"Pay Attention!", Everything demands, tired of being ignored.

Unnoticed by eyes too focused on the opinion of others,

passed over due to humility of nature.

Everything beacons us to place importance 

and leaves us to decipher where true value lies.

Often in disguise, demanding ownership, quick to shift the blame.

The cup holds only so much, Everything cannot fit.

Dependent upon its size, only the chosen few find privilege there.

Room for some means others are left out, awaiting rediscovery.

Rearranging is necessary for life, organization leads to clarity.

Everything in its proper place will lead to flourishing.

Forgotten tools must be dusted off and polished once again. 

Honesty begs to be crowned, if we would only make allowance. 

Everything can then morph to reveal its true self. 

Then the real work begins.

Expectation

I can't bear the weight,

crushing under its merciless force.

Titles and status have been sought 

but conflict with the true self.

Should's and shouldn'ts haunt at every turn,

voices of deceit scream so loud.

The greatest enemy,

casting its net over everything.

Weeds that choke out life of what's inside.

What has to be pulled so that the sun can reach?

Who I see myself as and how others do never seem to line up.

Can't get a clear enough signal to download the program.

Life's gifts are clouded with guilt.

Selfishness inserts itself in every crevice. 

Who I am I to deserve attention and voice?

Anything I have to share is kept close at the expense of rotting.

Who will they know when I'm gone?

Will they even care?

Will they remember?

But more, will I be bold enough to share? 

They keep wanting to glue everything.
I suggested they go outside and pick some grass to glue onto paper.
They came back five minutes later with a basket full of grass and the heads of 7 of my tulips.
They held up their basket and said "Look what we got, Mom!", such proud looks on their faces.
I couldn't even be frustrated.

I had planted the bulbs last Fall with such care.
I had been debating if I should make arrangements to showcase on Instagram.
I had been trying to grow an array of floral and filler from seed for over a month with little success.

I don't want to keep up.

Why do we always feel the need to commercialize?
Why can't I build a quiet life, filled with simple joys that no one but the people around me see?
Why do we feel the need to share everything beautiful that happens in our lives?

I don't want to keep up.

I don't want to slap a title on something that brings me joy just to try make some money.
I don't want to try to differentiate myself from the next beautiful person,
 trying to take their passion to the next level.

It's beautiful that we have the ability to make our passions into a business.
It's wonderful that people can support their families by doing what they love.
It's great that there are platforms where people can showcase what they do on a daily basis.

But I don't want to keep up.

As Richard Rohr often says, "Great suffering often leads to great love".

I have found that just in the first week of this unprecedented time in our history,

I have often allowed my own suffering to overshadow the real and true suffering of this world.

The suffering I cause when I take words too personally and magnify actions too unjustly. 

The suffering I cause when I lament my feelings of being alone instead of press into them.

The suffering I cause when I allow my privileged circumstances to morph into ungratefulness.

I can easily get inside my head and analyze my own (and everyone else's) actions and non actions,

words spoken and things left unsaid. 

I can easily let my lofty expectations run away with my imagination, only to be let down by reality.

I can easily allow these situations to define my outlook, my attitude and the posture of my heart. 

_____

In this time of global suffering, I have found that perspective matters (but when doesn't it?).

Looking inwardly in a destructive manner never builds up. It only continues to tear down.

The only cure for my own inward destruction is outward solitude. 

Seeing the real suffering being experienced by every person, on some level, all around the world,

pulls me out of a downward spiral and moves me toward solidarity. 

Toward compassion. Toward realization. Toward love.

Sometimes I get far away from the spiral, but other times I seem to move one space.

This is all a practice but,

I typically expect myself to get things right the first time.

_____

Thankfully Great Love has a way of holding our hand, helping us to be patient with ourselves.

He gently cleanses our eyes to see clearly. He dusts us off and picks us up so we can try again.

Great Love and unmerited grace are synonymous. 

KLW