Resting and Being Still

To every season there is a time to every purpose...how often do we take seriously the time to rest?I have such a hard time being still and allowing myself to rest. I recently drove across country to spend a few weeks in the country at my parents' home. The house sits on four acres of wooded property overlooking a pond and a lovely grass-covered hill. The bull-frogs, toads, crickets and frogs lull you to sleep at night, and in the morning, a misty haze rises off of the pond. My days at my parents' home are slow and restful. I find my mind racing trying, telling me I should be home cleaning out closets or making lesson plans for the upcoming year. Yet, here I sit, spending my days playing games with my nephew, visiting with family, reading a book or just looking out at the birds and squirrels. I almost feel guilty not being home working.  Then I remind myself that resting and being still restores the spirit and my energy is renewed when I do return home to work.

I Love Little Books and Boxes

Patience from Glowing Heads on Vimeo.

On Vanity

THE TWO TREES
by: William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart,

The holy tree is growing there;

From joy the holy branches start,

And all the trembling flowers they bear.

The changing colours of its fruit

Have dowered the stars with merry light;

The surety of its hidden root

Has planted quiet in the night;

The shaking of its leafy head

Has given the waves their melody,

And made my lips and music wed,

Murmuring a wizard song for thee.

There the Loves a circle go,

The flaming circle of our days,

Gyring, spiring to and fro

In those great ignorant leafy ways;

Remembering all that shaken hair

And how the wingèd sandals dart,

Thine eyes grow full of tender care:

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.

 

Gaze no more in the bitter glass

The demons, with their subtle guile,

Lift up before us when they pass,

Or only gaze a little while;

For there a fatal image grows

That the stormy night receives,

Roots half hidden under snows,

Broken boughs and blackened leaves.

For all things turn to barrenness

In the dim glass the demons hold,

The glass of outer weariness,

Made when God slept in times of old.

There, through the broken branches, go

The ravens of unresting thought;

Flying, crying, to and fro,

Cruel claw and hungry throat,

Or else they stand and sniff the wind,

And shake their ragged wings; alas!

Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:

Gaze no more in the bitter glass.

"The Two Trees" is reprinted from The Rose. W.B. Yeats. 1893.

A Little Prayer

I woke up this morning and asked God what I could do better. This was the answer:

Eat less, pray more.
Think of others first.
Spend your time wisely.
Get off the computer.
Turn off the tv.
Read, listen, ponder, write.
Get out in nature.
Take walks in the woods.
Slow down.
Be still.
Show an increase of love towards others.
Get your house in order.
Don't spend money on that which is of no worth.
Be happy with what you have.
Give away what you don't use.
Simplify.

Love,
God