Snow Drops and The Good News

Hello lovely souls,

The past ten days have been one of those times when life gets lifey, when the hard side of the hard/beautiful balance tips the scale. Both of my parents have had significant health crises, hard most of all for them, but also for those of us who love them. 

I got caught up in the whirlwind of stress, and had to practice stepping off and finding the ground beneath my feet.  Remembering tools: breath, hand on heart, stillness, movement, music, concrete tasks like cooking and washing dishes, the power of water through a good soak, or even just washing my hands.

One of the most helpful tools for me this week was a writing assignment from my wonderful writing group. We were given the poem “The Good News” by Thich Nhat Hanh as an inspiration. (I’ll include the full poem at the end.) So there it was, I had to go seek beauty and practice what I preach.

This was not an exercise in toxic positivity. I felt the full impact of the life is hard side of the equation. But the invitation to consider the good news was an invitation to rebalance the scale and add to the beauty side.

Thich Nhat Hanh reminds us that good news is found in the moment, in noticing the world around us, and that this practice can make us free.

So in the midst of the hardness, I looked for beauty and this is what I found.

Snow Drops

The good news is that we have rain in abundance, and the levees hold.
The sky changes as the storms roll through
with glorious clouds in grey scale, punctuated with occasional blue and sunshine.
The good news is that it rained hard last night, and we opened the door while it poured.

The good news is that I have so many memories of my children growing up,
and this night I remembered when he stood in awe watching a downpour, 6 years old,
and said, hand on chest, “it rains so hard, it even beats my heart.”

The good news is that between the rains, the yard is full of nesting squirrels and mourning doves preparing for the next generation.
Soon the tom turkeys will be strutting their stuff, fanning their tails and dragging wing tips, dressed in ascots, ready to attract the ladies.

The good news is that on this past rainy weekend, this old girl walked a 5K.
Six months ago, she walked around one block with a walker.
On Saturday, she walked unaided for a few miles.
The good news is that when she walked over the drawbridge, it did not open,
thus quieting a childhood nightmare.

The good news is that as I write, I am accompanied by a random playlist that keeps throwing out Indigo Girls, Sarah McLachlan, Alanis Morrisette and Tracy Chapman for my own personal Lilith Fair revival.

The good news is that, reminded by my wife,
I stepped off the spinning wheel of the stress
of parental tandem health crises.
I stepped off long enough to breathe,
to remember the grounding power of my hand on my heart
and to set some loving boundaries for myself.
When I join the spin again, the good news is that stepping off will still be an option.

The good news is that even as some beloved lives are waning,
some are just beginning or getting to the really juicy parts.
The good news is that I get to witness the beginning of some of these new chapters.

The good news is that the snowdrops bloom again in the front garden,
even though I forget to divide them every year.
They’ve traveled for 35 years
from my grandmother’s last garden,
to my father’s garden,
to mine,
and every year they are faithful.

I invite you to consider your good news, even if, and especially if, you feel enmeshed in bad news. As Thich Nhat Hahn writes:

Leave behind your world of sorrow
and preoccupation
and get free.

If you would like to share your good news, or anything else, I’d love to hear about it in the comments.

Thanks for being here. Please share this post with folks who might be interested.

Lots of love,

Maija

Song of the Week: All the Love in the World by MC Yogi. When I hold loved ones who are going through hard times in my heart, this is the energy I send them – all the love in the world.

5K and snow drops

The Good News
by Thich Nhat Hahn

The good news
they do not print.
The good news
we do print.
We have a special edition every moment
that we need you to read.
The good news is that you are alive
and the linden tree is still there
standing firm in the harsh winter.
The good news is that you have wonderful eyes
to touch the blue sky.
The good news is that
your child is there before you,
and your arms are available.
Hugging is possible.

They print only what is wrong.
Look at each of our special editions.
We always offer the things that are not wrong.
We want you to benefit from them
and help protect them.
The dandelion is there by the sidewalk,
smiling its wondrous smile,
singing the song of eternity.
Lo! You have ears capable of hearing it.
Bow your head.
Listen to her.
Leave behind your world of sorrow
and preoccupation
and get free.
The latest good news
is that you can do it.