Category Archives: Purpose

THE THUMPER RULE

December 2, 2015

MY GUIDING BUNNY

Some people have Spiritual Guides in human form–counselors, priests, pastors, teachers. Some people have Spiritual Guides in the form of Spirit Beings, like Angels or other Beings of Light.

I have Animals. Sometimes real ones. A dragonfly brought me a message one spring day when I was trying to resolve a problem. She flew right up to me and hovered about a foot from my face…she just stayed there until finally the “aha!” broke through to my consciousness; then she flew off.  Another day  when I was particularly edgy and cantankerous I went for a walk and inadvertently walked into the middle of an entire herd of deer. Deer Medicine is all about Gentleness and Grace. I stood stock-still, with silent tears rolling down my face. Two young ones actually walked towards me, stopping about eight or ten yards away. After about 15 minutes, they all slowly wandered off and I went home, gentled, graced and peace-filled.

But my Animal Guides aren’t always real.  I have a Tiger and a Bear and a Wolf in my Mind’s menagerie. The Tiger’s name is Jack and he’s the one teaching me that there aren’t any parts of my Self that I need to kill off…it’s more about integrating. He’s taught me that Ego’s aren’t monsters that we need to keep caged somewhere deep in the dungeons of our psyche. They just need to learn when to move over and let the more Enlightened One of Us drive the bus.

But this isn’t about Wolves and Tigers and Bears. No. This is about a Bunny. Yesterday, Thumper got loose from the Bambi set and came wandering into my bathroom. I had just scrubbed the floor an hour previously, but there I was wiping up a pile of whiskers. Evidently my husband had dumped the whisker bin from his electric razor mostly on the floor, with some on the toilet seat and in the sink, just to keep it interesting. I think he meant to put it in the wastebasket, but he was probably looking at something else, his brain three steps ahead of his body. Sometimes his brain is actually out the door and three blocks down the street before his body leaves the house. You can imagine what he doesn’t notice then! Frowning, I could feel my body tense as my mind furiously wrote up the negative incident report that I would surely deliver as soon as he came upstairs.

Suddenly, there was Thumper, shyly peeking out from behind the wastebasket.

I eyed him suspiciously.

“Hello,” said Thumper.

Wow, I thought. I haven’t seen Bambi in maybe, oh, 25 years?

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Well, ummm, I just came to remind you what my father taught me. It’s pretty good advice, ” said Thumper.

He ducked his head shyly. His foot started nervously thumping. And I remembered.

“If you can’t say somethin’ nice, don’t say nothin’ at all,” said Thumper and I. Together.

“You know this one?” asked Thumper.

“Yeah. I guess I do,” I said.

“Cool!” said Thumper. He loped out of the bathroom. Then he quick stuck his head back around the door-frame. “Don’t forget, now!” he said.

And he was gone.

I finished cleaning up the bathroom and joined my husband in the kitchen where he was making smoothies. I opened my mouth…

“Remember!” whispered an invisible Thumper.

I shut my mouth.

I never mentioned the whisker mess.

Not once.

I have been thinking a lot about my new Thumper Rule. My life will be so much more amazing because my focus will be on all the good stuff. I’ll bet I’ll smile more. I might even discover humor in the nooks and crannies of my life.

Thumper never said ‘If you can’t say something nice to someone…’. He simply said, ‘If you can’t say something nice…’ Period. About anything or anyone or to yourself.

Does that include the weather do you think? And stupid drivers? And insurance regulations? OMG–does it include politicians?!

I just finished writing a letter to someone because they had written one to me and it required a response. It took me 4 days. I had to keep applying my new Thumper Rule so I had to keep deleting shit–stuff– and re-framing, ah–stuff, and…Whew! What an exercise! It was like running a fucking–um–an exhausting–marathon. But different.

IF YOU CAN’T SAY SOMETHING NICE, DON’T SAY NOTHING AT ALL…

 

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ON BEING UNWILLING TO FULFILL OUR PURPOSE

Reposted from December, 2011…

SAYING “YES” TO LIVING…

June 11, 2015

I am cleaning up my older blogs that underwent a transfer from Blogspot to WordPress when I made the switch last year…I had not realized how many had carried all their computer-language into the main body…what a mess! In the process, I came across this little gem…I remember that day and that walk up the hill in the snow…  And it just seemed a fitting companion to this morning’s piece about coming to the end of the road…the last of our “somedays”.  It is early summer now as I re-post this, and winter is a long way off. It is NOW that we are called to plant and to prune, to tend and to harvest…

December 2, 2011

Yesterday I walked up the road to the tracks in an inch of fresh snow fallen during the night. A bright blue sky, sun diamonds at my feet and sparkling along the boughs of trees. A red-headed woodpecker inspected a tree I stood beside. Above me a family of little House Finches were playing musical chairs.

The morning was soft-spoken. A tree laden with brilliant orange berries hung over the road, backlit by the brilliant blue of the sky.

An apple tree came into view. A few dozen apples, grey and shriveled hung from the branches where they had lived the one life they had known. Each wore a little white cap of snow. Too afraid to give themselves to their greater purpose, they clung steadfastly to the first truth of life they had known. Though the time came to grow beyond the delight of summer sun and gentle rains and give themselves to nourish others—to experience falling into the hand of a child, or the pie-maker, or the embrace of Earth and the hungry Doe—they clung to their little branch until their time expired. There they remain, lifeless, swaying in the brilliant winter morning.

A wave of sadness washed gently over me. They would not share their life, but in their death they have inspired me to live without fear.