During a birthdayparty of a dear friend who is suffering of a very severe illness, we were outside in the garden. She kindly had asked us to just enjoy the time being together and not focussing on her health but just celebrating the day with her, sharing a good time, which we did. The sun began to set and for a last moment was shining in full light through the branches of a beautiful evergreen holm oak tree on her and some friends who were standing in front of the tree. I took a photo of this magic moment. Miraculously, my camara made God´s rays visible; the group embracing my sick friend was immersed in a bell of light rays, fragmented in all the colors of the rainbow, enveloping this small group of four or five friends like a cloud of divine light showering over them. My friend was right in the center, laughing in joy and happyness, enjoying the very moment of having her son and all her friends with her. It was a magic moment of awe and Grace where we all were gifted with sensing the stilness and presence of eternal Love.
All my heart is with her and with all who suffer of a severe illness. Gods colorful, radiating and healing rays may be with you all, strengthen you and open the way to being healed by His Love.
Beautiful, Ose! I can imagine that photo from your description, and I can also feel the joy that was shared. Healing light to your friend and all others who need it.
What a beautiful,
heartfelt story,
dear Ose . . .
your friend
must feel very blessed
in spite of her illness,
to have so much tenderhearted love surrounding her.
Her birthday
was a magical, healing experience
for all who attended,
I am sure,
spread out and increased
by those who love her . . .
thank you so much,
for sharing those intimate moments with us . . .
I feel honored. ♥
Nothing I have seen in person recently but my son has been sending several photos of his time in Costa Rica . Today he was in a volcanic hot spring river which was steaming and he thought was like 88 degrees. Pictures of monkey are cute too!
. . . the robins,
of course.
From the first moment
seeing those four brilliant turquoise eggs in the nest,
just outside my back door.
The mother
sitting on the nest,
and setting up the alarm
every time I went outside or in,
finally,
over two weeks,
softening to a token chatter
when she realized I live here too
and mean her no harm. . . .
then,
the naked, tufted pink hatchlings emerge from their shells
one by one,
helpless and blind,
heads wobbling on rubbery necks.
I’d peek daily
and watch them grow,
miraculously,
eyes opening,
bright and black,
flying feathers gradually replacing the fluff,
mother
frantically flying back and forth with worms
to feed her demanding brood,
fattening them for their futures,
overflowing the nest with wings and tails,
the bigger they grow
looking at me silently but intently
each time I’d go in or out . . .
and then one day
they fledged
and I missed it.
The nest is empty,
clean and soft
as if never used.
Now
I imagine them
settled in the trees
discovering new wonders every day,
getting on with the excitement of their sudden,
brand new lives.
What is one thing I experienced recently that opened me to a sense of wonder or awe?
My neighbor’s “volunteer” magnolia is leaning on my tool shed… getting bigger all the time. How big are the roots by now? How hard would it be to just rip it out of the ground and be done with it, I ask myself.
Just as I glanced over to envision myself uprooting it, I was stunned by the sight of an enormous blossom on one of the low branches–as perfect as a Georgia O’Keefe painting. I was almost reluctant to breathe, for fear of disturbing its elegance. A volunteer, after all–volunteering to beautify my world, never asking a thing from me.
There is a humble little plant growing in my yard. It has very fine levels and is covered with flowers that are so small they look like little white dots until you get on your hands and knees and look at them closely. On close inspection, you can see the pretty little flowers for what they are. Every time I all past it, I am in awe of how diverse and beautiful nature is.
Our yard has bushes that absolutely hum with bees when the blossoms come out. Some are my berry bushes, with obvious flowers. We have one big bush put in as part of the house’s original landscaping that I didn’t think had any flowers at all so I didn’t understand why the bees paid attention to it. On looking at it more closely I realized it has thousands of tiny, tiny flowers that almost match the leaves. The bees find them, though! The whole bush was absolutely alive with so many bees, humming peacefully, each of them finding what it needed. No fighting over a flower; if two happened to head for the same flower head one bee would veer off to another. These were several varieties of native bees. The orange-bottomed bumblebee was especially striking.
I could stand right next to this bush full of creatures that carry stingers for self-defense at no risk of being harmed. They were intent on their work and I wasn’t threatening them. The humming is hypnotic, like listening to a whole hive. I’ve recently watched a couple of documentaries about bees to learn more because I know how much our whole food system–our lives–relies on them and other pollinators. They’re amazing.
My berry bushes are done blooming, as is this big bush, and the bees are on to other food, including my potato and tomato blossoms. Nothing draws a swarm quite like those bushes, though, so this was a relatively brief seasonal experience. I’ll be watching for it again next year and every year.
You mentioning how their humming is hypnotic made me think of a pranayama practice called Bhrahmari, which translates to “bees breath.” Basically, you plug your ears, inhale slowly, and hum on a slow exhale. It’s good for so many things, but most use it to calm their nervous system… kinda hypnotic in a sense!
Barb C, when my husband is up in his wheelchair, he loves to cruise it out in front of our house where the Russian Sage bush is blooming, and he sits right next to it and watches the bees and listens to them hum. Like you, he is not fearful of being stung.
Last week, I was outside in my yard when I heard something land on the leaves of the Valerian plants near me. I looked and saw a shimmering globule, clear and glistening in the sun. I was puzzled, and amazed. What could this be? A few weeks earlier, I had seen a puzzling blue line on the same plants, which turned out to be a bug (I looked it up and I think it was a blue damselfly). Could this be another new bug that I had never seen? Or a miraculous jewel that had dropped from the sky? At the words “dropped from the sky”, I suddenly realized that inside the clear shimmering globule was also some area of white coloration. And I realized that it was bird poop!! Once I realized what it was, I did not feel so much wonder and awe, but I still remember that entranced feeling I had before I realized. A few hours later I looked again, and indeed, there was that dry white streak on the leaves of the Valerian that I am used to associating with what bird poop looks like. 😂
A pronghorn crossed the road in front of me as I was biking the other day. I’ve always been fascinated by these animals–their beauty, curiosity, and speed. This one didn’t cross at full speed, but it did put its head down and move with a type gait that I hadn’t noticed in a pronghorn before. Turns out they have at least 13 distinct gaits. I remain in awe of these creatures and this moment.
I was amazed at the various colors of snapdragons in a small vase on our kitchen table. The complexity of their shape and the fact that I could pinch them and their “mouths” opened wide and revealed the yellow pollen sack.
I catch glimpses of wonder and awe quite often. It’s mostly nature or geology that stops me. I’ll often take a photo, but it rarely catches the scope or lighting or whatever made me stop and take notice. But I’m okay with that.
There are a few old oak trees around here, where I live. They are amazing. Beautiful, massive, sprawling, and ancient. I wonder if anyone else notices these incredible sentinels.
The power of forgiveness that heals inflicted injury and mounting love. Recently, I experienced a misunderstanding of a “cold war” between my dad and me. Eventually, his love for me and my love for him helped solve our problem. I’m fortunate! ❤
My Ngoc, unfortunately, it’s very commonplace in high-context settings. I saw and remember that, and I’m glad everything worked out. I knew it would. I’m glad we can speak things out and let it go like clouds passing in the sky just like in the “Dancing in the Rain” meditation I did this morning from Soothing Pod.
I was watching a Carolina Wren fledgling at the studio the other day. He was so cute and still kind of fuzzy. My friend and I weren’t sure he could fly, and he really looked sad. We were pretty sure he either fell from the tree in front of the studio or flew into the glass. We heard a bird in the tree and were pretty sure that bird was trying to encourage the little guy. My friend watched out for him while I checked in students and took a class. We had contacted a bird rescue just in case, but they weren’t concerned based on the photos, so we were hoping for the best. He made his way onto a bench outside our studio by the time the 2nd class was over, and we weren’t sure what to do since we were leaving soon and didn’t want to leave him out there alone. The studio is in a busy center with restaurants, a hotel and apartment complex that is dog friendly, so there are always people walking their pups. We were inside watching him through the window, trying to figure out the next step, and suddenly he started flapping his little wings. He was on the bench flapping for a few seconds and finally he lifted off and flew right up into the tree. It was like a little miracle, and Ellie and I both started to cry. We were so happy and grateful!
I feel a bit of connection with the Carolina Wrens, especially after having to bury those 3 little babies a few months ago. I was praying for that little bird while in yoga class the other night. It was so wonderful to watch him fly!
Thanks for sharing this beautiful experience, Sunnypatti! I didn’t know that there was such a thing as a bird rescue. I recently had a bird experience that did not turn out as well as this one did, so it makes me happy to read this.
I was happy when I learned there were at least 2 in my area. There was one when I was in Charleston as well, so it seems like something you should be able to find should you ever need assistance. I hope I don’t have to reach out again, but grateful they are there!
I am a student of wrens.
When the mother bird returns
to her brood, beak squirming
with winged breakfast, a shrill
clamor rises like jingling
from tiny, high-pitched bells.
Who’d have guessed such a small
house contained so many voices?
The sound they make is the pure sound
of life’s hunger. Who hangs our house
in the world’s branches, and listens
when we sing from our hunger?
Because I love best those songs
that shake the house of the singer,
I am a student of wrens.
With Ngoc returning home, my life feels back to normal. No reliance on backstage politics for awhile. Enjoying every moment with her brings a sense of aw. Today, she and I get to go out on a dinner date to Kyuramen, a fancy Japanese restaurant. Not only that, my creative juices have returned as well.
I’ve been back to having ideas for collaborative Vietnamese poetry and putting out different types of poems.
Give yourself the gift of free bi-monthly inspiration including uplifting articles, diverse stories, supportive practices, videos, and more, delivered with heart to your inbox.
During a birthdayparty of a dear friend who is suffering of a very severe illness, we were outside in the garden. She kindly had asked us to just enjoy the time being together and not focussing on her health but just celebrating the day with her, sharing a good time, which we did. The sun began to set and for a last moment was shining in full light through the branches of a beautiful evergreen holm oak tree on her and some friends who were standing in front of the tree. I took a photo of this magic moment. Miraculously, my camara made God´s rays visible; the group embracing my sick friend was immersed in a bell of light rays, fragmented in all the colors of the rainbow, enveloping this small group of four or five friends like a cloud of divine light showering over them. My friend was right in the center, laughing in joy and happyness, enjoying the very moment of having her son and all her friends with her. It was a magic moment of awe and Grace where we all were gifted with sensing the stilness and presence of eternal Love.
All my heart is with her and with all who suffer of a severe illness. Gods colorful, radiating and healing rays may be with you all, strengthen you and open the way to being healed by His Love.
Oh that sounds so beautiful, thank you for sharing 💕
this made me cry, so beautifully described. Thank you Ose.
Beautiful, Ose! I can imagine that photo from your description, and I can also feel the joy that was shared. Healing light to your friend and all others who need it.
Wow I can completely imagine the moment by your description. Thank you for sharing and may your friend feel the healing powers.
What a beautiful,
heartfelt story,
dear Ose . . .
your friend
must feel very blessed
in spite of her illness,
to have so much tenderhearted love surrounding her.
Her birthday
was a magical, healing experience
for all who attended,
I am sure,
spread out and increased
by those who love her . . .
thank you so much,
for sharing those intimate moments with us . . .
I feel honored. ♥
Very thoughtful of her, Ose. The present sure is a gift.
Nothing I have seen in person recently but my son has been sending several photos of his time in Costa Rica . Today he was in a volcanic hot spring river which was steaming and he thought was like 88 degrees. Pictures of monkey are cute too!
. . . the robins,
of course.
From the first moment
seeing those four brilliant turquoise eggs in the nest,
just outside my back door.
The mother
sitting on the nest,
and setting up the alarm
every time I went outside or in,
finally,
over two weeks,
softening to a token chatter
when she realized I live here too
and mean her no harm. . . .
then,
the naked, tufted pink hatchlings emerge from their shells
one by one,
helpless and blind,
heads wobbling on rubbery necks.
I’d peek daily
and watch them grow,
miraculously,
eyes opening,
bright and black,
flying feathers gradually replacing the fluff,
mother
frantically flying back and forth with worms
to feed her demanding brood,
fattening them for their futures,
overflowing the nest with wings and tails,
the bigger they grow
looking at me silently but intently
each time I’d go in or out . . .
and then one day
they fledged
and I missed it.
The nest is empty,
clean and soft
as if never used.
Now
I imagine them
settled in the trees
discovering new wonders every day,
getting on with the excitement of their sudden,
brand new lives.
The wonder
never goes away.
What is one thing I experienced recently that opened me to a sense of wonder or awe?
My neighbor’s “volunteer” magnolia is leaning on my tool shed… getting bigger all the time. How big are the roots by now? How hard would it be to just rip it out of the ground and be done with it, I ask myself.
Just as I glanced over to envision myself uprooting it, I was stunned by the sight of an enormous blossom on one of the low branches–as perfect as a Georgia O’Keefe painting. I was almost reluctant to breathe, for fear of disturbing its elegance. A volunteer, after all–volunteering to beautify my world, never asking a thing from me.
I love magnolia trees and especially how the blossoms smell so sweet. What a nice gift from Mother Nature!
“I was almost reluctant to breathe, for fear of disturbing its elegance.”
I’ve never heard of a volunteer magnolia . . .
it is a gift to you
from the Universe,
dear Terry. ♥
Last night’s full moon. Stunning, so beautiful.
Majestic. 🌕♥️
There is a humble little plant growing in my yard. It has very fine levels and is covered with flowers that are so small they look like little white dots until you get on your hands and knees and look at them closely. On close inspection, you can see the pretty little flowers for what they are. Every time I all past it, I am in awe of how diverse and beautiful nature is.
We see so much more,
dear Richard,
when we pay attention
and look more closely,
don’t we? ♥
The bees, the bees!
Our yard has bushes that absolutely hum with bees when the blossoms come out. Some are my berry bushes, with obvious flowers. We have one big bush put in as part of the house’s original landscaping that I didn’t think had any flowers at all so I didn’t understand why the bees paid attention to it. On looking at it more closely I realized it has thousands of tiny, tiny flowers that almost match the leaves. The bees find them, though! The whole bush was absolutely alive with so many bees, humming peacefully, each of them finding what it needed. No fighting over a flower; if two happened to head for the same flower head one bee would veer off to another. These were several varieties of native bees. The orange-bottomed bumblebee was especially striking.
I could stand right next to this bush full of creatures that carry stingers for self-defense at no risk of being harmed. They were intent on their work and I wasn’t threatening them. The humming is hypnotic, like listening to a whole hive. I’ve recently watched a couple of documentaries about bees to learn more because I know how much our whole food system–our lives–relies on them and other pollinators. They’re amazing.
My berry bushes are done blooming, as is this big bush, and the bees are on to other food, including my potato and tomato blossoms. Nothing draws a swarm quite like those bushes, though, so this was a relatively brief seasonal experience. I’ll be watching for it again next year and every year.
What an experience
their annual visit must be,
dear Barb! ♥
You mentioning how their humming is hypnotic made me think of a pranayama practice called Bhrahmari, which translates to “bees breath.” Basically, you plug your ears, inhale slowly, and hum on a slow exhale. It’s good for so many things, but most use it to calm their nervous system… kinda hypnotic in a sense!
Thank you for this. It sounds like a wonderful practice.
Barb C, when my husband is up in his wheelchair, he loves to cruise it out in front of our house where the Russian Sage bush is blooming, and he sits right next to it and watches the bees and listens to them hum. Like you, he is not fearful of being stung.
Last week, I was outside in my yard when I heard something land on the leaves of the Valerian plants near me. I looked and saw a shimmering globule, clear and glistening in the sun. I was puzzled, and amazed. What could this be? A few weeks earlier, I had seen a puzzling blue line on the same plants, which turned out to be a bug (I looked it up and I think it was a blue damselfly). Could this be another new bug that I had never seen? Or a miraculous jewel that had dropped from the sky? At the words “dropped from the sky”, I suddenly realized that inside the clear shimmering globule was also some area of white coloration. And I realized that it was bird poop!! Once I realized what it was, I did not feel so much wonder and awe, but I still remember that entranced feeling I had before I realized. A few hours later I looked again, and indeed, there was that dry white streak on the leaves of the Valerian that I am used to associating with what bird poop looks like. 😂
great story!
Thank you for the out loud chuckle, Elizabeth!
I wish my laptop had the little laughing emoji… that’s good stuff, Elizabeth!
There is still wonder and awe
in bird poop,
dear Elizabeth . . . 🙂
A pronghorn crossed the road in front of me as I was biking the other day. I’ve always been fascinated by these animals–their beauty, curiosity, and speed. This one didn’t cross at full speed, but it did put its head down and move with a type gait that I hadn’t noticed in a pronghorn before. Turns out they have at least 13 distinct gaits. I remain in awe of these creatures and this moment.
What has always amazed me with pronghorns is how shortly after birth the little ones become speedsters!
Ah, another thing I would like to see! Only rarely have I seen young ones.
I had to look up pronghorns… they are beautiful! Kinda like deer, but different markings and horns. They are obviously not in the Southeast US!
I was amazed at the various colors of snapdragons in a small vase on our kitchen table. The complexity of their shape and the fact that I could pinch them and their “mouths” opened wide and revealed the yellow pollen sack.
snapdragons are so beautiful
Snapdragons remind me of my maternal Grandma Lela Mae Cope Warren. Thank you Yram.
Oh, snapdragons are beautiful. Love this time of year when they bloom.
I catch glimpses of wonder and awe quite often. It’s mostly nature or geology that stops me. I’ll often take a photo, but it rarely catches the scope or lighting or whatever made me stop and take notice. But I’m okay with that.
There are a few old oak trees around here, where I live. They are amazing. Beautiful, massive, sprawling, and ancient. I wonder if anyone else notices these incredible sentinels.
I love our big old oak trees with Spanish moss down here in Florida. I would love to eventually one day see the Redwoods.
Yes Charlie, I notice the big oak trees in my neck of the woods as well. I revere the big old trees, especially Redwoods. ♥️
You’re right,
dear Charlie . . .
photographs
can rarely capture the moment
exactly as it is . . .♥
The power of forgiveness that heals inflicted injury and mounting love. Recently, I experienced a misunderstanding of a “cold war” between my dad and me. Eventually, his love for me and my love for him helped solve our problem. I’m fortunate! ❤
My Ngoc, unfortunately, it’s very commonplace in high-context settings. I saw and remember that, and I’m glad everything worked out. I knew it would. I’m glad we can speak things out and let it go like clouds passing in the sky just like in the “Dancing in the Rain” meditation I did this morning from Soothing Pod.
I was watching a Carolina Wren fledgling at the studio the other day. He was so cute and still kind of fuzzy. My friend and I weren’t sure he could fly, and he really looked sad. We were pretty sure he either fell from the tree in front of the studio or flew into the glass. We heard a bird in the tree and were pretty sure that bird was trying to encourage the little guy. My friend watched out for him while I checked in students and took a class. We had contacted a bird rescue just in case, but they weren’t concerned based on the photos, so we were hoping for the best. He made his way onto a bench outside our studio by the time the 2nd class was over, and we weren’t sure what to do since we were leaving soon and didn’t want to leave him out there alone. The studio is in a busy center with restaurants, a hotel and apartment complex that is dog friendly, so there are always people walking their pups. We were inside watching him through the window, trying to figure out the next step, and suddenly he started flapping his little wings. He was on the bench flapping for a few seconds and finally he lifted off and flew right up into the tree. It was like a little miracle, and Ellie and I both started to cry. We were so happy and grateful!
What a lovely experience of the Carolina wren,
dear Sunnypatti . . .
it always warms my heart
when they prevail. 🙂
I feel a bit of connection with the Carolina Wrens, especially after having to bury those 3 little babies a few months ago. I was praying for that little bird while in yoga class the other night. It was so wonderful to watch him fly!
Thanks for sharing this beautiful experience, Sunnypatti! I didn’t know that there was such a thing as a bird rescue. I recently had a bird experience that did not turn out as well as this one did, so it makes me happy to read this.
I was happy when I learned there were at least 2 in my area. There was one when I was in Charleston as well, so it seems like something you should be able to find should you ever need assistance. I hope I don’t have to reach out again, but grateful they are there!
Coincidentally, one of the poems posted on July 11 on A Year of Being Here is about wrens and it seems to fit today’s question: https://www.ayearofbeinghere.com/2014/07/thomas-r-smith-baby-wrens-voices.html
“Baby Wrens’ Voices”
Thomas R. Smith
I am a student of wrens.
When the mother bird returns
to her brood, beak squirming
with winged breakfast, a shrill
clamor rises like jingling
from tiny, high-pitched bells.
Who’d have guessed such a small
house contained so many voices?
The sound they make is the pure sound
of life’s hunger. Who hangs our house
in the world’s branches, and listens
when we sing from our hunger?
Because I love best those songs
that shake the house of the singer,
I am a student of wrens.
That’s really nice. Thank you!
♥
This is so heartwarming! Glad the little bird lifted off.
It was a moment of pure joy 🙂
With Ngoc returning home, my life feels back to normal. No reliance on backstage politics for awhile. Enjoying every moment with her brings a sense of aw. Today, she and I get to go out on a dinner date to Kyuramen, a fancy Japanese restaurant. Not only that, my creative juices have returned as well.
I’ve been back to having ideas for collaborative Vietnamese poetry and putting out different types of poems.
Lovely Loc please post some of your work ! Congratulations!
Antoinette, I’ll certainly keep that in mind.
Seeing 4 baby peacocks last week, sooooo cute!
TGIF 🙂