It struck me today as i was washing the kitchen floor and sending love to a friend's daughter who is in struggle that some might see it as irreverent.

This prayer in the midst of dust and fat splatters from cooking and stray hairs from the us long haired women and poodles and shards of paper from some homework assignment, might have seemed profane.

A sacred act like prayer should be in a sanctified space.  With solemnity and process.

But my heart says not for me.

Not for me the life of only praying at the time and place that is deemed appropriate by some force other than the holy.

For me, the moment Love washes in to my heart and I think with love about a friend, or a stranger or our planet in her struggle, that is the time to pray.

When Love turns up.  That is the  temple right there. Whether that is when i am blown away by the miracle of a wet road or dew-dripped spider's web, or my daughter's smile, or the struggle of a human against fear.  The appearance of Love is what counts.

In my heart Love sanctifies a space and I feel it would be the ultimate profanity to shut that Love away until Sunday.  

Prayer in the temple of my heart while washing the floor helps me. The very act of being alive to Love in the midst of the profane is what being alive is about to me.

Being an attendant to Love, the numinous at work in my heart.

Being responsive to the Numinous.  Whenever it shows up.

That lifts my life.

Life is prayerworthy.

Love is the Temple, and it lives in me.

Hali Karla has created an amazing banquet for visual journaling and soul filling goodness. 




 "SPECTRUM" is the name of the gathering and it is a 10 month extravaganza where different artists, healers and visionaries share goodness from their heart each month and a community gathers to share their thoughts and growth.  Have a look here to learn more - that is my affiliate link and if you use that and decide to join us on the course then I get paid, so thank you <3. 




It will be amazing.




I am honoured to be one of the people offering a part of their heart  and the work in the photograph is a sneak peek at what we will be creating together.  The theme for the month that I have chosen is NOURISH.  I can't wait to show you what I have laid on the table.  I am really proud to be able to be the conduit for this.  My part of the offering is called Nourish - feeding the Divine Self.

Did I mention I am excited? Ha!




And the generous Hali has given each teacher a free place on the course for one lucky person.  Please leave me a note below describing what you think Spectrum would do for your heart and I will draw a winner randomly.




With such love and good luck <3




jane

As i soften into my life as a 48 year old,
As i spend time listening and attending to my heart and my callings 
I am blessed with the evidence of miracles

Now that photo above may not look like evidence of a miracle,
but it is.

You see a few months ago i bought some seeds from an heirloom seed protection group whose work is a miracle.  Combing old farms and family collections for seeds that have grown up in the unique area i live in.  They are holding space literally and figuratively for the ancient to have a place in the world.  They do not dismiss "old" as synonymous with past it's best and non innovative.  They cherish the old for its wisdom and subtle gifts.

But this is not the miracle i want to focus on (although bless Taonga gardens to the heavens).

Look closely at the intricate patterns there - see how those soft-curved diamonds fit together so beautifully.

A miracle!
 rest my case.

No actually i don't.  As miraculous as that design is - done without the aid of computers and engineering degrees the old sunflower head is not the miracle.

The miracle is that i got a seed from the Taonga folk and put it in the darkness of soil.
I tended it with water and attention.

And when the sprout came and strengthened i placed it in my garden.
Some of the seedlings got eaten by snails.
But some of them made it.

And the miracle is they made it.
The miracle is as humans we get to make it here at all

I rest my case.

No actually I don't.

 

The miracle is that those surviving plants grew over 7 feet tall some of them!  
Taller than me.  In such a short time.

The miracle is out of these towering shoots came these blessings of such vibrant yellow that every time i saw them i could not help smiling.

The miracle is they turned to gather each ray of sunlight they could as the day shifted.

The miracle is they closed to rest at night.

The miracle is they survived the sheild beetles and the snails and heavens knows what other bugs in my ramshackle garden to keep going.

The miracle is that the bees came and lovingly tended the sunflower, buzzing their delight over the glorious life affirming yellow that they are taking away pollen to the hive to tend their own miraculous life.

The miracle is they were there and beautiful whether they were seen or written about or photographed or had poems (or blog posts ha!) written about them.

The miracle is that i could pick them at the end of their biggest flowering as they kept on sending out new bloom after new bloom and i could furnish the space my family live in with this vibrant shout out to life that is a sunflower.

The miracle is that as the petals drooped and began to fall the truth of the magnificence that is hidden became evident.

The miracle is the tiny florets in the center of the sunflower showed their secret purse of life.

The miracle is that there was space in each one for the potential for new life.  Hundreds of new chances for a new miracle to occur.

The miracle is that the smaller heads, when i took them off or pulled the plant past it's glory out and laid it on the lawn became food for the sparrows.

The miracle is the sparrows know about the seeds.

The miracle is the seed fuels the sparrow to fly with its heart-fluttering busy-ness to tend its young and its nest.

The miracle is I get to take those seeds and start again.

 

Received like a Lover.

My feet asked to be let out of the shoes,
and once free, softened into the Earth
with a barely audible sigh.

The Earth held my feet 
with the thrill 
of a long desired touch.


On the face of my feet
the Earth cupped me,
gazing into my sole,
my soul,


Listening,
Remembering, 
She welcomed me home.
"Prodigal daughter." she whispered.


Then she released me
and waited
while i took
my next step.