Nourish to Flourish

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In what way would you like to flourish? What might we do to nourish what we desire to flourish? Those are the two questions for this month’s contemplative process.

If we want to flourish in our pickleball game, we might reflect on how to nourish our stretching before and after the game.

If we want to flourish in our love for another, we might reflect on how to nourish our commitment of trust.

If we want our bones to flourish, we might reflect on how to nourish weight-bearing exercises in our workout regimen.

If we want our love of music to flourish, we might reflect on how to nourish our listening.

If we want our hospitality to flourish, we might reflect on how to nourish an atmosphere of welcome and calm.

If we want our creativity to flourish, we might reflect on how to nourish our vulnerability.

If we want our joy to flourish, we might reflect on how to nourish our dancing.

If we want our skin to flourish, we might reflect on ways to nourish our moisturizing process, both internally and externally.

If we want our friendships to flourish, we might reflect on ways to nourish our “being there”.

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Photo taken in Dallas, TX.

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If we want our garden to flourish, we might reflect on ways to nourish our soil.

If we want our love for ourselves to flourish, we might reflect on ways to nourish our authenticity.

If we want our sense of adventure to flourish, we might reflect on how we could nourish our curiosity.

If we want our brains to flourish, we might nourish our reading.

If we want our souls to flourish, we might nourish our contemplative moments.

May your reflections of what you want to flourish and nourish be deep and rich and vibrant for you today.

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Photo taken in Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado

Nourish to Flourish to Nourish

By Roger C. Jones

See the rain & sunshine

from the heavens

nourish the forest

and its flourishing flora

steadily emerging

and the forest’s fauna nourished

by the bounty

So let us

nourish our minds with uplifting thoughts

that cleanse our souls

& flourish our outlook, which will then nourish

those we chance upon the way

Perhaps we

ponder our hearts nourished with compassion

from a geyser of human kindness

an overflow that flourishes those encountered

spilling over to nourish others

Then may we

nourish our homes, caring deeply within

passionately, surely, we shall flourish and

with that, the flourish spawns nourishing of others,

completing the circle – nourish to flourish

to nourish

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For April as we reflect on ideas of how to nourish and flourish in our everyday life, I will offer an invitation for each day. You may follow me on Facebook or Instagram for daily opportunities. If you are not on social media, you may click on the image below and find the calendar through a downloadable PDF.

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Photo taken in Milford Sound, New Zealand.

Navigating Speed Bumps and Passing with Care

Do you ever get frustrated when you are driving down the road and suddenly… you encounter speed bumps? We were recently driving on a highway in Canada and were surprised to see signs alerting us to six upcoming speed bumps – on a highway! As we bumped over the first two we remarked that this was something we had never seen before. And then… b…u…m…p… pick up a little speed… b…u…m…p again. After bump #4 we noted a series of homes on the right side of the highway. That’s when we realized that this small community had apparently petitioned for speed bumps to be installed to slow the highway traffic and enhance the safety and quality of their neighborhood.

Those speed bumps may be frustrating to drivers in a hurry—or simply perplexing to drivers like us who couldn’t yet see their purpose—but installing them was a very wise move for the community. It got me thinking about how helpful it would be if we too could periodically encounter speed bumps in our lives that would require us to slow down. Many of us maintain overpacked and busy schedules. We may know that slowing down from time to time would be wise. But it is often so hard to execute.

What if we intentionally placed a few speed bumps in our lives to bring moments of pause into our schedules? One of my previous clients, a trucker, was working on his marriage and his struggles with his adult children. He was on a busy and highly regulated schedule that left him little time for himself and little control over his workdays. He decided to try pulling over for 30 minutes each day – the time allotted for his lunch that he rarely took advantage of. He chose to give himself 20 minutes to enjoy his sandwich and 10 minutes to write in his journal. I recall the “aha” life-giving moments he had during his self-imposed daily “speed bump”. After a week or two, his wife told him she noticed a bounce in his step and asked him what he was so excited about. His response? “I’m excited about life! I’m working on my outlook and I want to work on our life together.” Speed b…u…m…p…s… can indeed be life-giving.

What are some speed bumps we could thoughtfully and mindfully place in our day? As I seek guidance in life, one of the greatest speed b…u…m….p…s I place for myself and for the nurturing of my soul is journaling and prayer. I think one of my unwritten goals is to wear out the green velvet couch where I journal each morning. As I journal, I light a candle and ask God to radiate light and love through me.

As we all know, however, many of the speed bumps we encounter are the ones we didn’t anticipate, the ones few of us would choose. We all have them, and the question is, what can we learn from those speed bumps? How do we grow from those experiences?

Recently on our trip to Canada, I had an experience that prompted the latter half of the title of this blog, Passing with Care. As Roger and I were walking to dinner a couple passed us on the snowy trail from the condo to the restaurant. After a moment or two, another couple passed us. I asked Roger, “Are we walking slow?” He kindly put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Well, yes, I think we are moving a little slower than they are.”

The truth is, of course we were. Lately I have been learning a lot about moving more slowly, even on the ski slopes. That particular day the slopes had been a bit icy, AND I am scheduled for hip replacement surgery in early March. So, each time I cut to the left, my hip felt the jolt. We had skied at Christmas and my hip had been ok. But the icy slopes in Canada had been harder for my hip to navigate. I was limping a bit as we traveled to dinner. We were moving more slowly.

Slower is a new word in my vocabulary. I have worked hard the last 20 years or so to embrace the mantra “slow and savor,” both spiritually and emotionally. However, few would describe our life, our schedule, and our physical activity as slow! “Full and fast” would be a better descriptor. We are extremely grateful for our health and all of the body parts that ARE working properly!

I am learning to accept that slow is not a bad word. We are beginning to look at my surgery and Roger’s upcoming knee replacement surgeries as speed bumps—the kind we don’t exactly look forward to, but which are necessary and that, if we are open to their lessons, will provide opportunities for growth. We will be diligent on moving with exercise and rehab to carefully, intentionally, and yes, slowly and with self-compassion, nurture our bodies to their healthiest potential.

I love this teaching from Kristin Neff: “A key ingredient of self-compassion is the ability to frame our experience of struggle and imperfection as part of the shared human experience. When we feel connected to our essential humanity, it's easier to shine the light of kindness inward. That's why it's so helpful to learn and sustain the practice of self-compassion with the support of others.” I believe that as we practice this type of self-compassion, we have a higher propensity to be compassionate with others as well, and a greater openness to Pass with Care…to hold space for others, to take time to lean in and listen, to savor and nurture the relationships we have.

This month, Roger and I will each share some of the unanticipated speed bumps from our lives that have taught us to Pass with Care – to walk with greater compassion and kindness, for ourselves and others. They will not be past traumas, nor will we be sharing sensitive, personal experiences, but we will share stories of things that have certainly slowed us down and caused us to pause in years past. We may not have welcomed these speed bumps at the time, but upon further reflection, each one prompted significant internal growth and development.

Our common humanity would suggest that each of us has had some speed bumps along the way and we can relate to one another. So as you read our stories, perhaps you can recall the speed bumps you’ve encountered in your own life. And if you’ve never done so before, perhaps you can try reflecting on how getting to the other side of each one led you to growth, however small or large, that you wouldn’t have experienced any other way. Reflecting on the speed bumps we have traversed through life can be opportunities to illuminate our minds to be able to see beauty, to strengthen our hearts to seek new possibilities, and to develop the ability to love others and love life.

We will share these experiences via daily Instagram and Facebook posts. If you are not on social media, you can check out the PDF here.

What is Holding us Back? The Awe and Weight and Wonder of Rocks

a River rock in The Peaceful Garden, Dallas, Texas.

From tiny little hands holding a wet river rock – to the awe, majesty and grandeur of rock formations on a hike – how can we look at rocks in a new way? 

We spend many hours with our two precious granddaughters in our side yard, affectionately called “The Peaceful Garden.” One end of the side yard is river rock, which when wet from rain or the water hose produces an array of beauty – a sight to hold and behold.

a Petrified rock, Peaceful Garden, Dallas, Texas.

Also in The Peaceful Garden are treasures of Roger’s and my heritage, including two rocks from his childhood home in Spearman, TX. One of them, a rough, black volcanic rock, was gathered by his family on the side of the road as they vacationed in New Mexico with their Starcraft pop-up camper. The other, a large petrified rock, was collected from Roger’s paternal grandmother’s ranch in Arizona.

A Path of rocks in The Peaceful Garden gathered from Lake Kemp, Seymour, Texas.

The rocks representing my childhood are some large flat rocks that create a walking path and some rocks lining the flower beds. Some of the flower bed rocks still have indicators of their original purpose – black markings from the fireplace from our family lake cabin built in the 30’s. The cabin was torn down several years ago because the river redirected, and the lake is now dry where the old cabin used to be. Thankfully we were able to find a cabin on a different part of the lake – and save some of the fireplace rocks from the original cabin. They are mementoes of my family’s dedication to lake cabin life…a place to be together, to sit around the campfire, to eat together, to go fishing and to play. These cherished memories of family time, water skiing, vacations and adventures at Lake Kemp near Seymour, TX are a “bedrock” of my childhood experience. 

Roger and I are trying to create an appreciation of all things nature, even rocks – or maybe especially rocks – for our granddaughters. When we travel and hike, we always bring home a pocketful of souvenir rocks for the girls, carefully picked up along the path or along the stream to place in The Peaceful Garden together. We are building memories, building heritage, rock by rock….

Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona.

The grandeur of larger, more majestic rock formations often stops us in our tracks when we are hiking and traveling. It often sparks a moment of worship and adoration that comes over us. The questions that arise concerning the geology of it all – the years, the history, the wonder of creation – is both awe-inspiring and humbling.

El Capitan, Yosemite National Park, California.

And sometimes in our lives, problems and fears can feel as huge as the largest mountain ranges. 

At times, obstacles are part of our reality and we must learn to accept them. 

At other times, we allow the metaphorical rocks in our backpacks to weigh us down, making our load so heavy that we struggle to move forward with our dreams, our desire for growth, our aspirations. How is it that we can look at those rocks differently?

If we unpacked this backpack and carefully examined its rocks…what might we find there? Fear? Insecurity? Not enough? Uncertainty? Loneliness? Health issues? Worry about others’ perceptions? Complacency? Regret? Emotional exposure? Distrust?

What is hanging over you, weighing you down? What is getting in the way of your journey? 

What is holding me back? is a question I often ask myself. Maybe I find that the hindrance is due to a large, complicated decision, such as “Should I write another book?” or maybe it is a more everyday situation, such as “Why am I having so much resistance in reaching out to this friend?”  

Whatever it is, the invitation is to become aware of what I am holding. What am I carrying? What is holding me back? 

Our task is not to dump out all of the rocks and skip away with a lighter backpack and continue on in denial. It is to establish a date with ourselves to take time for reflection, an opportunity to honor all that is going on within us and make space for the possibility of a moment of wonderment and awe.

yoga at el capitan, yosemite national park, california.

I invite you to join me this month in seeing rocks in a new way…as beauty, as remembrance, and as prompts for reflection.

Rocks reflecting through the Flathead River, Glacier National Park, Montana.

Breathing Into and Beginning 2024

Beauty in the Brokenness: a blog on perspectives

Breathing Into and Beginning 2021

I LOVE January.  Not only is January the month I was born, it is a month of beginnings. I typically don’t start New Year’s resolutions until my birthday on the 18th.  It seems we are usually traveling or still “holidaying” over the new year, which tends to sabotage any success of starting something new. 

Whenever you choose to look at your intentions for the new year, I invite you to join me in a focus on breathing. I will be offering glimpses of beauty each day – daily visuals of living, breathing, growing flowers – as a reminder and as a challenge to slow down and focus on our breath.

Sharing some of the images that have pulled me and the lens of my camera into their beauty gives me great joy.  I wonder if we could imagine together that I am ringing your virtual doorbell and delivering a bouquet each day?  Some of these images were photographed in the Des Moines Botanical Center, some from Claude Monet’s garden in Giverny, France, some in Costa Rica, some in Nepal, some on a hike in Washington, and some in our back yard.  Each one represents a breathtaking moment for me…a moment to reflect on slowing down, and taking a deep breath. 

One of the premises of my book, Stop Breathe Believe: Mindful Living One Thought at a Time is to practice recognizing our thoughts, tuning into our bodies and breathing, and finally, choosing a healthier, more life-giving thought process.  My hope for each of us in 2024 is that we are paying attention, leaning into our learning, growing in place, and starting a ripple effect of breathing calm into our world.  May the intention of breathing into our communities, our homes, and our relationships begin with our very own hearts.

What we know is that deep, diaphragmatic breathing is healthy for us, physically and emotionally. Could it be that we can exercise our lung muscles by simply breathing in…breathing out…?  Could it be that we can bring greater calm to our anxious hearts simply by breathing in…breathing out…?

artwork by allana mcneill

I admit, beginnings are hard.  I am not that great at beginnings.  I like to be really good at things from the beginning.  Roger and I attempted to learn how to play the guitar a few years ago.  Roger is still playing the guitar; I am back to playing the piano.  Enough said. 

The reality is, we are all beginners.  Beginning takes courage…but we already have what it takes to begin breathing strong and begin breathing in beauty.

Roger’s poetic take on Sterling’s breathing can be a lesson for us all.

Photo taken in pella, iowa.

Learning by Roger C. Jones

Our dog pounces

onto the couch

circles a turn

curls into a tightknit ball

deeply inhales and

exhales a strong sigh.

I watch her belly

expand,

by-passing the

ineffective shallow

chest-rising breath

they tell us to avoid.

Without a meditation

instructor, it seems

she knows how

to breathe properly.

Next, she slivers

off the couch

front feet extended

rear end towering

above her head,

elegantly stretching,

precisely as the yoga

instructor trains.

Later we head

out for a walk.

I’m paying careful

attention to her.

Wondering…

what else can

she teach me,

here and now.

Let’s practice together.  Let’s practice learning about breathing.  Let’s practice breathing in beauty.  Let’s practice strengthening our lungs.  Let’s practice breathing out.  Let’s practice
together.  Let’s stay connected.

Happy New Year to you all,

Dianne

Calendar of Care – How Will We Enter the Doorway of December?

How might we open our hearts during this holiday season to one another with intentional and meaningful care and compassion?

The art in the image above reflects a beautiful opening. I picture us crossing through this portal with a sense of vulnerability as we care for others through the month of December – the uneasiness of trying something new, the exposure of not knowing how things will turn out, the risk, the emotional exposure of putting ourselves “out there”. 

We have an opportunity to ask a caring question…and wait and listen for the answer. 

We have an opportunity to hug a little longer….

We have an opportunity to look in someone’s eyes and ask a caring question….

We have an opportunity to linger…. 

We have an opportunity to invite another to a conversation of care….

We have an opportunity to listen….

We have an opportunity to learn someone’s name that we encounter often and begin calling them by name….

We have an opportunity to reach out with a heart of care….

We are standing on a threshold and we can choose to enter with others with gentle care throughout the month. Each day I will offer an idea with the Calendar of Care of who or how we could reach out to another. 

In a month of full schedules and long to-do lists, we can choose meaningful encounters with others to offer a touch or word of care. Shine and sparkle my friends, you’ve got this!

Calendar of Care

Whether it is to offer a greeting, send a card, send a text, give a phone call, offer a prayer, or invite someone to coffee or lunch, below are some prompts to think of others we could lovingly care for this December as we walk through a portal of love and offer intentional care to another. You might even want to print a copy for yourself and/or print one for a friend.Make it easy on yourself…go to the dollar store or Trader Joe’s and purchase 31 cards and you are all ready for the month of adventurous caring.

Thanks to Nawal Ghali for allowing me to share her beautiful art with you.  You can view some of Nawal’s art on Facebook at Nawal Ghali Art or email her at nawal2sue@hotmail.com.

For December as we reflect on ideas of how to care for I will offer each day the idea from the Calendar of Care. You may follow me on Facebook or Instagram for daily opportunities. If you are not on social media, you may click on the button below and find the calendar through a downloadable PDF.

Both/And – Holding Space for Joy and Grief with a Generative Narrative

As we cross the threshold into the month of November, widely known as a time of Thanksgiving and Gratitude, we will be exploring the idea of holding space for joy amidst the pain and hurt of our world. 

Our world sometimes seems to be falling apart, beset by rampant fear, uncertainty, war, and loneliness. We might know the hurt and ache of pain and grief on an individual scale or in a more collective sense. 

The paradox BOTH/AND is a beautiful path…holding space for joy amidst the pain and grief. The contrast, EITHER/OR, can be a short road to nowhere as we examine the contradictions even within ourselves.

photo taken at the peaceful garden, dallas, texas.

Sometimes we can get caught in the idea that we have to be really sad and heartbroken OR thrilled, ecstatic, and joyful. The reality is we can hold space for joy AND grief. 

My husband Roger recently penned this powerful poem about holding the tension between the good and the beautiful with the pain and worry that characterizes our world.

Sometimes brokenness can mean broken open, a painful but life-giving space that can eventually lead back to wholeness. “That brokenness you feel?” said Rev. Dr. Jacqui Lewis. “It, too, is love. Never apologize for caring enough that it leaves you aching, yearning for a better world than this.” 

Krista Tippett, creator and host of the podcast “On Being,” first introduced me to the idea of a “generative narrative,” the concept of desiring to amplify what is good and beautiful without denying what is not. 

Krista offers a generative narrative practice “to set out to become alert and somewhat reverent of what is good and lifegiving in the ordinary encounters of your days: what you read, what you focus on, what you look for and notice in people close to you, and also what you notice in strangers. And let that shape the larger picture of the world that you’re working with.”

We have many narratives, many stories that we tell ourselves. Often the stories are self-critical. We may not have the opportunity to control the circumstances of our lives. We can, however, compose the ending of our stories, as the choice of our narrative is up to each of us. 

For me, one way to shift my narrative and to look at life through a wider lens is to go to nature, reflect on the beauty there, AND pause and go deep within the wholeness nature offers. Taking refuge in nature allows me to begin looking at embracing my brokenness as an integral piece of my journey.

photo taken at marley beach, bermuda.

For the month of November, I invite you to join me in stepping out in nature – a backyard, an apartment deck, a nearby park, a beach. Allow the beauty and the stories that emerge from the cycles of life found in nature – a day, a season, a seed that eventually flowers into fullness – bring our hearts peace and a hope for a new tomorrow. May our pain and our fears find a place of rootedness in the wholeness of life, where they may be transformed. 

I will share images of nature in November as we reflect on how to hold space for a generative narrative that allows room for both our joy and our pain. You may follow me on Facebook or Instagram for daily encouragement and reflective questions. If you are not on social media, you may click on the button below and find the photography and the reflections through a downloadable PDF.

A Glimmer of Light for the Fall – Reflections Through the Senses for the Season

Photo taken in dallas, TExas.

We placed the pumpkins out and planted a croton earlier this year as the planter was bare from the brutal Texas summer heat. As I took a pic of the pumpkins and the rich fall colors in the croton to send to a friend, I noticed the glimmer of light. The way the morning light shone on the pumpkins made me wonder how I would appreciate and “see“ the fall differently after such a hot summer. What would my perspective be? 

In the counseling world, the word “glimmer” is used in Polyvagal Theory to refer to something that’s the opposite of a trigger. According to Deb Dana, LCSW, “Glimmers refer to small moments when our biology is in a place of connection or regulation, which cues our nervous system to feel safe or calm. We’re not talking great, big, expansive experiences of joy or safety or connection, these are micro moments that begin to shape our system in very gentle ways.” 

Examples of glimmers are: seeing a rainbow, smelling lavender, feeling the warmth of the sun, humming, wrapping our body in a soft blanket, a meaningful conversation with a trusted friend, a cup of coffee, or sunlight sparkling on water.

What are the “glimmers” we can anchor into and claim for ourselves? What will help us be resilient during times of struggle? What can strengthen the depth of our mental health and vitality in everyday life? Glimmers are not unlike the “green statements” I wrote about in Stop, Breathe, Believe, and they will be unique for each of us. 

PHoto taken at lake kemp, seymour, texas.

I love this Celtic Psalter by John Philip Newell:

“As the day’s light breaks the darkness of the night, as the first movements of the morning pierce the

night’s stillness,

so a new waking to life dawns within me, so a fresh beginning opens.

In the early light of this day,

in the first actions of the morning,

let me be awake to life.

In my soul and in my seeing

let me be alive to the gift of this new day, let me be fully alive.”

How is it that we align with our authenticity to live fully alive on a day-to-day, hour-to-hour basis? 

For October, may we search for the glimmers...the things that help us feel safe and resilient. May we all look for tastes, sounds, places, and people that help us feel grounded and fully alive.

photo taken in Dallas, texas.

Gretchen Rubin’s book, Life in Five Senses, is a beautiful primer on paying attention to the beauty within each of our senses. Seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching are examined in a fresh perspective, with emphasis on what is occurring in our body. Rubin enhances the “soul work” of paying attention with this quote by William Blake: “Man has no Body distinct from his Soul. For that called Body is a portion of Soul discerned by the five senses, the chief inlets of Soul in this age.” 

May we be inspired to notice…notice the light, notice the glimmers, notice the taste, notice the intricacies of what we see, notice the sounds, notice the touch.

photo taken in dallas, texas.

May we allow the sights, senses and thoughts of October to remind us to contemplate the idea of looking for the glimmer, to pause and reflect, and then ultimately to invite wonder into our everyday by accentuating the pause of the day, the hour, the moment. 

You may follow me on Facebook or Instagram for daily encouragement and reflective questions. If you are not on social media, you may click on the button below and find the photography and the reflections through a downloadable PDF. 

Being Mindful of Ordinary Movement – Experiencing Movement as a Language

photo taken at mirror lake, snowy range, wyoming.

photo taken at mirrow lake, snoqualmie pass, washinghton.

Mindfulness is often associated with a lot of fancy definitions. I seem to most often land on the idea of “paying attention” as the most simple, useful definition.

How might we be mindful or pay attention to movement in an ordinary day? How can we be more active in our body and heart and mind?

How might we become fluent in the idea of experiencing movement as a language for a wholehearted and healthy lifestyle? 

What we say and how we talk to ourselves is so very important.  What if we also contemplate how we could move in a tender and kind way towards ourselves? What if movement could be a language we could listen to? What choices could we make to move more freely? How could we move in a loving, gentle, and active way – a way that could possibly be the most generous gift we have ever given to ourselves and to others? 

I love the concept of being a lifelong learner. What could we learn from paying attention to our movements in an ordinary day? What might we observe as we tune into movement around us? 

I had never given much thought to my little finger, until one day Sterling and I were out for a walk and I was struggling with all I was carrying – leash, camera, coffee, phone. I temporarily put her leash on my little finger just about the time she saw a squirrel…and you guessed it, she lunged for the squirrel and  my little finger was broken. Oh, the painful reminder over the next months of the value and necessity and preciousness of my smallest finger! How I began to truly appreciate all ten of my fingers – even the littlest one.

To celebrate and cherish movement is valuable – a gratitude journal of movement, if you will.  

I once saw a t-shirt that said, “I run because I can.” I love that message, but truth be told, I don’t run – and I can. Loving and appreciating the things we CAN do is a powerful means to be grateful for our movement abilities, in whatever capacity we have. Our bodies are meant to move. 

As I get older, I am learning new considerations for how to move. Managing hip pain, for example, has taught me that daily morning and evening stretches are essential for loosening up and lubricating the joints. We may have diminishments from aging or disease or accidents (pickleball seems to be a favorite sport AND an accident risk among my age group), but our commitment to move is essential to our health.

Movement is one of the most effective, non-pharmacologic methods to elevate mood, improve memory, and enhance overall wellbeing. 

My Dad had Parkinson’s disease, a neurological disorder that disrupts normal movement. Dad was an incredible and inspirational role model for anyone who knew him. He was always active, a runner before running was cool. When I was in elementary school, I recall him leaving the house each morning to go for a run at 6:30 am…every workday. To the end of his life, even when he couldn’t move as freely as he once could, he valued exercise and movement.  

I remember one day in his later years when Mom and Dad were still living at home, I offered to help him unload the dishwasher as he was shakily putting a glass up on the top shelf. “Oh no, Dianne,” he replied, “this is part of my daily exercise. I get to stretch to put the dishes up.” Dad’s doctors were always impressed with his strength. His daily tenacity and dedication to movement was key to his ability to live and love life.

This image is one of Dad exercising at the assisted living home in Lubbock, Texas.

Photo taken in Lubbock, Texas.

If there were an award for most hours in the exercise room, Dad would have won it. He just inherently got the value of movement and exercise. He exercised his body to keep it strong, and exercised his brain to keep it sharp. What a life lesson he gifted to all of us who knew him, his wisdom compensating for his later travails.  

How are our emotions tied to our motions and movement?  Research and our own experiences tell us that it is difficult to feel emotions without some kind of movement. We might shake when we are nervous, we might heave in long, shaking sighs when we’re sad, we might stiffen our jaw or tighten our neck and shoulders when we’re anxious, or we might jump up and down when we’re excited. A primer on feeling our emotions with our bodies can be found in observing children.

Photo taken at Lake Kemp, Seymour, Texas.

What a loving thing to do for ourselves – to give ourselves permission to move with our emotions, to let go of what we may have unknowingly trapped inside. How loving to encourage our bodies to move, and to free our emotions to restore the feeling of being fully alive! 

Could it be that we even notice and appreciate the ordinary movement of things in our home – from the flow of water we initiate to fill the coffee pot to the rotation of the ceiling fan? So many movements enable our conveniences of life and allow us the possibility of using our time in a more passionate way.  

When we were hiking In Nepal, we stopped at a tea house for an overnight rest, and learned that they had just recently acquired running water. The proprietors were overjoyed in telling us about the new ease with which they could provide for their guests. I took a photograph of this beautiful young tea house host washing the potatoes for lunch.

Photo taken in Nepal.

In reflecting on the concept of paying attention to movement, this month I invite us to pay attention to the ordinary movement in our ordinary days. I will be sharing some photos of movement from my recent days – some related to physical movement and others related to noticing movement in my everyday surroundings. May we consider how especially important the small movements are, as each small step is the first movement toward a big step.

I will close with this poem on rethinking movement and its infinite possibilities by my husband Roger.

You can follow the daily posts on Instagram and/or Facebook. If you are not on social media, you may download the PDF of daily reflections below.

Water – Through the Lens of Wonder – What are We Thirsty For?

Photo taken at crater lake, oregon.

What do you think of when you think of water? After asking various people, I composed a list of the responses.

Drink of water. Water bill. Rain. Waterfalls. Conservation. Snow. Ice. Mud. Key to life. Floods. Swimming Pool. Climate change. Toilet. Sprinkler system. Refreshing. Bubble Bath. Beach. Lake. Pond. River. H2O. Shower. Mode of transportation. Puddle. Hydration. Calm. Liquid. Ice. Wet. Global water issues. Ocean. Surfing. Summer. Calm inducer. Powerful. Water skiing. Dangerous. Sounds of stream. Waves. Raindrops. Fish. Moisture. Playful. Reflections. Fire Department. Tears. Garden hose. Drought. Fountains. Boiling water. Clean water. Cool. Contaminated. Thirst-quenching. Faucet. Filtered water. Life. Bottled water. Jug of water. Swimming. Drop of water. Blue. Tranquil. Survival.

Maybe you would have a few reflections to add of your own.

Photo taken in dallas, texas.

As I contemplate water, my thoughts keep coming back to the concept of thirst. What is it that we are thirsty for? 

Photo taken in grand teton national park, wyoming.

Are we thirsty for a soul connection – a God connection? 

I think of the scripture in Psalm 42, “As the deer panteth for the water, so my soul thirsts for Thee.”

PHoto taken at santa elena canyon, big bend national park, texas.

Are we thirsty for a soul connection – a friend who listens deeply?

Photo taken in our front yard in dallas, texas.

Are we thirsty for a soul connection – a vivid, growth-oriented and deep understanding of ourselves? 

Photo of a spiderweb taken in carpinteria, California.

Are we thirsty for a soul connection – the kind of passion and “knowing” that our days are meaningful and purposeful? 

Nature quenches the thirst of my soul. For me, I find that nature teaches me to be present, to be still, to listen to my heart. I discover that water invites me to a sacred flow of life.

photo taken on the john muir trail, california.

Nature invites us to be more open to beauty – to breathe in the beauty. Nature invites us to breathe in awe and wonder. 

This month I invite you to join me in contemplating various images of water. We will consider the forms of water, the inspiration of water, ways to play in water, what we see when we look at water. You can follow the daily posts on Instagram and/or Facebook. If you are not on social media, you may download the PDF of daily reflections here. I am grateful for you to wade into this journey of water with me.

Golden Life Lessons from Sterling

Sterling is our silver lab and we adore her. We fell in love with her at first sight when we were on a ski trip and our niece showed us her pic online. We were soon on the phone finding out the details. Sterling has a kind and calm disposition, and has many additional qualities that teach us “golden” life lessons.

Photo taken in pella, iowa.

Sterling and I love to get up early. We sit in the backyard and watch the squirrels, observe the sun come up, listen to the birds, and soak in the solitude together. My morning ritual is integral to creating meaning for the full days of life. I have found it critical to center my heart, focus on the intentions of the day, and notice the things that cross my path. In this photo, I was noticing the texture in her beautiful face.

Photo taken in Dallas, Texas.

Noticing and paying attention are key elements in being mindful. I find it to be a practice that is worth working on. Over and over again. There are so many conversations, interactions, and relationship encounters that I truly value…but the minute it is over I recognize I was distracted with some detail and wasn’t fully present. Practice, practice, practice…and learn from Sterling. 

When Roger was sick with cancer, Sterling would not leave his side when we were home. She lay wherever he was. We hadn’t really noticed her instinctual concerns for Roger until one day when he was particularly struggling, she got up on the bed and lay next to him, snuggling in and placing her head on his leg. She normally will not get on the bed, so I knew it was a significant, intentional move of love. When I notice moments of value, sometimes I try to take a picture.

Photo taken in dallas, texas.

Not only in sickness and in sorrow do we learn from Sterling, but in her moments of chasing balls, jumping into water, and greeting others with enthusiasm, we learn to celebrate life and cherish the moments.

PHoto taken at brenton arboretum, iowa.

Roger, my husband, is just crazy in love with Sterling and penned this fitting poem several years ago. Enjoy!

This month we will learn from Sterling as she teaches us some golden life lessons. You are invited to join me in following Sterling’s teaching on Instagram and/or Facebook as a daily post with some fun pics. If you are not on social media, you may download the PDF of daily reflections below. 

The Texture of Life – Seeing and Touching and Feeling the Depth of Softness

When we think of softness, we might think of feeling something soft with our fingers. How do we visualize or see softness? 

In a world that might feel hard right now, how might we feel soft? When might we find strength in softness?

How might we contemplate softness as a tactile experience – such as the sense of touch? How might we consider softness as a visual experience – such as with the sense of sight? How about we embrace softness as an experience…of love and maybe even life, slowed down, leaned into, lingering with, welcoming?

When we think of phrases about softness, we might come up with soft tacos, soft skills, soft breeze, soft pretzel, softhearted, soft as a baby’s bottom, soft spot, soft soap, soft spot in your heart, soft option, soft shoe, soft landing, soft butter, soft ice cream, soft rock or soft drink.

As we try to welcome in softness, could we think of softness as a friend who would want kindness to come along as a companion? Could we invite her in?

How can we love more softly? How can our love be layered in depths of kindness? What level of openness and vulnerability would loving more softly beckon?

Once when I was working with a couple, I gave them a project for the week, to be kind to one another. When they returned the following week, they reported that “the kindness project” was the most difficult homework I had ever given them. But they stuck with it, and their hearts softened towards each other.

Sometimes, when we want someone to pay attention, we instinctively whisper. It’s the leaning in, the listening closely, that we desire. Sometimes, we whisper for emphasis. Sometimes, for more depth, we could love softly and listen a bit more closely. 

Roshi Joan Halifax offers the concept of strong back and soft heart, the idea of operating out of love, not fear. “All too often,” she says, “our so-called strength comes from fear, not love. Instead of having a strong back, many of us have a defended front, shielding a weak spine. In other words, we walk around brittle and defensive, trying to conceal our lack of confidence. If we strengthen our backs, metaphorically speaking, and develop a spine that’s flexible but sturdy, then we can risk having a front that’s soft and open. How can we give and accept care with strong back, soft front, compassion, moving past fear to a place of genuine tenderness? I believe it comes when we can be truly transparent, seeing the world clearly and letting the world see into us.” 

This month, I invite you to visualize softness with me. I invite you to feel softness with me, both as a sense of touch AND as an experience.

In addition, I also invite you to visualize, feel and photograph softness throughout the month. It can be a challenging experience to see what you can embrace, what you notice, what stirs your curiosity as you look into and experience softness as a focus…no fancy camera needed, a cell phone is great!

I will share various images of softness on Facebook and Instagram each day with you. If you are not on social media, you can download the daily images here or by clicking the button below..

Roots: Exploring Renewal and Resilience

Roots and hands fascinate me. The veins of life and love that become visible through our hands as we age mesmerize me, much like when you can see the roots of a tree on a creek bank or on an uprooted tree.  

I recall as a little girl sitting in the church pew next to my precious grandmother, Ninie, and playing with the veins in her hands. Pushing, poking, prodding…she didn’t seem to mind. Fast forward a few years ago when I was sitting next to our granddaughter in church and she was twirling my ring, playing with the veins in my hands, poking, prodding…I didn’t mind. A tear swelled in my eye that day as I connected the memory of my family roots and being present to the precious moment next to my granddaughter.

Photo taken in Dallas, TEXAS.

As I love on Mom these days, I often reach for her hands to hold them. I desire to embrace the moment, take time to touch one another – literally and figuratively. Her precious hands are often gently clasped together in her lap, and I notice the changes in the hands that were once full of vitality and life, flowing with love, energy and care. I still see beauty in her hands, although now they are arthritic and weaker. The veins are more prominent and remind me of a root system, calling to mind Mary Oliver’s beautiful words, “my root delicate as an artery.” The flow of love through Mom is deep, the heartbeat continues.

Increasingly, Mom has trouble recalling recent events, but she has a strong recall of many roots of her life. When I share something with her about one of the grandkids she will get so excited and exclaim, “Oh, I just have goose bumps all throughout my body.” I had only thought of goose bumps on the surface of the skin, but the way Mom phrases it, I wonder if it goes deeper – as the depth of her love for precious grandkids does, deep down in the roots of her being.

photo taken in Dallas, TEXAS.

Recently we had Mom over for lunch, and served very simple sandwiches on her and Daddy’s wedding pottery, the Seed pattern of Russel Wright by Knowles. When we pointed out that we were eating on their wedding pottery, her face lit up and she excitedly replied, “Oh, we picked those dishes out at The Mercantile.” Amazing when she is able to recall the general store from the ‘50’s in Seymour, TX as she digs into the rich soil, the roots of “her-story,” her history. 

What do our roots signify for each of us? Just as trees and plants have various root systems, so do each of us have a complexity of events, experiences, relationships, values, dreams, successes and struggles that weave and intertwine to give life to who we are today.

artwork by dianne m. Jones

At times during therapy, I will ask clients to draw a tree with roots, and label both the various roots AND the branches. The creativity and insight that comes from this project is illuminating. It allows space for the complexity and the beauty and struggle of life, intertwined with both roots and branches reaching out and searching for life. It is often a difficult project to explore and reflect on what are some significant moments that have been buried or not explored for some time. The drawing can propagate a grieving about a lost opportunity, an unrealized expectation, or the beginning of acceptance of an unwanted current reality. The drawing and exploration can also be “beautiful hard” as insights of deeper understanding of oneself become more vivid.

Roots of Renewal

What are our roots that really ground us? What is the anchor for our heart and soul? What are our roots of renewal? What does the concept of roots and renewal stir within you? 

Simone Weil, a French philosopher, wrote, “To be rooted is perhaps the most important and least recognized need of the human soul.” 

Maybe as we are reading this we are feeling weary and tired. How might a bit of rest be a sort of renewal for our hearts? For me, an intentional breath can be a balm, a quiet respite, a mini-meditation for my soul in a worn-out moment. At other times, a longer walk in nature, a nap curled up with our dog in the sun, or sipping on a cup of lemon tea can be restorative.

The season of spring represents renewal in so many ways. Maybe the renewal of our heart is looking closely at the roots we need to nurture, or maybe we need to pay close attention to a root that might need more delicate tending.

“Root” comes from the Latin word radix, which means "starting point," and you can think of the root of something as the place from which it starts, whether that's the root of a tree, or the root of a problem. What might be the beginning, the starting point, of our root of renewal? 

Maybe there is a location that feels renewing for us – a specific place in our yard, the lake dock, a trail in nature. Maybe there is a specific activity that is renewing for us – a time of prayer, meditation, or journaling. Maybe there is a group of people that offers nutrients for our heart – friends, a class, a place of worship.

When doing various balance poses in yoga, the idea of being grounded or rooted is significant. It is amazing how much it helps to mentally focus on the grounding. What roots can we envision that help us visualize renewal and growth?

Roots of Resilience

In researching resilience, we can discover many attributes of resilient people: resourceful, able to reality check the stories going on in our head, willing to ask for help, recognizing there are ways to help ourselves, managing the myriad of feelings swirling around, having others who are willing to walk the journey together with us, being connected to others, having hope, being curious about our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, and practicing spirituality. 

I love the way Dr. Brené Brown defines spirituality: “Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to each other by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and compassion. Practicing spirituality brings a sense of perspective, meaning, and purpose to our lives.”

artwork by dianne m. jones

As I reflect on roots, this mandala that I created is very representative of the heartbeat of spirituality for me…the roots of connection with God, with others, with myself. Those two words that Brené uses, “inextricably connected,” are such a beautiful word description of our roots. 

How might we label our roots of resilience? Our faith? Our family? Our friends? A walk through nature? A disappointment? Our trauma? Our feelings of connection? Our feelings of disconnection? Our story? 

As I labeled the roots in my mandala, it felt like a cradle of deep love and care…a heart of gratitude for those who have loved me well, who have cared, who have listened to my heart, who have challenged me, who have patiently walked alongside me.

Who has held and cared for you? Who holds space for you? When and where do you feel heard, listened to, and understood? 

Roger, my husband, has written a beautiful and thought-provoking poem, “The Living Roots.”

As we reflect on our rootedness this month, as we seek curiosity in relation to our grounding of renewal and resilience, I invite you to join me in pondering a daily post on Instagram and/or Facebook. If you are not on social media, you may download the PDF of daily reflections here. 

Seeds of Spring – Watering Our Souls for Verdancy

Photo taken in Teddy Roosevelt National Park, North Dakota.

Simple… 

Fresh…  

Green…

Each day is a fresh start…

A fresh perspective…

A breath of fresh air…

A spring within us…

Now, 

now, 

now…

now is the time to notice.

Greening… As spring is upon us, may we pause and linger and notice the beauty, the depth, and the complexity of our world and our relationships. 

In a recent photography class, our assignment was to photograph “Simple.” A portion of the class discussion included the complexity of simplicity. How might we simplify and lean in to the beauty of the season, explore the beauty and difficulties of growth, establish some roots to go deeper, decide to prune or let go of some things – even some good things – and especially the things that are draining of our energy and worth? As with most worthwhile endeavors, whether simple or complex, the key lies in the practice.

Photo taken in Monticello, Virginia.

How might we water our soul for growth? What seedlings might we plant?

Photo taken in olympic national park, washington.

When I think of a verdant image, the lush flourishing vegetation, the walk in the vibrant green forest, the greenness, the richness, the ferns, the abundancy of a spring explosion, I am inspired to grow. I am inspired to lean into the struggle, to lean into the idea of celebrating our differences as opposed to tolerating them, to plant the seeds of kindness and compassion, to offer deep and loving concern and care for myself and others. 

Of course, plants need sunlight to survive. What nourishment do we need to survive and radiate love? 

Hildegard of Bingen, a Benedictine abbess who lived from 1098-1179, put it this way, "Good People, most royal greening verdancy, rooted in the sun, you shine with radiant light." She often refers to the "kiss of God on every living thing,” including you, and me, and the towering pine, and the scrumptious lilac, and the tiny bush, and the blade of grass. 

How might we take the seeds of spring’s greening to be inspired to live fully alive?

Photo taken in Dallas, Texas.

As children, my sisters and I were often thrilled to find that our Easter basket contained a BIG box of crayons – the kind where each crayon looks as if it is seated in a giant auditorium, just waiting for you, the “maestro of creativity,” to select a color to bring your creative endeavors to life. In thinking of that box of crayons, I did some research and discovered the many shades of green over the years. 

Since the introduction of Crayola crayons in 1903, you might have found any one of these green colors in the Crayola box: Asparagus, Blue Green, Caribbean Green, Electric Lime, Emerald, Eucalyptus, Fern, Forest Green, Granny Smith Apple, Green, Green-Yellow, Inchworm, Jungle Green, Light Chrome Green, Lime, Maximum Blue Green, Maximum Chrome Green, Maximum Green, Maximum Green Yellow, Middle Blue Green, Middle Green, Middle Green Yellow, Mixed Veggies, Mountain Meadow, Olive Green, Pine Green, Rainforest, Screamin’ Green, Sea Glass, Sea Green, Shamrock, Sheen Green, Spring Green, Tropical Rain Forest and Yellow-Green. What a beautiful kaleidoscope of green there is!

Just as the crayon box offers the tiny budding artist an array of options, so do we have options for expressing our unique image of love. With all of our complexities and diversities and beauties within each of us, we have an opportunity to radiate life and love in an authentic way. Simple love. Complex love. Deep love. Rich love. Verdant love.

Roger, my husband, has written a beautiful and challenging poem honoring one of the many variegated options we have.

Photo taken at Bryce Canyon, Utah.

So, let’s consider the images of nature, and the beauty of green to inspire us to grow and to plant seedlings – in the ground and in our hearts. May we be inspired to carefully and tenderly pay attention. Paying attention to the look in one another’s eye, to the pain in one another’s furrowed brow, to the touch of one another’s loving hand, to the tear developing in one another’s eyes, or to the crack in one another’s voice as we listen deeply, can offer us moments of verdancy within our souls that radiate light. 

For the month of April, we will be sharing images of nature in all of her hues of green. Each day I will post on Instagram and Facebook an invitation to verdancy, a daily seedling of growth for our hearts and our souls to reflect upon. In addition, you can download the PDF below for the daily reflections if you are not on social media.

Reframing Ritual – The Awe and Beauty of the Moment

Could we reframe ritual into a time of sacred stopping…just for now? A moment that invites us to feel more grounded in a time of chaos? An anchor, if you will, to hold us – our heart, our desires, our longings, our dreams? Could it be that the beauty of ritual lies in the intention? Could it be that reframing ritual could highlight the awe and beauty of the moment?

Ritual may be defined as a series of rites, a ceremonial act or action, or an act or series of acts regularly repeated in a set, precise manner. Ritual, tradition, habit, or even a routine can all be similar, yet each reflects various threads of differentiation in the tapestry of our lives. 

Sometimes when we think of ritual, we might think of something that is rigorous or that has to go on forever. Ugh…that scares me. The idea that I can’t start something because I can’t maintain it is enough to keep me from beginning. 

What could a fresh idea of ritual look like? For a Christmas gift, Jill and Brent, our daughter and her husband, gave me a book called Ritual: How Seemingly Senseless Acts Make Life Worth Living by Dimitris Xygalatas. Dimitris, an anthropologist, has studied extreme rituals (think extreme sports), such as walking across hot coals. He has also incorporated neuroscientific research into the process, discovering and documenting the many positive and life-giving attributes of ritual. 

According to Xygalatas, “Rituals are highly structured. They require rigidity, repetition and redundancy. Their predictability imposes order on the chaos of everyday life, which provides us with a sense of control over uncontrollable situations.”

Photo taken in Lubbock, Texas.

What are some rituals that you can think of from your family of origin? Some of mine that relate to celebrations and holidays are birthday parties with one-of-a-kind cakes designed just for me by Mom and going to Lake Kemp for the 4th of July every year as a family.

Photo taken at Lake Kemp, Seymour, Texas.

Some liturgical rituals that have impacted my heart are singing the doxology and reading the Apostolic Creed at First Methodist Church in Lubbock every Sunday. Or the collective effervescence of being with family and holding up our arms in symbolic “Guns Up” Texas Tech Red Raider fashion as we sing the fight song and the Texas Tech Matador enters the football stadium with a rush of excitement – for the crowd and within my heart. The themes of my early-year rituals seem to revolve around family, faith…and football. 

Photo taken in Lubbock, Texas.

What might be a ritual and hold special meaning for one person could be insignificant or just an exercise for another. For some, the ritual of making coffee in the morning is a mindful moment of celebrating the day, noticing the aroma, tasting the flavor of the coffee, and breathing slowly. For others, coffee must happen before any mindful moments can occur!

Photo taken in Breckenridge, Colorado.

Roger and I have often tried to replicate our childhood memories and rituals, while also creating ones of our own. Individually, we each have had our own intentional rituals related to spiritual growth, development of friendships, and attempts at creating healthy balance between professional and family aspirations. Together we have tried to create a life of meaning, contributing to the lives of those around us, especially “loving the one in front of us now.” We weren’t really thinking of designing a ritual, or certainly didn’t call it that, but in reality – we were. As Dimitris Xygalatas observes, “Perhaps the most important contribution of ritual is in providing a sense of connection.” 

Photo taken in Dallas, Texas.

Even what one might collect as a souvenir can be a ritual. I recall that being one of the highlights of vacation as a little girl, the souvenir shopping. What might it be for you? A piece of jewelry, a magnet for the refrigerator, a t-shirt? Roger and I had a goal of visiting each state in the United States together and collected a license plate from each one. It has become a fun conversational piece and a decorative border in our homes. In Des Moines, the collection was located in the basement, and now in Texas, the plates line the top of the garage walls. The value of vacations, the memories, the planning, the imperfect moments along the way, the flat tires, the missed flights – all are part of the bonding that occurs when things go as planned, and especially when they do NOT. A ritual of collecting items is an effort to commemorate the meaningful experiences.

Photo taken in Colorado.

As parents, we tried to create fun themed birthday parties, take meaningful vacations, pick wildflowers, have candlelight dinners throughout the month of December as a family, host friend sleepovers, and have friends sign their name on the rustic attic wall. We would say grace before meals and share about our days at the dinner table. When the kids were younger, we would lie together at night, read a story, and let them talk until they fell asleep. A ritual of attentive listening. 

For me, a very important ritual during those busy and fun times of parenting was a 2-hour Sunday afternoon nap. For some reason, that ritual was INTEGRAL to the week! What are your rituals of rest and restoration for your energy and for your soul?

Of course, across every culture and for all of human history, ceremonial rituals mark the significant events in our life. My Dad was an avid reader of National Geographic and I used to love to pore through the pages seeing how different cultures celebrate events. Ceremonies of ritual encompass many significant times – of birth, baby showers, birthday parties, Bar Mitzvahs, Quinceañeras, graduations, retirements, funerals. Depending on the ritual and across cultures, the ceremonies often encompass a lot of financial, time, and energy resources. Dimitris Xygalatas states, “Ceremony is a primordial part of human nature, one that helps us connect, find meaning and discover who we are:  we are the ritual species.”

Photo taken in Dallas, Texas.

Even our dog Sterling has noticed and is now part of our “getting ready for a guest” ritual. Sterling notices by the way that we straighten up the house, turn on the lamps, and light the candles that a guest is coming. She assumes her posture of sitting by the window, and she begins her role of patiently waiting. Of course, she excitedly greets each guest with lots of enthusiastic love upon their arrival. 

Ritualization is also a natural way to try to control the world around us. Some research suggests that people turn to ritual when they are stressed to help cope with anxiety. When life seems to get chaotic, a calming ritual can indeed be of help. A ritual can be regulating, especially during times of instability or transition.

Photo taken in West Des Moines, Iowa.

Lighting a candle, making a cup of tea, lowering the lights, and creating an atmosphere of calm can be a beautiful transition that can be repeated often. A memory I have as a little girl is of my Grandmother Ninie lighting a candle on top of the wooden dresser in the middle bedroom for someone in the family she was worried about. I asked her about it, and don’t recall her exact words, but it was something to the effect of, “I light the candle as I pray for them, and as I walk by the candle throughout the day it reminds me to pray for them…but the candle, it is for me, it calms my heart.” Isn’t that a beautiful ritual? She combined love and care for others with the calming effect the candle had for her own heart and soul. I have always loved the luminosity of candles – how it can symbolize a touch of calm and peace for our life and for our hearts. 

Could we reframe ritual to be a “fancy habit”? Taking time and intention to set the table, light the candles, lower the lights, and romanticize our everyday lives in a meaningful way? 

Could utilitarian tasks become meaningful moments? Could housework become caring for our home, and the people within it? Could wrapping a gift for a friend be a moment of gratitude for the friendship? Could planning a fly-fishing trip become the foundational enthusiasm for the expectation of catching the big one?

Photo taken in Dallas, Texas.

One beauty of creating a ritual is that it can be simple. A ritual that our granddaughters love is when we go on a hike or trip, we always bring back a souvenir rock for each of them that we have picked up on the trail. We then ceremoniously add it to our collection of rocks in our side yard, known as the “Peaceful Garden.” When we hike together, we are always on the lookout for a special rock to put in our pockets. Rocks as a ritual? Yes!

As we reflect on ritual in our own life, what might we notice? The way we fasten our watch or straighten our tie? The way we hold our hands and say, “Namaste” at the end of yoga? The way we say bye to the grandchildren each time they leave to go home? The way we greet one another? The way we toast a celebratory moment? 

How might the idea of ritual invite us to cultivate meaning into some of our ordinary moments? 

Could we reframe ritual into a time of sacred stopping…just for now? A moment that invites us to feel more grounded in a time of chaos? An anchor, if you will, to hold us – our heart, our desires, our longings, our dreams? Could it be that the beauty of ritual lies in the intention? Could it be that reframing ritual could frame and highlight the awe and beauty of the moment?

I invite you to consider the rituals in your life and notice how they give meaning, structure, and flow to our days.

Photo taken in Dallas, Texas.

For the month of March, we will be ‘Exploring Rituals – Discovering What Fits Best for You”.  Each day I will post on Instagram and Facebook various rituals and images that we might consider.  In addition, you can download the PDF below for the daily reflections if you are not on social media.  Obviously, the intention is not to suggest that we all begin 30 new rituals this month.  Rather, the intention is to offer a sampling of rituals and the invitation is to discover what might be the right fit of a meaningful ritual for you.

Porches and Welcome Mats

As we welcome in the month of February, I have three gifts to offer you. Three offerings that provoke reflection. My words will be few, in the hope that we can take time to ponder the depth, the imagery, and the beauty of these writings. 

First, a passage by John Roedel. John is a comic who unexpectedly gained notability as a writer and poet through his heartfelt Facebook conversations that went viral and became an Amazon best-selling book titled, Hey God. Hey John.

Photo taken in Dallas, TExas.

You are somebody’s front porch to God.

You are someone’s doorway to mercy.

You are the world’s threshold to kindness.

You are my entrance to letting go of regret.

No pressure, but…

Your life is a gateway to peace

for both strangers and friends alike.

Whether you realize it or not…

Empathy has chosen you to turn your

heart into a welcome mat for others.

This is purpose of your life…

To let your existence become a candlelit

veranda of hope for the rest of us to

gather on during the long night.

- John Roedel

Let’s pause together as we reflect. What does this writing stir within you? What imagery comes to mind? Who comes to your mind as we  read and contemplate this poem? What desires does this writing create within your heart for this very day, for this very moment? 

Secondly, an offering that may need a warning label! A warning about the challenge of the writing AND the reward of beginning the practice of what’s known as The Welcoming Prayer. 

Several years ago, I completed a three-year training program in Des Moines, Iowa in Spiritual Direction through the Des Moines Pastoral Counseling Center, now known as the Mind and Spirit Counseling Center. One of the most memorable and impactful exercises of practice development was that of The Welcoming Prayer, written by Father Thomas Keating(1923 – 2018), an American Catholic monk and priest known as one of the principal developers of Centering Prayer. As I recall, we were invited to pray this prayer daily for a period of time each morning. The learning and awareness of my desire for control, the opening of my heart to the exploration of various emotions, and the change in my heart as I invited the presence of God each morning in a fresh way was life-giving then and is part of my heartbeat and daily practice today. Enjoy.

Photo taken in Dallas, Texas.

The Welcoming Prayer 

Welcome, welcome, welcome.
I welcome everything that comes to me today, because I know it's for my healing.  I welcome all thoughts, feelings, emotions, persons, situations, and conditions.
I let go of my desire for power and control.
I let go of my desire for affection, esteem, approval, and pleasure.
I let go of my desire for survival and security.
I let go of my desire to change any situation, condition, person or myself.
I open to the love and presence of God and God's action within. Amen.

- Father Thomas Keating

PHoto taken in Dallas, Texas.

Thirdly, I welcome you to our home, and invite you to pull up a rocking chair as you read the words of Roger, my precious husband, who does a lot of his writing on our back porch.

May your February be full of welcoming moments for you – your heart, your mind, your soul, your sense of belonging, your sense of becoming.

You are invited to join me in focusing on selected lines from one of these poems each day. Let’s slow down and invite the opening and flow of love into our hearts as we contemplate the inspired words of these authors. 

The images I will be sharing are of welcome mats and porches…and of course, of nature. In the words of Ansel Adams, the famous nature and landscape photographer, "The environment begins right at your front door." Enjoy!

You may follow me on Facebook or Instagram for daily encouragement and reflective questions. If you are not on social media, you may click on the button below and finds the photography and the reflections.

New Beginnings

“Always we begin again.” - Saint Benedict

What is it like to begin something new? We are beginners at many things all along our way. Even if we didn’t want to, we will be beginners with new technology, new relationships, new environments, new journeys; even something as simple as beginning a new book. As we step into the threshold of this new year, let’s consider “new beginnings.”

How do we look at beginnings? To be honest, many times I love beginnings – the excitement of something new; the thrill of expanding my world to include a new perspective; a new adventure; a new relationship; the challenge of being a lifelong learner. 

There are times, however, when I hate being a beginner. 

Why is that? Is it that I hate the vulnerability of not knowing, of not being accomplished at something, of failing, of falling down? Speaking of falling down, I recently took surfing lessons. Oh my gosh, it was so exhilarating and so fun AND so hard. I was so excited that I had gotten up, that I would ride the surfboard all the way in to celebrate. 

Well, when you ride the wave ALL the way in, you have to paddle through ALL of the white water to get out to try again. At times I felt like I could not do one more stroke – and yet, that was the path to learning to arrive at the exhilarating moment of getting up and accomplishing the “beginning” of it all. 

I recognize the challenge to be a stronger surfer when I am in an exercise class or doing yoga. The desire and goal to be strong enough to surf, to be flexible enough to straddle the surfboard, to be able to swim what seems like a city block back out to the surf zone, and even the thoughts of “practicing” create much more determination and bring more motivation to my daily routine. Because we live in Dallas, TX, more than a few miles from any surfing beach, I will probably always be a beginner surfer. But it is well worth the continual challenge and rewards of conquering my fears, and struggling with the never-ending question if I can do it or not. 

Photos taken in ventura, california.

To learn surfing was a choice. To be a beginner at being with your Dad as he is dying is not. We can do our best to prepare our hearts for such moments, but rarely do those final moments line up as our expectations may have painted the scene. We are all beginners, aren’t we? 

I love this picture of Dad and me dancing at my niece’s wedding.

       Photographer: Alexandra Joplin, Lubbock, Texas

For me, living in Des Moines, Iowa, 887 miles from Lubbock, Texas, where Mother and Daddy lived, I always wondered if I would be able to “be there” when they died. I visited them often…and it was a long way. Eventually we moved to Dallas, which meant I was now only 10 minutes away from Mom and Dad’s assisted living home. It was wonderful to see them more often, especially as Dad’s health declined and we knew our time together was short.

Then in March 2020, our daughter Jill, and her fiancé, Brent, were married in Nepal. When we left on a month-long trip to Nepal for the wedding and a family hiking adventure, it was obvious that Dad was not doing well. Saying goodbye suddenly meant more than it ever had. Fearing that he might not be there when we returned, I said what I thought was my final goodbye as best I knew how. I held his hands, I prayed for both my parents as I saw the pain and fear in Mom’s eyes, I told Dad how much I loved him and respected him, I hugged him, I looked in his precious hazel eyes, and then I hugged Mom and left the assisted living to go finish packing. What a deeply emotional moment. I was leaving for one of the most special moments of our lives, as our daughter began a new phase of her life and we celebrated together in beautiful Nepal, and my heart was heavy with fear and grief. 

Little could any of us have imagined, there would be a change for ALL of us with the ensuing pandemic. We were in Nepal only a few days when we began to hear the murmurings in the news of the seriousness of the pandemic. Twenty-five days later we were one of the last flights out of Nepal…coming home to a much different world, an empty DFW airport, an utterly changed reality. 

I wanted to see Mom and Dad immediately upon our arrival, but Roger and I were unable to visit due to the strict visiting restrictions for assisted living facilities, and because we had been traveling internationally. We arrived home on March 24th, and Dad passed away on April 1st, 2020. Not as I had planned. I had wondered all of those years in Des Moines how it would be if Mom or Dad died while I was so far away, and now I was 10 minutes away and unable to be with them. Thankfully, Melinda and Annette, my sisters, were able to be present with Mom and Dad during those sacred moments. The next months were days and days of visiting Mom through the window as she grieved the loss of her husband of almost 63 years.

Photo taken in Dallas, Texas.

I share this story to illustrate that we are ALWAYS going to be beginners in life. In love, in birth, in illness, in transitions, in walking through death with others, in dying ourselves. There is simply no certainty for when all of the moments we will be beginners will arrive – we just know that they will. Thankfully, we can lean into our experiences, our values and the mystery of our faith as beacons of light and hope.

So, the question I ask myself – and the concept I want to embrace is – how can I welcome the idea of being a beginner? How can I invite the insecurity, the vulnerability, the “not knowing,” the “not always in control” aspects of being a beginner? 

As we focus on “New Beginnings” this month, may we reflect on how we can embrace the idea – even welcome and invite the idea – of being a lifelong beginner. Can we practice being a beginner? Could it be that being a beginner is something to celebrate? Let’s explore that together as we begin this new year. 

Roger, my husband, has written a poem that is a beautiful tribute to beginnings. Enjoy!

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An Invitation to Try Living Softly and Tenderly - Choosing a Delicate and Different Kind of December

What would it even mean to be invited to try living softly and tenderly – especially during December amidst the hustle and bustle of the holiday season? 

I love the writing of Aundi Kolber, a therapist and the author of Try Softer. She relates that after meeting with her supervisor and sharing how worn out and tired she was, he said, “I’m not asking you to stop caring, just to change the way you are caring.” And then he said, “What I mean is…what if – just for a change – instead of trying harder, you tried…softer?” Kolber advocates, “Learning to try softer is not a onetime event but a way we learn to be with ourselves.”

When our culture has communicated the messages to go fast and hard, do it all perfect, etc. – what if we pause? What if we take an exquisite pause and walk softly and tenderly towards a different way?

How could we try softer by becoming more attentive observers of what is going on with our bodies? With our minds and our thoughts? With our feelings? With our responses?

Consider this poem by John O’Donohue...

Photo taken in Big Bend National park, texas.

You have traveled too fast over false ground;

Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up

To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain

When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,

Taking time to open the well of color

That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone

Until its calmness can claim you.

Be excessively gentle with yourself.

JOHN O'DONOHUE

“For One Who is Exhausted,” To Bless the Space Between Us

You may receive multiple invitations during December for parties, celebrations, family or friend get-togethers…. This is a different kind of invitation. 

The invitation to try living softly and tenderly takes intention and courage. I am not suggesting that we stop having parties, giving gifts and halt our holiday traditions. I am inviting us – this is me included – to look at our time, our intentions, our conversations, our commitments and with those areas, move into and live softly and tenderly in the way that we do our days, our weeks and our month of December – in the way that we choose to be in our days, our weeks and our month of December.

What might an intentional and exquisite pause look like? 

Maybe our hearts are hurting with grief…longing, feeling lost, or experiencing loss. Maybe during this fragile time there is a significant moment for an exquisite pause. A pause that honors and holds our hearts with gentle care.

Photo taken in big bend national park, texas.

As we were hiking in Big Bend National Park recently we hiked to Santa Elena Canyon, a beautiful canyon wall of 1,500 feet. We were the only ones on the trail at the time and the serenity of the smoothly flowing water, the grandiosity of looking up at the canyons and the peacefulness was palpable. We decided to sit in the dirt and just linger there. After a while, another hiker came up and stood around for a while admiring the beauty of the canyon and then gingerly asked if she could join us. She said, “I have never heard silence before.” Of course, we encouraged her to stay and sit with us for a while. How could listening to some moments of silence each day this month be restorative for us? Maybe during this time of noise there is a time for a restorative and exquisite pause of silence.

Jimmy Kimmel recently asked 100-year-old Norman Lear, the American producer, writer and director, what advice he had for living a long and happy life. Lear related that living in the moment was important. And then he said, "In between the past and what's next, there's this little hammock of now. That's where you have to live." I love that word picture, the “little hammock of now.” Maybe as we look back or look ahead, we choose an exquisite pause of tenderly reflecting on the “hammock of now.”

What might our “hammock of now” look like? Between the “past” and “what is next”…what is the now? 

How might we practice trying more softly? 

In what ways could we be softer with ourselves?

How could we practice being softer with others? 

Photo taken in dallas, texas.

In what way does our heart yearn for tenderness? 

In what ways could we be more tender with ourselves? 

How could we practice being more tender to those we love? 

Photo taken at sun valley ski resort, idaho.

I first fell in love with Brandi Carlisle’s music when I heard her sing “I Have a Voice” with Alicia Keys. The morning I was writing this piece, Carlisle’s song “Stay Gentle” came across my social media feed. So beautiful, and so appropriate to this month’s concept of living softly and tenderly. Enjoy!

The reality is that living softly and tenderly takes a lot of strength and courage. We are precious, fragile, strong and loving beings. We desire to be loved and seen and heard and understood. May we lean into our strength, our vulnerability, our desire to cherish the “hammock of now” as we walk through December in a meaningful way – a softly and tenderly way. 

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Nostalgia in November - Sometimes Bittersweet, Sometimes Lovely, Sometimes Just Hard

As we enter into November, let’s take a few moments to focus on the topic of nostalgia. What is a moment of nostalgia for you? 

Let’s focus on the various senses as we reflect on the feeling of nostalgia.

What does nostalgia look like?  

What does nostalgia smell like?  

What does nostalgia taste like?  

What does nostalgia feel like?  

What does nostalgia sound like?

One sweet, nostalgic moment I had recently came from a pic my sister sent me of an antique electric fan from our family lake house at Lake Kemp, near Seymour, TX. The lake house has been in our family forever, and we grew up going there often, and still go to the lake during the summers. The fan is well traveled: it’s been in our game room in Amarillo, TX, our basement in West Des Moines, IA, and then upon moving to Dallas, TX, we decided to let go of it and share it with whoever in the family might want the antique fan. My sister chose to have it re-wired and make it functional, so the fan is currently in Abilene, TX.

Photo taken by Annette Wise in Abilene, Texas.

When I saw the image of the fan in their home, I was immediately catapulted back to the lake as a little girl, sitting at the rectangular table that featured images of fish on each corner. The fish could be seen underneath the multiple coats of varnish lovingly applied by my grandmother, Tinie. I could hear the whir of the fan: it would swing to the right, clickety click, and then swing to the left, clickety click, clickety click, click, click, and I would always wonder if it was about to quit working with that extra click, click to the left. I could feel the sweep of the moving air. The fan seemed to offer a melodic hum of comfort in my memory. 

What about the smell of nostalgia? As a teenager, I can recall walking into our home after a full day of high school and smelling the freshly baked homemade bread or Italian cream cake or apple dumplings or peach cobbler that Mom had lovingly made for our supper. We had fresh bread and homemade desserts almost every night. Mom loved baking and we loved being on the receiving end. I wanted to be the same kind of Mom to my kids. And while they did walk into a house full of aromas from freshly baked treats, it was definitely more likely to be Betty Crocker brownies or Nestlé slice and bake cookies.

Photo taken in Lubbock, Texas.

Regarded through centuries as a “psychological ailment,” nostalgia is now emerging as a fundamental human strength. According to one research study, nostalgia may be uniquely positioned to offer integrative insights across such important areas of psychology as memory, emotion, the self and relationships. 

We can also see that nostalgia is a social emotion in that it often involves other people. And when we experience nostalgia together, our ties with others are often reaffirmed and can spark nostalgic conversations. Even during life transitions when we might be feeling socially isolated, thoughts of times with others may be grounding for us.

While spending a few days recently with some friends that I grew up with, I asked what they might feel nostalgic about. Many of the thoughts that surfaced were from our school days. It was fun to share the memories of the sweaty stench of the old P.E. gym, the science lab that smelled of sulphur and other chemicals, the sound of the pep rallies, the smells and tastes from the lunch room. And of course, the delicious restaurants in Lubbock, TX also produced nostalgic moments of yumminess: the Brittany Restaurant with a red phone at each booth used to place your order, the chili cheeseburger from Char King, the aroma as you walked into the Little Italy and saw the chef tossing the pizza dough, and of course, the scrumptious blueberry muffins at the 50 Yard Line. We also had fun reminiscing about special friendships and memories by looking at pictures. Ahh…the joy of remembering and cherishing.

Photo taken at Kingdom Possum Lake, Texas.

A hard nostalgic, maybe even bittersweet memory for me involves my cousin, Mitzi. As a little girl, she was my best friend. Sadly, Mitzi had Cystic Fibrosis. One treatment they used back then was a mist tent, and she and I would sit in it together and play Rummy and Chutes and Ladders or Candy Land together while she did her daily treatment. I can’t recall how long we would sit in the tent, but the medicine that was mixed in with the mist had a very distinctive smell, and I am confident that if I were to smell that today, I would recognize it immediately.  

After we completed the mist treatment, Mitzi would have a session on the clap board, and THEN we would get to ride on her beautiful palomino Quarter Horse, Denver. Riding around the ranch with Mitzi was the best prize ever. I loved her so much, and was so very sad when she passed away at the age of eight—my first experience with grief, at age nine. I am confident that being friends with Mitzi was my primer for empathy. This is the epitome of bittersweet—the sweet of spending so much of our childhood together as cousins AND the bitterness of the loss of Mitzi’s life coupled with my lack of understanding about the expected projection of her illness. Thankfully there has been great research and progress for those with Cystic Fibrosis.

Photo taken at Anchor M. Ranch in Seymour, Texas.

Many nostalgic narratives might contain descriptions of disappointments and losses, physical injury, separation, trauma, and even death. 

Our stories are our neurobiological framework through which we experience life. These stories—the compilation of sensations, ideas, relationships, events, and emotions—affect how we see the world.  

There is sometimes an idealized and self-protective version of our memories. My sisters and I often laugh together and help each other out on the accuracy of our memories as the three of us certainly don’t always remember things in the same way!  

I recall listening to my husband’s father, Papa, tell us about his high school glory days of basketball. It seems that in later years, his “best shot” kept inching farther away from the basket each time the story was told. Meme, Roger’s mom, would just laugh and say, “The older we get, the better he was.” So it sometimes goes with nostalgia.  

Photo taken in Spearman, Texas.

The sounds of nostalgia can involve noises that startle us or even trigger trauma: a rattlesnake rattle, a gunshot, a fire with its unpredictable rage and crackle and pop, a harsh word, or potentially the eerie sound of silence in a difficult conversation when we are longing for a response. 

Of course, music is a phenomenal invitation to nostalgic moments. The role of music therapy in assisted living facilities is so precious as the research AND the response of participants is moving. When Mom is having a challenging day, if I put on a Lawrence Welk or Frank Sinatra tune for her to listen to, her whole affect changes.  

What is a song that moves you? What is a musical score that feels nostalgic for you? What are the details of where you were, who you were with, what you wore? It is amazing how the “Polaroid memory” can become much clearer with just a little time and focus. 

What a gift to be able to share memories with others, those of longing and pain and memories of joy. By sharing the memories, not only can we reality check their accuracy, we can give witness to the hurt, the pain, the happiness, and the joys of the moments. We sometimes have to agree to disagree on how things happened. No wonder…in our uniqueness we all experience life differently, have different needs and temperaments. Therefore, on any given day any two people experiencing the same exact situation could have a different outlook, narrative, or feeling of the moment.

As we reflect on moments of nostalgia this month, let’s trust our senses and our nostalgic stories to invite us and lead us into moments of care for our hearts. Nostalgia can contribute to the enduring meaning of one’s life. When I asked Roger to write a poem about nostalgia, he surprised me with this treasure. It is always a special moment when Roger reads me his poetry for the first time. I knew this poem was special as prior to reading the poem, I noticed tender tears in his eyes.

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Ode to October – Change, Reflection, Welcoming Wonder

photo taken in West Des Moines, Iowa.

Behold the colors! Depending of course, on where you live, it is likely the leaves are changing colors. Change can be beautiful and complicated! We can readily welcome the change of the autumn crisp air from the harsh summer heat and high temperatures. And we can be resistant to change as well.

One evening in West Des Moines, IA, Roger and I were taking an evening stroll and our neighbor’s outdoor lighting elaborately showcased these leaves. I captured this image with my cell phone and upon returning home, I immediately went to “google it,” as the grandkids say, whenever curiosity strikes a chord in us.

Photo taken in West Des Moines Iowa.

Thanks to brittanica.com, this is what I found to deepen my understanding of the process of change: 

“In many places around the world, autumn is marked by the slow, beautiful change of green foliage to vibrant reds, oranges, yellows, and purples. Green leaves appear green because of the presence of the pigment chlorophyll, which is key to photosynthesis. In temperate regions, cold winters pose a risk to the leaves of broadleaf trees and other perennials and so these plants drop their leaves in a controlled fashion to reduce injuries and conserve energy. This event is usually triggered by the declining day length and falling temperatures of autumn. Leaf abscission (the technical term for the dropping of leaves) begins with the degradation of chlorophyll. 

As the green fades, yellow and orange pigments known as carotenoids are revealed in the leaves of many species. In other plants, pigments called anthocyanins accumulate in the leaves at this time, giving them shades of red and purple. Some of the most beautiful fall foliage features both types of pigments, often with one color giving way to the next as the season progresses. Eventually all the leaves are dropped, and the plant goes dormant for the long winter months.” 

This month as we reflect on the beauty of the changing leaves, may we pause and reflect on the areas of change that we invite in, those we feel comfortable with, AND the areas of change that we are challenged by. Maybe it is sending our teenager off to college; maybe it is sending our young child off to pre-k or kindergarten; maybe it’s working through intimacy issues from a cancer treatment/diagnosis; maybe it’s walking through the degeneration of health with a loved one; maybe it’s beginning a new position at work and feeling overwhelmed with the new responsibilities; maybe it’s struggling with the ever changing political climate; maybe it’s walking through the journey of a blended family…. There are so many changes, and no one way, no sure way, no certain way, no guarantees on the best, easiest, fastest way to step into and navigate the challenges.

Photo taken in West Des Moines, Iowa.

I recently came upon a thought-provoking quote by Octavia E. Butler about change: “All that you touch. You Change. All that you Change Changes you. The only lasting truth is Change. God is Change.” How does that quote cause us to pause and contemplate?

What if, as we notice the beautiful changing leaves, we take a moment to pause – notice the change, reflect on what change might look like for us…and welcome in the wonder. The wonder of NOT knowing, the wonder of not being sure, the wonder of the ambiguity of it all. How might we respond in this time – a season of reflection and pausing?

Joyce Rupp, an author and spiritual director, is such an inspiration to me. She and I would sometimes run into one another on our daily walks around Raccoon River in Des Moines, IA. Joyce writes, “If we want to be spiritually transformed it is essential to include letting go as part of our journey. Each autumn I now seek inspiration from those dying leaves gathering in ever deeper layers on the ground. As the trees let go of what enabled them to sip of the nourishing rays of summer sun, their falling leaves will eventually become a rich humus to nourish spring’s greening growth. If I stay open to the inner and outer changes that naturally arise, (if I dance more and drag my feet less about impermanence), my life can be a nourishing source for personal and world transformation.”

Photo taken in WEst Des Moines, Iowa.

What is it that we might need to let go of? What are our fears and concerns about loosening our grip and letting go of this one particular thing/thought/idea? Each fall I pull out this adaptation of a poem by Macrina Wiederkehr to reflect upon….

The Sacrament of Letting Go

Slowly she celebrated the sacrament of letting go.

First she surrendered her green, then the orange, yellow, and red.

Finally, she let go of her brown.

Shedding her last leaf, she stood empty and silent, stripped bare.

Leaning against the winter sky, she began her vigil of trust.

Shedding her last leaf, she watched its journey to the ground.

She stood in silence wearing the color of emptiness,

Her branches wondering, ‘How do you give shade with so much gone?’

And then, the sacrament of waiting began.

The sunrise and the sunset watched with tenderness.

Clothing her with silhouettes, they kept her hope alive.

They helped her understand that her vulnerability,

Her dependence and need, her emptiness,

Her readiness to receive

Were giving her a new kind of beauty.

Every morning and every evening,

They stood in silence and celebrated together

The sacrament of waiting.

May we allow the poem and the images of leaves and thoughts of October throughout the month to remind us to contemplate the idea of change, pause and reflect, and then ultimately invite wonder into our everyday by accentuating the pause of the day, the hour, the moment. 

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Noticing Nature – I Notice, I Wonder & This Reminds Me

An intense appreciation of nature is a gift that our parents gave Melinda, Annette and me. Dad always wanted to explain how a bluebonnet propagated, why the river would flow as it did, how a turkey roosts in a tree, the details of lily pads, the direction of the wind and the force of the water, the lifecycle of peach trees—from blossom to the first delicious and juicy bite right off of the tree. 

Mom and Dad encouraged us to have pets and “notice nature” in that way, too: parakeets, cats, dogs, quail, ducks, horses, peacocks. As a little girl, I can recall sitting in a field with Dad and he would point out some small, yet significant piece of nature that he wanted me to notice. “Dianne, look at this,” he’d say as he was pointing to a petal of a flower or the stripes in the leaf of a plant. He often would talk about God as the Creator. 

We were encouraged to enjoy nature, love our pets well and have fun outdoors—play in the rain, jump in a mud puddle, play in the river!

Photos taken in Seymour, Texas.

Mom and Dad’s grandkids have also been the recipients of the noticing-nature gift. Of course, there were times that we were not really interested in such details and would secretly wish Dad would get through the nature lesson more quickly! Now, of course, after Dad has passed away, any of us would love to linger and listen to just one more of Grandy’s nature lessons. 

Roger and I find ourselves wanting to share this priceless legacy with Joy and Emilia, our granddaughters. I want to teach them about awe…and wonder…and nature…and worship.

Photos taken in Dallas, Texas.

We touch…and smell…and listen…lie on our backs and look at the stars…and watch the clouds make pictures…and hunt for bugs and butterflies…and fill our buckets with important treasures…like rocks and sticks and such. 

Roger and I often find ourselves reaching up in heavenly praise as we are hiking…we just can’t help ourselves as we are trying to embrace the moment…of the beauty, of the sacredness, of the grandeur.

Photo taken of Roger at Crater Lake, Oregon.

How can we be open to learning about nature? The scientific method begins with observation. Looking through a magnifying glass is more than just “looking” … it can be using our senses, combining our base of knowledge and getting curious and asking questions.

A recent article in the Fort Worth Botanical Garden Newsletter proposes these three steps: 

Step 1:  I notice…

Consider using tools such as magnifying glasses or binoculars to expand what you can see, and use senses other than sight. What can you hear, feel, or smell? 

Step 2:  I wonder…

This step encourages children to ask questions about what they’ve observed, and the prompt “I wonder” invites them to imagine possibilities. 

Step 3:  It reminds me of…

This step helps kids make connections between what they’ve observed and what they already know. Reminders can be wide open and based on previous observations. A great observation is, “The veins on this leaf remind me of the palm of my hand.”  Reminders can also draw upon experiences: “This leaf reminds me of the time we raked leaves last fall.” Or reminders can share knowledge or information you have: “This leaf reminds me of learning about how plants synthesize energy from sunlight.” 

Not only as children, but as adults, how can we notice nature? The three steps above are wonderful doors to assist us in our ability to be mindful of nature around us. 

Our access to nature may vary for each of us depending on our locale and living environments. Maybe you live on a lake and yet have become complacent about the majestic geese flying in each morning. Maybe you are in a high-rise apartment in a city and have to travel miles to get out of the concrete jungle. As with most things, the desire to notice nature and surround ourselves with nature must begin with intention…and then…and THEN, the wonder and awe can begin!  

Could it be that you could buy an indoor plant or a fish or turtle to befriend you in your apartment? Could it be that your dog invites you into the journey of appreciating nature as you pay closer attention to her ears, the wag of her tail, the wisdom of her affection for you? Could it be that you seek out a walking trail near you with a babbling brook running alongside? Could it be that the expansiveness of the stars and the moon and the sun invite you to marvel at their steadfast and loyal magnificence for you? 

Could it be that you begin to notice own body as a miraculous instrument of creation – yes, you are marvelous and your body is a miraculous work of art. Not only can we experience nature through our senses of taste, sight, touch, hearing and smell—what about being grateful that we can taste the deliciousness of a ripe, red watermelon on a hot summer day; that our eyes allow us to see the sun peeking over the horizon on a crisp, dewy morning; that we have touch to feel the soft, tender, velvety petal of a rose; that we can hear a red bird’s melodious morning song; and that we can smell the upbeat and cheerful citrus scent of an orange. 

Because I am an avid photographer of nature, I am often in awe. Or is it that because I am an avid “noticer” of nature and often in awe, I am a photographer? 

Taking and embracing a photographic image is a gratitude practice for me…a “Kodak moment” that I want to cherish for the day. We are so fortunate to often have our cell phones with us that we can honor the image of the ant crawling on the bark, the flower presenting its blossom first thing in the morning, the squirrel carefully hiding the nut, or the child reaching out to discover more of this beautiful world. (Image of the butterfly and girl’s hands)

Photo taken at Fort Worth Botanical Center, Fort Worth, Texas.

Have You Noticed…

by Roger C. Jones

Have you noticed…

Anger hinders critical thinking

Venomous comments don’t change minds

A hurting soul lingers underneath a mean person

Yesterday and tomorrow haunt the unfocused mind.

  And…

Drab winter hydrangeas emerge in colorful spring splendor 

Crisp wind enlivens the body and lifts the spirit

Nothing rivals a yellow, orange and red summer sunset

We view dreamy distant stars when we look up

Inspiring music mesmerizes the soul into melodic rapture

One thoughtful exchange can change the course of a life

Only intention and concentration permit us to really listen

Every day, kindness emerges in many ways

Every way, love becomes a little stronger and

You are distinctive and unique and precious.

May your September be full of times to notice, to wonder and to remind yourself of the connections in life. 

You may follow me on Facebook or Instagram for daily encouragement and reflective questions. If you are not on social media, you may click on the button below and find the photography and the reflections.