I am reminded just now of how precious the smallest gift can be. Sometimes a gift is so small that only the recipient recognizes it for what it is.

Something my Aunt Caroline said to my oldest sister Kelly, when she was young, was just such a gift. My sister has carried it with her all the years since, and in sharing it with me has gifted me with this treasure. 

Kelly and Aunt Caroline were talking one day about how much they both liked ruffles, when Aunt Caroline said, 

“ I’m really just a little girl in a wrinkly package.”

I’m sure there was a sweet, conspiratorial twinkle in her eye as she and my sister were initiated together, in that moment, into their own private club for little girls in ruffled dresses and marvelous shoes. 

My sister, now an older little girl herself, still finds joy in that memory. But as importantly, there is truth in it. We are all still the children we once were. The packaging may get a bit rumpled, but the joys and pleasures that mark our personalities do not wither within.  

Aunt Caroline knew this with every fiber. It showed in her enthusiasm when she made our family reunions extra special by adding decorations, color, photos, and flowers, which are are actually ruffles in vases, if you think about it. 

And in this one statement she wrote that truth upon my sister’s heart. And my sister, in turn, wrote it upon mine. 

And I will carry it with me all the years hence. 

 

[this is an “egg” from February 16, 2021. We’re beginning summer just now, but I think the message here is timeless.]

 

Winter weather had brought much to a standstill. Including us. But the birds outside were definitely busy seeking as much food as they could find. You see, birds can lose up to 20% of their weight each day in temperatures this low. They must eat all day long just to stay warm.

Eric was keeping the bird feeders full, and we’d been watching and marveling at the beauty of even the littlest brown ones. When you look carefully, the plainest of birds are distinctly beautiful.

This quiet observance brought us gifts and opportunities for service.

This day, a chance to serve arrived in the forms of two tiny little birds who needed some help.

I heard a thump against the patio door. Something frightened a group of birds at a feeder way out in the yard and one flew into the glass. Prey birds had been swooping, hunting in the cold and startling the smaller birds. I went to check, and sitting in the snow was a tiny grey bird blinking one eye, but not the other. I watched for a bit and decided it might need care. I slid the door open, stepped out and scooped it gently into my hands. It didn’t resist even a little, so it was evident it was at least stunned.

I cradled it gently in my hands offering warmth and some energy. Presently, it began to blink both eyes. Then it sat up a bit higher and looked at me. Birds apparently appreciate being sung to, even if it’s not as lovely as their own voices. Pretty soon it was wiggling. I slid the door open and it flew to the table and then up into a tree across the yard. Whew! Here’s a picture of this sweet little one. I didn’t know what kind it was.

A while later, I was getting some lunch and . . . THUNK!

Oh dear. I went to the door. There in the snow, face down, was a tiny yellowish bird with black and white wings; a goldfinch. Again, I slid the door open and gently scooped it up. I was worried about this one. It lay in my hands, eyes closed, with its beak resting against me. I offered some energy and warmth and it opened it eyes and lifted its head a little. But you can see here that it didn’t look well.

I kept offering energy and pretty soon it was sitting up nicely. I slid the door open and it would not fly off. My hand was freezing, so I withdrew it from the cold through the narrow opening of the door and the little bird just came back inside with my hand. I tried this three times. Hmmm, it wasn’t ready.

Perhaps a little CranioSacral therapy was needed.

I checked its wings. Both moved well enough, so I gently palpated (and gently is an overstatement for such a tiny creature, it’s more like intention of feeling rather than actual touch) along the attachments of the wings. Clearly, it had struck the glass on the peak (shoulder) of its right wing as that’s where the feathers were loose. I put a finger lightly against it’s feathers and, sure enough, there was an energy cyst from the impact. A clearly palpable therapeutic pulse came into my finger and awareness. I offered a tiny bit of energy and stayed with the process until completion. In a few minutes the pulse increased and then vanished. Suddenly our little friend was perched proudly on my hand!

I stroked its wings and back and sung it a little song. After a while, it hopped down and was ready to go! I lifted it, opened the door, and extended my arm outside. It took flight and landed in a nearby bush. You can see it here on the left side of the image.

So even stuck at home, I was able to offer what I could. I like that.

And I think that’s always true. No matter what has us down, there’s still something within us we can offer someone to increase love in the world.

~ Jana Moon

One morning a few years ago, when I was working in a borrowed little cottage on a wooded hill, something in the window caught my attention. There was movement in the shadows under the tall pine tree. I could see something shadowy was sliding amidst the large rocks at the tree’s foot. Something said, pay attention.

I’m glad I did.

Moving silently, warily, but with the relaxation of an experienced competitor was a good sized female bobcat. Seemingly on her slow walk from the dense woods across the grassy field to either rest, likely since it was midmorning, or more hunting.

I followed it around and was gifted with a very good look at this beautiful creature from the window. She stood no more than 10 feet away in the sun, looking back and forth, considering her options. She continued slowly on and slipped under the fence into the high grass.

Perfect black ears with a single large white spot on each one. Big paws for her lean and healthy looking body, a stub tail, and not a spot on her golden tan coat. So much like my cat Simon in her form, yet her expression and movement confessed the wild hunter within.

This, as you can tell, made my day. I love the wild creatures.

Bobcat’s are a rare treat to see. Stealthy, strategic, and patient hunters, they use silence and keen observation to their advantage. I think the bobcat is a reminder to be quiet, and patient as we witness the events around us. Using the wisdom we glean from mindfulness and awareness, we can plan our course of action to manifest good without spending our energy reserves beyond repair. The bobcat knows well how to do this and thus can adapt and thrive even in the narrow hunting grounds of a largely suburban environment.

This bobcat, as is their custom, was solitary. One need not worry if there’s another close by, unless a female is raising cubs. They live and hunt in solitary fashion, content with their own lives and worlds and the company of nature. As I watched her walk away, I felt a pang of sorrow that she was leaving, and imagined for a moment that she seemed lonely. She wasn’t. She was simply alone. Alone with her task, her instincts, her world, her den, her warm full belly. She had enough.

And I thought of myself standing in that window in the little grey cottage bare of furniture, save my treatment table and guest chair. I smiled thinking how wonderful it is to have enough. Enough warmth, enough room, enough space to welcome others, enough exactly to do the things I want to do with nothing in excess to hold up or spend my attention on.

I felt for a moment like that precious bobcat; wise enough to be content and aware enough to pay attention so that I can adapt.

Reflecting on the moment, I thought about how sessions with clients are mostly silence and observation. Like the bobcat, we notice the important things when we bring quiet attention to the messages our bodies show us. And when we slip into awareness that we have enough within to know, and to grow, we realize that we have the capacity to adapt and to heal.

“There’s an old Italian proverb: Qui va piano, va sano, va lentano. That means: ‘The person who goes quietly, goes with health and goes far.’ Hurrying up and using a lot of shortcuts doesn’t get us very far.”  – Mr. Rogers

And so this is why I do my work in the way that I do.

I want to work quietly from my little space in the larger world to help the people who come my way to live happier, healthier lives.

In order to be present with others and to think deeply and have the awareness of what matters, I go at a slower pace with enough quiet time to connect to that deeper place from which best of me arrises. Then I am able to hold a space for others to sit quietly with their own feelings and connect to that deeper part of themselves to find healing and peace.

This is what matters to me.

Personally, living this way also helps me enjoy my life and relationships. And it helps me be comfortable even when the world is so full of discomfort.

I often encounter, as I expect you do, new and exiting opportunities for growth that promise to increase success. It’s easy to feel as if you should do them all, or that you’ll be left behind if you are not present in every form of media or taking every workshop.

Sure we all benefit from growth and learning, but sometimes I think leaping from one opportunity to the next is not deeply effective. Having several things going at once, or in rapid succession doesn’t leave much time for development of information into thorough understanding or skill.

So I try to build in room for depth – time to think and weigh choices and understand concepts; time to feel; and time to creatively meander so ideas come from the center of who I am.

I plan a the number of events or trips that I can comfortably do, keep a fairly regular routine, and offer as much service to others as I can while honoring the time for rest, creativity and quiet time.

I think success comes from who we are much more than what we do.