Teabag Tarot: Today's Gratitude

Buddha Tea

This morning I woke softly with gentle wisps from a dream circling my head. Not that the dream itself was soft or gentle. So much more than that, it was significant.

The details remain deep within me. They provide a pattern of explanations for much that I've been experiencing these past few weeks.

So, what does that have to do with being grateful? I'm grateful for the nudging of the issues which arose recently. Honestly, some shoved more than nudged. All seemed relatively small and even unrelated, until the dream. I'm grateful for the perspective.

When people talk about being grateful for adversities which arise in our lives, I generally get annoyed or even angry. "Be grateful for your car accident." or "Thank the Divine for being downsized out of a job." are absurd statements that border on being abusive for so many reasons. Adverse situations, feelings of fear or personal losses are nothing to make flip comments about.

My issues tugged at me, took me into dark moments, created feelings of fear or overwhelm. They nagged at the back of my mind as I slept. Enough so that I lost sleep over them. Enough so that I dreamed about them. Then, last night, the dreams coalesced into one ~ and took me for an unexpected ride into my past and my emotional attachment to a story I had from it. Like an arrow, they pointed to one particular incident and one forgotten feeling. Shot by that arrow, I woke chuckling quietly and thinking, "Oh! So that's where all this is coming from!"

Gratitude is a practice. I could have gone through that entire dream process and never allowed it into my heart. My practice of gratitude ~ noticing and being thankful for even the littlest things in my life ~ helped seal the lesson in place. I'll probably continue to work with it. Each time it surfaces, the lesson will go a little deeper until I finally shower it with enough light and gratitude to break it apart. For that, I am thankful.

What little things nag at you? How do they show up? Do they ever join together? What do your dreams tell you about them? Do you practice gratitude? If so, how does it affect your life? If not, why not? How does that affect your life?

Forgivenesses #2

I began the year considering the role of forgiveness in my life.  That consideration continues.

As I move forward through this year, I am entering a phase of significant change in my life. I will leave behind a legacy of some sort. My fear is that it will be one of failure or one attached to negative feelings. One of those left behind has been a challenge to my sense of cooperation and camaraderie, as I apparently have been to them. Where does that leave me in the journey of forgiveness?

Unlike the author of the quote, I believe forgiveness is a significant piece of our journey and not necessarily its core. When we can forgive others and ourselves, when we can ask forgiveness and be content if it comes or does not, the rest of our experiences are simpler, more focused. It is difficult, if not impossible, to love when we harbor ill will against others or against ourselves. We often gnaw on that ill will, attempting to justify it or reconcile it to the rightness of our actions. For me, the central point is forgiving ~ reaching that point when I can open my hand and no longer cling to my desire to wound. Yet, I acknowledge that there are times when being forgiven by others is impossible. We have no power to force it.

In answer to my own question in the previous paragraph: where does that leave me? It leaves me with the struggle and desire to open my hand, to let loose the reins of discontent with another, to wish them well on their journey and mean it. That will lead to my own healing in the end.

Where are you in your journey of forgiveness? Is there someone against whom you harbor ill will? Why? Where in your body does that feeling live? Can you begin to open your hand? or your heart? or wherever you feel the tightness? If you can, and do, how does that feel?

Do Your Words Matter?

When I was very young, I didn't speak much. I watched others and waited to see what the next event would be. Words mattered only slightly because I lived in a different world: one where every presence was noticed and colorful.

When I got a little older, I thought my words mattered. I thought others should listen to what I had to say because it was deep and ponderous and important. I still spoke little. And often people did listen because I'd spent years paying attention and learning. Much of what I said made sense.

Then I realized that what I said, my words, didn't matter as much as the meaning and force of them did. Sound contradictory? In a general way, it is. Over the years, I began to see my self as important as the deliverer of the significant words. One day, it struck me that it wasn't me ~ or any one person ~ who was the all-important deliverer of the words, it was how the words were formed, how they struck the soul, that made all the difference in the world.

What about you? Do your words matter? Why? or Why not?