Posts Tagged ‘Writing’
Embracing the Quiet
Wednesday, February 17th, 2021
I have come to terms with doing less and being more. I have written so many things in my head that have not made their way to the page. I have come to terms with spending the past year being in the moment. While I have appreciated seeing or reading about many people being so productive this past year (learning a new skill or cleaning out rooms or closets), I have spent the last 12 months listening and tending to myself.
Instead of keeping busy, I have been quiet. With less meetings, events, baseball games, nights out, vacations, or people to get together with, my schedule became empty—and I chose to not fill it. Rather, I studied the birds out my window. And watched the starlings leave the pine tree when it became invaded by grackles. I watched the cherry trees bloom from the bare branches to large pink flowers. I marveled at the squirrels leaping from tree to tree as the great chase became a daily comedy show. I lingered with my morning coffee enjoying the ever-changing sky. Unable to read novels most of last year, I found myself downloading podcasts and binge-watching television shows. At first, I felt guilty about my inability to read, write, or facilitate (on-line) workshops. And I made the mistake of comparing myself to other people who seemed to be doing so much. Yet, friends shared that they felt just as alone and scared during this time.
I was feeling so much grief about losing people I knew to the virus, working alone in my dining room for hours, staying inside, and the loss of not seeing family and friends. In The Wild Edge of Sorrow, Francis Wheeler writes, “Grief also reveals the undeniably reality of our bond with the world…We need grief in order to heal these traumas and make sense of a world turned upside.”
I needed grief to show me the way out and show the way in. I needed this quiet time to connect me to grace and God. And I needed to embrace the quiet within myself. Am not sure what this time will mean to me years from now or what lessons it will have given me. But I know that I have appreciated the small things, like long walks, songbirds, books, my sister’s homemade meals, and the need to not rush anywhere. For now, the quiet feels like a homecoming. And for today, I am embracing the quiet.
Leaving the Station
Thursday, July 13th, 2017
Next stop – the Bronx. I often wait a long time at the Pelham Bay station for my train to leave the station. How long have I sat scrolling social media or reading or meditating or listening to a Podcast while waiting to leave the station? Over the years, I have left many stations behind – some that I have not returned to in years and some ever again. Leaving the station of people and places often means letting go and moving on.
Leaving and arriving are daily practices. It’s when I am stuck in the station that negative emotions arise. Leaving the station can mean a good-bye, a travel away, a travel towards, a moving on, a welcoming, a grieving, a homecoming, a shift in perspective. I have learned that we all leave the station at some point and each time is different. What are we really leaving?
Everything changes. And in the end, I have learned that everyone leaves in some form. It’s the inhale and exhale of life. Breathing in and breathing out. We meet each other in the in-between breath.
We all leave the station at our own pace. Welcome the leaving.
Soon the conductor will shout, “Leaving the station.”
Next stop…
This is dedicated to my mom who passed away 17 years ago. Glad we had time together to share the in-between breath.
This essay was inspired from the Prompt a Day Program with Cynthia Morris.
Watching Over Everything
Wednesday, June 28th, 2017
The birds – they see everything. They fly overhead seeing everything. The birds have a different view.
View. The view of the heart. Does that not watch over everything too? How do we watch over? With love? With judgment? With peace? With an open heart?
Is there a being of love watching over everything? Perhaps this is my faith calling me back. Maybe I am ready, listening, and remembering to return.
Returning to light and darkness. Day and night. Doesn’t that watch over us too?
The night sky – looking up – watching over everything through the stars. The lights blinking, glowing, soaring through the sky. What do the stars see through their lens of light?
The light passes. The darkness opens me up to more light. Here I am shining. Here we are shining.
I have learned how much is watching over me. In the end, it is love, always love, watching over me. Here I AM: SKY, SPIRIT, STARS, LOVE watching….
Watching over everything.
This essay was inspired from the Prompt a Day Program with Cynthia Morris.
And We Greet Again
Thursday, March 23rd, 2017
And this is the place where I stand.
And this is the world where I stand.
And this is the universe where I stand.
And I breathe. 
And I breathe.
And I belong.
And I love.
And I long.
And I grieve.
And I desire.
And I remember.
And I greet again.
And again.
And this is the place where we stand.
And this is the world where we stand.
And this is the universe where we stand.
And we greet each other.
And we greet God in each other.
And we greet again.
And again.
Remove the Label and Live Your Dream
Wednesday, August 12th, 2009
Ever since I can remember, people have been asking me what I want to be when I grow up. I realized that over the span of time that answer has changed. I have wanted to be a cop, a radio DJ, a nun (it’s true), a teacher, and workshop facilitator. A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to gather some stuff that has been stored at my parents’ house – the stuff that will never fit in a NYC apartment – like trophy’s, plaques, photo albums, boxes of letters, and even school papers (the one’s when I got an A). After cleaning off the mounds of dust, I began to get a good look at my life since I was about age 12. Going through theses boxes, I began to reflect about all the people throughout my life who helped me get to where I am today. I found letters of support from my parents and sisters sent to me while I was on retreats, along with many letters from friends from all around the world.
As I read these letters, notes, and even high school yearbooks, I noticed that throughout time, people said similar things to me. They often complimented my hard work, my poetry, enthusiasm, faith, commitment, generosity, and humor. It was a nice feeling to see how many people one life touches and that my core values have remained the same.
Then I stumbled upon my 8th grade yearbook. It’s a handmade paper book that was put together by my school classmates. In the yearbook, we named our professional dream career. There it was in black and white – a writer. I had no idea I even said that back then. I must have blocked it because every time I told people I wanted to be a writer, folks would tell me about the struggle of getting published and how hard it would be to make money and pay bills. So, on I went to do other work in non-profit and then started my own healing arts company. And sure enough, over the past 18 years, I have helped write proposals, articles, workshops, brochures, outlines, blogs etc… Without the attachment of the label, I have always been a writer. I have kept a journal for more than 20 years and always have a notebook with me to capture the random thoughts and ideas that go through my head. Last month, I even became a contributing writer for a spirituality blog.
It’s nice to know I am living my dream with so much joy and enthusiasm. While I have probably been a combination of many professions, each one has included writing. No matter the label, I am a writer. It’s taken me this long to claim that inside and now I get to share it.
If you removed the label, what is your dream? Do it, be it, live it.
Oh yeah, my favorite song in the 8th grade – “Jump”, by Van Halen.
Dedicated to all those that have supported my dreams and to all those who read my writing (thank you).
Mary Anne