitude ❤️
THE GUEST HOUSE
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning 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 are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably.
He 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.
Rumi
Linda - Love this! I'm going to copy it into my journal. Thank you! 💖
I love this. Thank you for sharing
Suleika, what a beautiful way you’ve found for moving forward through uncertainty. By sharing what you’re going through, your fears and hopes and lessons, you are shining a light for so many of us, as well. I think looking for sweetness is powerful and will manifest in untold ways. In the spirit of your message, I’m going to look to the not-so-wild animal I just encountered on my back deck when I let him in from peeing in the yard at 5:30 am. My sweet old Collie-Shepherd mix, Chase, whose hind legs are weakened by arthritis, whose hearing is diminished and whose eyesight is clouded by age. He still enjoys treats, his neighborhood walks, lying in the sun, and scratches behind his soft ears. Simple joys with the people he loves. I’m going to follow his lead and be more present to those gifts. Happy New Year to you and your pack. Xo
Thank you and happy New Year to you too, Abby! ❤️❤️
❤️Chase❤️ Yes, to all you said here, Abby.
So glad you got to meet my boy!
Me,too. ❤️
Hello . Thank you Suleika for sharing you. And I love your friend's new years day ritual with the first animal. And sharing yours about sweetness. And I love this " As the poet Rilke says, “Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”
I go through all of my changing medical issues with not knowing an not making plans. And after the writing challenge of hope that has stuck with me. Yesterday was my birthday and while it is difficult for me to acknowledge it I did with hope. Take care
Happy birthday, Gina! Sending you love from the in-between ❤️
❤️
Wishing you a happy, healthy, birthday!
Happy birthday Gina!
Happy Birthday Gina!
In the span of two years, I lost my husband and his parents. I now live with all their belongings in my garage. This prompt and what I wrote will be my intention for the year...This is what I wrote for Dream Nests and Nectar.
Dream Nests and Nectar.
A garage full of other people's belongings
Dripping with memories attached
Sticky with good times
What do they mean to me?
Saving all of it doesn't keep the person alive or the memory any richer, it only weighs my nest down.
My nest so cluttered, I can't move or grow.
It's time to let it all go
Gently lifting each item up to the edge and pushing it out.
Creating a space to thrive
Creating a space to drink the nectar of my dream nest.
So happy the newsletter let to such an insight. Wishing you peace as you being clearing a path forward ❤️
Your ‘sweetness’ here is not superficial, I feel it’s deeply intentional, urging me to cultivate presence, acceptance, and gratitude. It offers a gentle counterbalance to fear and flux, reminding me that even in the darkest moments, there are glimmers of beauty and peace if we choose to notice them. Your perspective doesn’t dismiss pain or challenges but instead reframes them, encouraging me to embrace life’s dualities, the ambition to make plans and the grace to let them go. The sweetness you write about, then, becomes both a guide and a refuge, teaching me to live the questions while finding joy in the fleeting tenderness of the answers that emerge.
I woke at 5 am this morning and then drifted between then and six, in and out of brief fleeting dreams, then when I woke woke, I pondered those dreams that I could not recall and this led my thoughts to what I spent most of yesterday doing, going through the totes in our attic. 40 years of four children and two lives before them in photographs and small clothes, birthing suite plastic bracelets, handwritten, no scannable codes. Of school work, binders, artwork, and lovely writing from people so small.
A Recipe for Love by my son Alex;
Ingredients: Tucking me in, Hugs.
Directions: First, tucK me in. Then add The huGs.
I was a good bedtime routine mama. 20 minutes spent with each child.
As my daughters and I pawed through tote after tote of photographs, papers, and memorabilia of this long life, I asked the question about all the saved collateral of childhood from each kid, "Why did I save this all?" "For what?" My daughter, who had enjoyed the discovery said, "I think maybe you were holding onto it for us, but it was really for you." It was. Whatever those dreams were before I woke, I do know their essence was wholeness and letting go. I am ready.
The not-so-wildlife I woke to this morning was my Frenchie, Buddy. I encounter him every day with love, care, and gratitude, and I shall move through this coming year with gentleness towards myself.
beautiful....
You write: "I have arrived at understanding without fully understanding; I have found answers by loving the questions." I push back in my chair, eyes misty with tears and I think: You have arrived at greatest wisdom.
Thank you, dear Beth ❤️
Thank you so much for this post Suleika. I love your friend's ritual each New Year, and how it spoke to your recent encounter with the little sugar bird - and led to your word for the year: Sweetness. Your story immediately made me think of my own encounter with sweetness as teacher and guide, about 15 years ago.
I was at a treatment center in New Mexico for a sticky addictive behavior I needed to shed. I was there for 45 days, sharing a small house with a group of women - learning and growing together. I would get a bit stir crazy at times, so I jumped at the chance to leave the center once a week to be taken to a spiritual center of our choosing. I have practiced Buddhist meditation since my late 20s so I picked a small Zen center to go to.
The first Sunday I was dropped off there, I wandered into the Zendo which was seemingly deserted. I marveled at the beautiful space inside, the lined up meditation cushions on raised wooden platforms, light streaming in from high up windows, the solitary gold Buddha at one end, the distinctive southwest style. I still conjure that place in my mind when I need to imagine a calm space for me to retreat to.
I was startled when I heard a man's voice behind me. It was one of the community's leaders, and he asked if he could help me. I told him a little about why I was in New Mexico and all I had gone through. I started tearing up as I shared about the damage I had caused in my life, how I was now away from my son and husband over both my wedding anniversary and Mother's Day, and how I didn't want to jeopardize those important relationships any longer. He sat listening, quiet and patient. When I was done, he offered me what he said was a traditional Buddhist story. (I just looked it up and found it as told by Pema Chödrön. I slightly altered it to match how he told it to me that day.)
There is a woman who is running frantically away from tigers. She runs as fast as she can, but the tigers are getting closer and closer. She comes to the edge of a cliff, and sees some vines there. She climbs down and holds on to the vines to get away. But then looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. But – she also sees a beautiful bunch of strawberries right by her, growing out of the cliff wall. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and thinks that nothing ever tasted so sweet.
That was it. And I immediately got it. There are always threats (and we will all ultimately meet the tiger of death) but living life is about taking a moment to taste sweetness, to relish in the beautiful joys that are always there. In Pema Chödrön's telling of the story, she adds: "This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life; it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.”
I was so taken by this story that when I went back to the treatment center I immediately told my very Catholic roommate who had to admit that it was brilliant. And when we went and played ping pong that afternoon, as we did each afternoon break, we decided to name our daily game the Strawberry Cup. Playing ping pong in a place that often was about sadness, grief and painful growth was our strawberry moment each day - since we often ended up laughing and screeching with delight, forgetting our troubles for a moment.
Thank you for reminding me about all of this with your story today. It feels so timely. I am now thinking I too might like to have sweetness as my guide this year as I continue to navigate chronic illness, my son's struggles and the world's chaos. Blessings to you, always.
(And happily, those 45 days away did the trick. Still free of those old patterns all these years later).
Thank you so much for sharing this teaching Lisette and your story. It’s beautiful and powerful too ❤️
Seconding what Carmen said! ❤️❤️
Thank you so much Suleika! Here's to finding the strawberries in the cliffs of life... and I can tell you for sure that this community has been one big strawberry for me, so much sweetness every time I drop back in. 🙏🏾❤️
It felt like a gift to revisit that moment. Thank you for taking the time to read all of it 🙏🏾❤️
Thank you so much for sharing this, Lisette. This story resonates with the different fears I've been carrying. So I googled Pema Chödrön's book and found this passage that's similar to the Rilke quote shared by Suleika (I've starred the magic):
"The path of meditation and the path of our lives altogether has to do with curiosity, inquisitiveness. The ground is ourselves; we’re here to study ourselves and to get to know ourselves now, not later. People often say to me, ‘I wanted to come and have an interview with you, I wanted to write you a letter, I wanted to call you on the phone, but I wanted to wait until I was more together.’ And I think, ‘Well, if you’re anything like me, you could wait forever!’ So come as you are. **The magic is being willing to open to that, being willing to be fully awake to that. One of the main discoveries of meditation is seeing how we continually run away from the present moment, how we avoid being here just as we are. That’s not considered to be a problem; the point is to see it. Inquisitiveness or curiosity involves being gentle, precise, and open – actually being able to let go and open. Gentleness is a sense of goodheartedness toward ourselves. Precision is being able to see very clearly, not being afraid to see what’s really there, just as a scientist is not afraid to look into the microscope. Openness is being able to let go and to open."
Chödrön, Pema. The Wisdom of No Escape: How to love yourself and your world (pp. 4-5).
I will savour her words in the rest of the book. Thanks for this magical breadcrumb that led me to this book!
I'm still pondering my dream-thoughts trying not to be afraid of what will emerge.
Thank you for your words and wisdom, Suleika - you are in my thoughts and prayers for the next biopsy, I'm so glad we can all be here together with you before it.
Thank you for sharing this magical breadcrumb in response to the one from Lisette!
M pleasure, Gina! Magic is more powerful shared!xo
Love all of this Victoria - so glad my story led to new treasures! Pema is always a trove of wisdom.
Thank you, Lisette, for your open and vulnerable response, for demonstrating how to find sweetness and joy even during difficult times.
Thanks so much Gina for your kind words. It just felt so natural to tell my little parallel story. I very much appreciate you taking the time to read it and offer feedback.
What word arises here? “Mystery”. I just listened to Wim Wenders accept an award, and his personal message to members of an academy was “it’s all about service to the film”. So, we each choose, or are chosen, to serve our gifts, what cards life has dealt us. I am not very “good” at love in personal relations. Yet, as I read Suleika’s thoughts today, and seek to respond to the prompt, I see I have a way to challenge myself: maybe, my greatest relational challenge is not as defined by others, nor my own wounded fantasies of romantic “love”. Maybe, just maybe, life is asking something else of me. Without going into details, which I enjoy doing, life has brought me to meet Wang Wei, a Chinese poet/painter and Chan practitioner, from the 700’s. Wang Wei has a poem called, in English, “A Red Peony”. There is this one line in the poem that has taken hold of me, gently and fiercely. “A blossom’s heart is grief-torn? In all this spring color, who could fathom the heart?”
I have slowly, very slowly been learning to play the Japanese Shakuhachi flute. I composed a simple piece to accompany Wang Wei’s poem. Every day I pick up this flute, recite this question “A blossom’s heart is grief-torn?” and spend time and energy, a moment in my life, exploring the flute-musical composition-poem’s question as all this resonates within my body, my heart. So far, no answer to the poem’s question has arrived, and I grow to experience that this arrival each day, showing up with Shakuhachi, deep breathing, and reciting the line again and again, “A blossom’s heart is grief-torn?” Points to Here is the prayer, here is the act of love that I am capable of, meant to serve. Sometimes as I recite this line I think of our Earth as the blossom. Clearly, the Earth may be grief-torn by our human greed and violence. Yet, there may be more to this poem. “Who could fathom the heart?” Maybe, just maybe, my return each day to this poem, with Shakuhachi in hand, reciting out-loud this poem, “A blossom’s heart is grief-torn?”, is my way of saying, reminding myself, that this very action is my way of saying “I love you” to myself, people in my life, this Earth; I am asked by life to express this experience in this limited way. This could all be a dream, are we not dreaming all the time? How much of our daily thinking, activities, concerns, day and night, are dreams. Worthy dreams. Dreams asking us to manifest the beauty of our blossom-selves. “A blossom’s heart is grief-torn? In all this spring color, who could fathom the heart?”🏮
beautiful. this may have just changed my life.
A magical synchronicity. Today I picked an old magazine from a pile near my window seat… I opened to the end and read Wang Wei for the first time:
At my window
the rain raves, raves about dying,
and does not
hear in the bamboo
a zither, which plucked,
inebriates the birds
and brings closer to the heart
the moon.
Thank you David for your open and thoughtful post.
Suleika your writing awakens so many memories in me. I used to read your prompts on the commute to work and squirrel them away in a folder in my inbox. I’ve never felt like much of a writer but you’ve given me courage to write (and comment) just for me. Thank you for this community, this inspiration, built on vulnerability and truth.
Your passage today reminded me about a dream I had about a skunk. And I decided to embrace this adorable, under appreciated mammal as my guide this year. Sometimes nicknamed the “stink badgers”, they are bold but not bullies, and best of all will sometimes dance before they spray.
Imagining shy skunk dances to start the day
Yes to shy skunk dances!!!
Thank you so much for the prompts and challenge. I too lost the habit of journaling. The prompts have been incredibly helpful and my answers to them giving me an insightful view that was obscured by my present life. You may not be able to change the world, but you have changed my world . For this I am grateful.
❤️❤️
"Crack open my shell. Steal the pearl.
I’ll still be laughing.
It’s the rookies who laugh only when they win".
Deep breaths
A little lighthouse
Shall we paddle
A door opens
it is the good witch Glinda
Billy Burke
Twinking toes
Sparkling shoes or not
Join the circle
It has been far too long
Darkness.
Does it surround us
or are we surrounded by it?
Darkness.
The light still finds a way
to slither through the cracks.
Darkness.
A place so peaceful,
yet so full of sound.
Darkness.
There’s no hope to be found,
but courage to seek more.
Darkness.
Was once an enemy,
now an often welcomed friend.
Darkness.
Much love to you, Leah ❤️
Thank you, Suleika. Sending you lots of love across the pond.❤️
Suleika, I totally resonate when you say you want to make all the plans and at the last minute your illness takes over. How planning on your good days is great but getting there on the rough days is frustrating and for me often heart breaking. I am lucky I have supportive friends and family who understand when I cancel. But for me the hardest part is letting myself down... because i wanted to go, it know it would make me happy. I often feel so sad after.
My poem today for us through this c journey:
Wading out into the water
on days where there is enough air to float us in our lungs
And trusting that if we float
On our backs
We will arrive at the shore
In time for a beautiful sunset
Love to you 🌅
Lovely
Beautiful. A lovely poem which made me feel hopeful for both you and our dear Sulieka. Thank you ❤️❤️❤️
Reading the piece below made me think of your quest for sweetness even and maybe especially when the circumstances of life are rife with bitter and sour. "These boluses of days and weeks in which I can live freed from treatment or surgery are sweeter than any that came before. The sense of beauty is so profound"
https://mailchi.mp/consciousnessexplorersclub/january2025?e=7dddaaa7ca
May sweetness alight into your days and dreams!
Wild Geese | Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting–
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
Geese were the first wild ones to appear for my New Year. Nothing sounds like they do! They squawk and gossip and debate loudly while flying. I perk with delight, even if not up yet, I hear their industrious cacophony. Most have migrated south by now but this group remains. They sleep somewhere north at night and commute south to work at an urban lake, about an hour after sunrise. I’m so glad they’re still here. No doubt they can discern gender, but we can’t easily. They just rotate the flying lead position in the V. See, Society, it’s possible to share leadership!
Honk away in 2025 Substackers!