Daily Dose (September 29 – Oct 2)
TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 29 —
I once asked my analyst why I was in therapy. He told me it would make me a better gardener. Gardening can be strong medicine—an elixir that nurtures and shapes the soul. For that reason, it is a tonic seldom taken straight with no ice. Gardening has way of seeping into your soul, and one day you find yourself, in the words of poet May Sarton, spending the first half hour of the morning “enjoying the air and watching for miracles,” the joy and the light still alive.
Today Nancy and I enjoyed garden wandering in the Cotswolds. And the child in me, savoring the moments that make my heart come alive. With surprises, like so many flower blooms, varieties, and combinations all new to me.
Autumn is Dahlia heaven—now a plethora of colors and varieties. Maybe an extravaganza, or Fall pageant.
And fresh surprises. Blue Rock Bindweed, a soft and gentle blue. The exotic and charming white blooms on the Yucca plants. Meadow saffron, with wispy petals. And Everlasting flower (Straw flower), the flowers as if divinely chiseled. Their blooms continue to open as they dry, their yellow centers turning a beautiful, jewel-like golden color.
In the garden, I am viscerally aware of the replenishment vital to be fully present, and fully alive. In Hidcote Manor, there is a sign near a bench under an Italian Shelter that says, “Welcome to Hidcote’s Silent Space. We have partnered with the charity Silent Space to create an area of the garden where visitors are invited to take a moment to disconnect from the outside world and reconnect with nature.” Yes, and Amen.
A day that was heart-warming and heart touching. A wonderful reminder of our theme this week. We are hearts that touch.
Which may sound too sentimental in the real world, where hearts touch, and hearts hurt. In the real world, where hearts hope, and hearts break. Hearts heal, and hearts splinter. But here’s the good news: it is from those splintered places, that hearts give—love and empathy and healing and mercy—again, and again, and again. We are hearts that touch, and it makes our world a better place.
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”
“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”
“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.
“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”
“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”
“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
“I suppose you are real?” said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.
“The Boy’s Uncle made me Real,” he said. “That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always.”
“The Velveteen Rabbit”, Margery Williams
Thank you, my friends, for being a part of Sabbath Moment. I am grateful for the community. If you know anyone who would enjoy, and benefit from Sabbath Moment, please invite your friend to join us.
WEDNESDAY SEPTEMBER 30 —
Prayer (poem) for our week…
We do not become healers.
We came as healers. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not become storytellers.
We came as carriers of the stories
we and our ancestors actually lived. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not become artists. We came as artists. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not become writers… dancers… musicians… helpers… peacemakers.
We came as such. We are.
Some of us are still catching up to what we are.
We do not learn to love in this sense.
We came as Love. We are Love.
Some of us are still catching up to who we truly are.
Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Photo… “Good afternoon, I decided to take the Point Defiance Ferry (Tacoma) at Sunrise. Since God was having an Art exhibit I wanted to attend it. Thank you for your dedication to our journey home,” Marguerite Gerontis… Thank you Marguerite… And thank you all for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com
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