Takes The Cake

Our magnificent peony plant is blooming!

Peonies date to at least 1,000 B.C. These long-lived plants, some of which are known to survive for as long as 100 years, are prized for their sturdy foliage, lush blooms and sweet scent. Early American settlers brought peony plants across the ocean and planted them on American soil to remind them of the homes they had left behind.

The blossoms are opening and I am in peony heaven. They are so laden with petals they droop downwards and need support. I have never seen such a beautiful flower. I said that when I first saw a dahlia bloom the size of a football, then a fuschia with its deep purple and neon pink hanging blossoms, and then a bleeding heart. But the peony takes the cake. To look into the heart and face of this flower is to look into the face of the Divine here on earth. It is a flower that carries strong healing properties. To meditate looking into the face of a peony is said to realign the chakras and heal at the deepest soul level.

Peony as Medicine

The ancient Chinese discovered that the peony's bark, roots, seeds and flowers served as medicine. Mu Dan Pi, a remedy made from the bark of the tree peony, was believed to cool the blood and provide antiseptic properties. Chi Shao Yao, made from the roots of the herbaceous peony, was believed to cool the blood and provide pain relief. When the peony was brought to Europe in the 1200s, it was used to ease childbirth, ward off evil spirits and cure gallstones. Although peonies have been used continually in traditional Eastern medicine, they have not been used in Western medicine since medieval times. The buds and leaves of the peony are used in China to make a delicate white tea which many believe to have medicinal qualities.

The peony is China's national flower.

Together with the plum blossom, the peony is a national floral symbol of the country of China. The Chinese name for peony means "beautiful" and in Chinese culture the flowers represent riches, prosperity and honor. In Western culture, the peony serves as the symbol for the 12th wedding anniversary, and in the language of flowers, represents good fortune and a happy marriage. In Victorian times, it might also have represented bashfulness, since mischievous nymphs were said to hide in its magnificent petals.

I want to have a yard full of peonies, bleeding hearts, fuchsias, camellias, roses, lilacs, dahlias, jasmine, wisteria, wild flowers, gardenias, and honeysuckle. I want to live immersed in the healing power of flowers. Don't you?

Art Imitating Life

I took my favorite picture of Guadalupe off the wall and carried it all around, trying to get a good shot in the early morning light. Millions of people make pilgrimages every year to this very same image which hangs in the Basilica of Guadalupe, Mexico City. In the year 1541, Juan Diego was visited by Our Lady of Guadalupe and she emblazoned her sacred image on his tilma. Scholars and scientists have studied the cloth and the paint pigment and they cannot identify from what it is made. It is still a mystery. I couldn't find an angle where I wasn't wrapped in the folds of her cloak. I guess it is just art imitating life.

Here is what she told Juan Diego when she appeared to him on that December morning in 1541.

"I wish that a temple be erected here quickly, so I may therein exhibit and give all my love, compassion, help, and protection. Because I am your merciful mother, to you, and to all the inhabitants on this land and all the rest who love me, invoke and confide in me; to listen there to their lamentations, and remedy all their miseries, afflictions and sorrows. And to accomplish what my clemency pretends, go to the palace of the bishop of Mexico, and you will say to him that I manifest my great desire, that here on this plain a temple be built to me."

Words of Our Lady to Juan Diego

Reflection

Sunday is my day for reflection. How have I lived my life during the past week. Have I been awake, loving, compassionate? Did I practice Do unto others as you would have them do unto you? It's hard to admit how many times I have found myself asleep at the wheel, I've felt angry, I've turned away when compassion was called for. One particular area where I have so much work to do is with the beggars of Eugene. On almost every corner here, there is a beggar. They all have tattered cardboard signs with sad stories written on them. Homeless vet, hungry, hopeless, etc. One sign said "Obama wants change, I'll settle for a buck." When you approach them at stoplights, they look right into your eyes and wait for money. This makes me feel uncomfortable and guilty. A woman once told me she never gives them money, begging is their job and they do for a living. I don't know what to think. Sometimes I give them money, usually I don't. Mother Teresa said Jesus is in the beggar. Am I turning away from Jesus when I don't give them money? I wrestle with this. It's always a struggle. Yesterday I was walking down the street and a rather well dressed man sitting on a bench stopped me and said "miss, may I talk to you for a minute?" I stopped and he said "I am homeless and hungry and I wonder if you have some spare change so I could get something to eat?" I dug in my purse and found forty six cents. I gave it to him. That was all I had. He said thank you and I walked away. Today I am reflecting on how to tell which beggar is Jesus in disguise, testing me; and which beggar is career begging. Is there a difference?

A Sign

Four summers ago, my son Luke and I took a road trip to Oregon. Eugene, specifically. We had spent a year researching the internet to find a locale that suited all of our needs, both individually and collectively. We wanted a place to call home that offered music, arts, progressive minds, social consciousness, water, sustainability, an abundance of organic produce and flowers, bicycle paths, universities, moderate climate, rain, and green. A place where ocean, desert, snow, and fertile valley are all within an hour's drive from each other. A land of lakes and rivers. A land of abundance. One of our days there, we drove to Cottage Grove, where our yurt was built, and decided to look at land there. We pulled into the parking lot of an obscure real estate company and parked the car. There, across the street, on the side of old dilapidated building, facing a parking lot, sixteen feet high, was this image of Guadalupe. Before I could do anything, I had to get across the street and stand before this magnificent mural. She was glorious. I went around the front of the building to see for myself who would have this image on the side of their building, in their parking lot. Was I surprised! It was the grungiest, seediest, alcohol-and-tobacco store I have ever seen in my life. That's all they sold. Maybe they had some of those little neon orange crackers with peanut butter in the middle, I'm not sure. I went to the counter and asked the clerk about Guadalupe. There was a man in town, he told me, that just painted murals of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Out of all of the wonderful things we saw that trip, this was the sign for me that Oregon was our home.

Mother Teresa

I have loved Mother Teresa for as long as I can remember. I am not Catholic, I am not a member of any organized religion, but I think I can spot a saint when I see one. I have always been held spellbound by those who come to earth and radiate divinity. I love the way it makes me feel when I walk across their path. I love the fragrance, the beauty, the rarefied atmosphere surrounding their physical forms. Last summer I reconnected in cyberspace with a beautiful soul I had know in high school. After a few messages sent back and forth I mentioned my love for Mother Teresa. Not long after, this beautiful oil painting came in the mail. A treasure, for sure. Pure gold. DeDe loved this painting yet she sent it to me. Thank you DeDe.
DeDe has been an artist for as long as I can remember. We first met when we were teenagers taking an art class together in high school. Her work then, and her work now, radiates a sweet divinity. Its purity reaches out and touches the heart and soul.


Here is her website, take a look:
www.dedeshamelsartandframesetc.atomicshops.com
Click on DeDe's originals and see the sweetness for yourself.

I found this poem written by Mother Teresa and I saw it fitting to pass along.



DO IT ANYWAY
People are often unreasonable,
illogical and self-centered;
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind,
people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful,
you will win some false friends and true enemies;
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank,
people may cheat you;
Be honest anyway.

What you spend years building,
someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness,
they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today,
people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have,
and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis,
it is between you and God;
It was never between you and them anyway.
Mother Teresa
1910-1997

Tree Heart

This morning I startled awake. A part of myself, somewhat uncertain of my particular role in the order of the universe, wondered in a trembling way, for what purpose am I here? Oh no, not this uncertainty again, I say to myself. Once again I am faced with the question that has followed me for most of my adult life. I have two perspectives going on inside of me. One is my earthbound self. This is somewhat familiar. I'm a family member, a community member, a citizen of the planet Earth. Still, having played this role for quite a few years, I find myself secretly wondering........what really am I supposed to be doing here and am I doing it? The perspective from my other vantage point is a bit more perplexing. I stand on the outer rim of our galaxy and gaze at the bigger picture. It's really huge, what lays before me, and even with the strongest binoculars, I am unable to see my spot on the map. My tiny planet. My country, my town, my home. Not even a speck. Where do the two perspectives intersect? Where is the bridge between heaven and earth? Everything that seems so huge and overwhelming on earth seems so small and insignificant while standing out here in space. I pondered this for a while then got out of bed, opened my curtains, and saw this right outside my window. I take this as a sign, an answer, until next time I find myself trembling with uncertainty. There is a tree in my front yard with a perfect heart in the trunk where one tree split into two. There, standing on the outer rim of the heart, is a little statue of Mother Mary. I put Her there weeks ago not realizing then I was leaving myself an answer to a question not yet asked. Love and compassion is the work, the bridge between heaven and earth, regardless of which role we play. Doctor, lawyer, Indian Chief. It's not what we do, our job, or our career, it's what is in the heart. Her presence atop the tree heart makes this so clear. Wishing you a heart filled with love and compassion on this day and every day.

The Promise

I have lived in the desert my entire life. My recent move to the Pacific Northwest has brought many surprises. One of them is Spring. What I am accustomed to by this calendar date is shorts, tee shirts, and getting the evaporative cooler ready for the searing, unbearable, hot days just around the corner. Maybe already here. Where I live now, the high temps have been mostly in the fifties. Our pellet stove runs constantly and as I write it's going at full blast. Three blankets on the bed and thermal underwear are my constant companions. I won't lie, there has been one handful of days where it warmed up a little and the promise of spring was dangled like a carrot before me. However chilly it may feel to a desert implant, all living flowering beings are out dressed in their finest glory. There is a magnificence in flowers unparalleled by anything else on the planet. Flowers whisper secret messages to your soul when you aren't even aware. Eugene is all about flowers right now, flowers everywhere. Flower heaven. This sweet globe of a bud is a peony. It lives right outside my window. I have never seen a peony in bloom (what a sheltered life) but to me, this bud holds the promise. If the bud is this beautiful, what does the blossom hold? I can hardly wait. Maybe the blossom is waiting for Spring. I know I am.