inspirational

What’s the Hurry?

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Today’s to-do list is long—

Clear the back deck of dried beans

and a drinking straw

left from yesterday when I taught

my grandson how to make

a pea shooter

Clean the upstairs bathroom

Vacuum

Bake bread

and whatever else comes up in between.

But my cat was on my lap,

curled and cozy

as if to say,

what’s the hurry,

this,

this,

this is what’s important.

And I noticed how brown strands of fur

mingled with gray,

how the white was growing whiter with age,

how her closed eyes smiled

and her breath gentled in and out.

I hushed the waiting tasks,

felt the warm sun on my shoulders,

listened to the quiet

for a moment

and a moment longer.

When I rose to tackle my to-do list,

my cat followed me upstairs

and sat in a splash of sun,

watching

as I calmly cleaned the bathroom

to a porcelain shine.

She was at peace.

And so was I.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week—Black-eyed Susans are still blooming:

Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Afraid I Might Fall

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Sometimes there are no words,

there’s only sitting in silence

and letting the tears come.

It feels massively important to lose

a father.

I’m left with roots running deep,

but the trellis is gone,

the one that held me up,

the one too often taken for granted.

There is now a breeze at my back

where the support used to be,

and I’m afraid I might fall,

but I am finding I’m strong enough

to stand

on my own,

and I realize that all these years

I have been strong.

And all these years,

he knew.

-kh-

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Where Does Our Courage Go?

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As a writer, I’m always jotting down ideas, notes, and quotes that inspire and encourage me. This week, I ran across this quote that I had copied on July 1, 2020 from a blog I follow, Writer Unboxed (highly recommended for you writers). While the words may be directed toward writers, they apply to everyone. I needed this reminder this week. Maybe you do too.

“If you feel helpless in our troubled times, remember this: times change. Our world does not stay the same. It never does. If powerlessness is our premise, then change is our story’s promise. That is the message spoken by our voices. That is our strength. That is where our courage goes.” – agent and writer Donald Maass

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature and Shadow of the week – peace lily:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

When Dawn Raised Her Window Shade

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This morning,

dawn quietly raised her window shade, releasing

a stream of gold that flowed

across reaching roofs and leaf-strewn lawns.

The brilliant stream wandered west,

a glowing, growing, widening river

warmly hugging the autumn garden.

Orange peppers blushed red,

purple pansies nodded,

black-eyed Susans brightened.

The river of sun dappled fallen pinecones,

speckled spent coneflowers,

splashed up tree trunks to spotlight the elms

and burnish yellowing poplar leaves.

I saw this golden gift of dawn

this morning

when she raised her window shade

and I raised mine.

-kh-

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Swallowing Sunshine

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Today I picked three palm-sized stars

with pure white petals.

Mandevilla they’re called,

a fancy name for a friendly flower that grows

on vines that twine around fence and stake

and the gangly stems of neighboring black-eyed Susans.

In the center of each bloom

is a deep throat of golden yellow,

as if they’ve swallowed sunshine.

They hold this inner glow of morning

through afternoon

and sunset

and twilight

and into the night.

Today I picked three palm-sized stars,

and they asked me what glowing ideas

I have swallowed.

Which are worth holding center-deep?

Which lead to peace and kindness

in this vining, entwining life?

Which will hold a warm glow within me

through sunset and twilight

and into the night?

I think I know the answer.

Only the golden grace of peace and lovingkindness

can last the day and pass through the night.

Today I picked three palm-sized stars

and, for a moment, held in my hand a hint of

nature’s wisdom.

-kh-

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Simply to be Present

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You’re the strongest woman I know, she said.

But I do not feel it.

The truth is

I am not strong.

I simply put one foot in front of the other

and move forward,

rather slowly these days,

sometimes sure-footed,

but just as often stumbling.

No, I’m not strong.

I’m just here.

I’m simply present.

I shrug—I just am.

It’s said that when Moses asked God’s name,

God answered, “I am.”

Maybe that’s the strongest

anyone can be,

to simply exist

in spite of every wind that blows,

hot or cold,

gentle or fierce,

east, west, north, or south,

to take one more step

and say,

I am.

With all my quirks,

with all I know

and all I don’t know,

I am.

I just

am.

-kh-

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

A Game of War I Don’t Want to Play

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He’s being cranky again, my young grandson,

corralling me into a game of war

I do not want to play,

the swingset the villain’s lair.

I don’t like war, I tell him.

I don’t like fighting.

I like peace.

He says, “First you fight the monsters,

and then you go to your place of peace.”

I look up,

up to the treetops,

take a deep breath.

I don’t tell him that I have some experience

in fighting monsters who were not quite

as imaginary as his.

Or were they?

I also don’t tell him

that I don’t always win.

The treetops sway,

the breeze whispers peace.

I look back at my grandson.

“Okay,” I say.

“I will fight your monsters.”

And my heart breaks a little.

Because I know that I will.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

The Sacrament of Waking

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In the drift of easing from night dreams

into the gift of a new dawn,

there exists a pause,

a delicious time,

a handful of moments,

the day reborn in peace.

This handful of half-waking minutes

is a carrier,

a courier,

an envoy of the sacred—

a sacrament.

In the fraying fog of waking,

I feel my fragile frame,

my trusting weight generously held,

graciously cradled,

between blanket and bed,

between heaven and earth.

This moment is a silver bowl

holding silent prayers

measured in heartbeats,

whispered in slow, easy breaths.

In a handful of half-awake minutes,

time touches eternity.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

The Dance of the Season

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It’s the dance of the season,

the frolic of Fall.

Leaves

drift

down.

Pollen freckles the birdbath,

tickles my nose—

a snappy breeze,

an autumn sneeze.

Branches bow,

a leaf breaks loose.

Then another.

And another.

Lifted and swirled,

tossed and twirled,

they join the drift,

the sink and lift on

cool currents of air

that stir them around

and down

to the ground

to scuffle and settle.

All the while, the breeze whispers to leaves

still clinging to branches,

“Come and dance.

Come and dance.”

And they do,

and they will

until branches are bare

and a chill stirs the air.

Then Fall flicks her skirts

and flirts with Winter

who knows this dance well.

She’ll take the lead

flinging flakes of frost

in a waltz with the wind.

But that’s weeks away.

For today, it’s a breeze

and a sneeze

and a timid drift

of golden leaves.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week—moonrise:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

The Peace of Baking Bread

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Rich, yeasty, cozy, all-embracing,

the scent of fresh-baked bread

warms the kitchen,

drifts upstairs,

flows through the house,

seeps out open windows,

mingles with cool autumn air,

hitches a ride on the breeze,

while indoors, its warm hug

settles me.

I have worked for this moment,

measured flour, salt, sugar,

added yeast and scalding water,

kneaded plump dough

four minutes per loaf (I bake two),

press and fold,

press and fold,

a hefty eight-minute workout

for arms and hands and fingers.

Then comes the magic.

The dough rises, doubles in size

and bakes golden brown,

fresh and fragrant.

All is well with a loaf of bread

just out of the oven.

What’s better than its yeast-warm smell—

except for a bit of butter

on that first yummy bite.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.