The Salty Spray of Memory

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Sometimes

all the wrong choices I’ve made

come at me like a returning tide.

With the force of a wall of water,

they hit me full in the face,

wave after

wave

threatening to drown me in

regret.

It’s all I can do to keep my footing

on this rocky beach

and let it wash over me.

For it will wash over—

I’m familiar enough with this

edge of the ocean

to know that much.

The tide that comes in will

recede,

and I will find that I am still standing,

God only knows how,

but

drenched,

I stand in the sunlight of grace,

drip dry,

breathe the salty spray of memory

deeply in,

deeply out

until my breath comes without

hitching.

Peace returns

with the hope that

as long as I am still standing,

still breathing,

then with grace,

with peace,

with love,

I can

sometimes

turn the tide.

-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.

A Gift of Poppies

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A friend shared her garden with me

in a baggie of poppy seeds,

tiny black things

that could be mistaken

for a swarm of gnats.

I had my doubts that they would grow,

for I am a haphazard gardener.

But I do love the look of delicate,

showy, confident poppies,

so I planted the seeds.

Those tiny black dots sprouted and stretched

into tall, slender stalks

that birthed frilly-edged blooms of

rosy pink with inner brush-strokes of lavender

around a globe-shaped center,

a tiny pumpkin-like pod of yellow and green.

I wish poppies would bloom all summer,

but petals faded,

fluttered,

fell from their centers,

those small, round globes,

each now regally topped with a tiny crown.

Then something astonishing happened.

As the globes browned,

under their crowns,

tiny holes appeared

like observation windows for gnats—

or, as it happens,

escape hatches for seeds.

Stems dry, weaken,

bend in the wind.

Out fall the seeds and scatter on the ground.

My grandson said, “Pretty soon poppies

will cover your whole yard,

because you get more and more each season.”

And I nod,

for that is how gracious a garden is,

how generous.

One plant multiplies its beautiful, bountiful self

in tiny seed-promises,

packets of hope for the year to come.

And if I pluck the seed pods

before they spill,

I can shake seeds out of their windows

and into a baggie

to share with a friend

these tiny black things

that could be mistaken

for a swarm of gnats

but are really a gift of beauty

and bounty

and hope

and grace.

-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.

A Waterfall of Music

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I’ve heard it said that

often, when we think we’re

hungry,

we’re really just

thirsty.

On a walk this week,

I thought I was hungry for

talk radio,

hoping to find hope

somewhere in news and analysis.

But then,

sandwiched between

one segment and

the next,

came an interlude of music,

gentle piano,

a drifting melody.

I paused,

closed my eyes,

let liquid notes pour over me,

a waterfall,

a silver stream of serenity,

freshening, cooling,

full of hope.

As I opened my eyes,

I realized

I had not been hungry after all

but thirsty,

thirsty for the

soul full,

drenching,

quenching

grace

music.

-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.

Not the Off-Hand “Thanks”

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“Nature calms me,” said my grandson

as he stepped into his backyard,

left the stress of the school day,

entered the grace of afternoon.

I wish I had been that wise

when I was seven.

But nature is a patient teacher and

waited years for me to

pause at the call of a cardinal,

linger over the unfolding coneflower,

inhale the scent of honeysuckle,

finger the curling bark of the crape myrtle,

taste the wild strawberry,

settle my soul.

Nature waited years for me to be

deeply grateful,

and for me,

that’s where true peace begins.

I can’t imagine peace without gratitude—

not the off-hand, easily tossed “thanks”

but the gratitude that has no words,

the awe of a heart

full of the richness of being.

There is, of course, a dark side,

the underside of living,

but that’s all the more reason

to follow the wisdom of a seven-year-old

and at least once in a while

step into the grace

of Nature.

-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.

Open-Eyed and Full-Hearted

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Sometimes all you can do is

hope

that this year will be better.

I’ve long passed the stage of

buying into Jiminy Cricket’s

“If you wish upon a star…”

I’m way past believing

pie-in-the-sky.

I’m beyond thinking that

if I just do everything right,

everything will be all right.

I’m way past all that.

But I’m not past hope.

I’m not past looking the world

full in the face,

eyes open wide,

and knowing life can be better,

even great,

because

I know people who care.

I know love and peace and joy.

I know kindness and goodness

and grace and generosity.

I’m way past closed eyes

and grasping at straws,

but I’m not past hope.

May we never be past

open-eyed

full-hearted

hope.

–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.

That House is Empty Now

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

The house is empty,

my sister texted.

The house where we grew up,

where my mom decorated

for every holiday on the calendar,

where my dad, without warning,

would break out in a random song

from his vast repertoire—

Gilbert and Sullivan, Carmen, crooner tunes,

love songs for mom even after she died.

On his own last day, from their bed in that house,

he warbled a couple of bars

of “Molly Malone”

and I finished the line,

“alive alive-oh.”

That house is empty now.

Then again,

it’s not.

Every room holds memories.

Every door and window,

every wall,

the fireplace, the kitchen, the back porch.

The memories don’t die.

The beauty doesn’t die.

The grace and generosity don’t die.

In Daddy’s last days,

when someone would visit,

he would say, “We had a good run, didn’t we?”

Yes, Daddy, we did.

We had a good run in that house, and

oh God, how do I ever repay all the good?

The answer arrives

before I finish the question:

Embody that goodness.

Match it.

Become it.

Give it to your children and their children.

Share it with everyone you meet.

Breathe it out to the world.

For this love,

this joy,

this peace

is forever and for all.

This house will never be empty.

-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.

Soul Stretching

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“So let us look for beauty and grace, for love and friendship, for that which is creative and birth-giving and soul-stretching. Let us dare to laugh at ourselves, healthy, affirmative laughter. Only when we take ourselves lightly can we take ourselves seriously.” – Madeleine L’Engle from her lecture Dare to Be Creative

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.

Taking Ourselves Lightly

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“So let us look for beauty and grace, for love and friendship, for that which is creative and birth-giving and soul-stretching. Let us dare to laugh at ourselves, healthy, affirmative laughter. Only when we take ourselves lightly can we take ourselves seriously, so that we are given the courage to say, ‘Yes! I dare disturb the universe.’” – Madeleine L’Engle

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.

The Secret of Cupped Hands

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I have a daydream of the present moment, the now. In that dream, we stand with hands cupped before us, holding what we thought were the thorns of the past. But they’ve turned into fragrant flowers. As we cradle these flowers in our palms, something marvelous happens: the petals become wings, and with one joyful toss of our cupped hands, we send them flying into the future. And when we lower our hands, we realize that, in spite of everything we let go, our hands are not empty. They are full of mystery and grace and hope enough to fuel our next steps.

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.

From Thorns to Flowers

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I have a daydream of the present moment, the now. In that dream, we stand with hands cupped before us, holding what we thought were the thorns of the past. But they’ve turned into fragrant flowers. As we cradle these flowers in our palms, something marvelous happens: the petals become wings, and with one joyful toss of our cupped hands, we send them flying away. And when we lower our hands, we realize that, in spite of everything we let go, our hands are not empty. They are full of mystery and grace and hope enough to fuel our next steps and fill our hearts with peace.

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.

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

grace

The Salty Spray of Memory

A Gift of Poppies

A Waterfall of Music

Not the Off-Hand “Thanks”

Open-Eyed and Full-Hearted

That House is Empty Now

Soul Stretching

Taking Ourselves Lightly

The Secret of Cupped Hands

From Thorns to Flowers