Today,
right now,
I celebrate
Me !!!
My capacity to love,
to accept,
to be in life,
as it is,
right now.
Trusting, trusting, trusting,
come what may.
sj – 16 october 2023
Mahalo Ke Akua
that’s my family — mom, dad, aunt, siblings and two best friends — moi ? front row, second from the left
It’s always about the process.
It’s reassuring to know that I am simply the vehicle for my soul’s journey.
Not that I’m driving this vehicle, but I am the vehicle.
Destiny is the driver.
And when sadness brushes against my cheek, my heart swallows me whole.
Furry companions
greet me
at every turn.
Mahalo Ke Akua
And it feels good. ;-)
Does she reply? you ask.
No, but it just feels good somehow to send it, to let her know how I’m doing, what’s going on.
Unconditional love is an amazing thing—no matter how it appears.
Mahalo ke Larry Thécat
of our life, the Universe has our back.
Every moment
of
our
life,
the Universe
has our back.
EVERY moment
of our life,
the Universe
has our back.
Every moment . . .
Dear Friends,
Ages have passed since I last posted. Being a social hermit suits me, I find. One of the beautiful aspects of the aging process is the clear understanding that we all have to live according to our own unique rhythm and style — even, or perhaps especially, in the midst of global upheaval and change.
Just a few moments ago, I felt a tap on my heart to share the bonus section I added to the 2nd edition of my book My Life as a Mule, and so I shall. I realize that my book is a strange creation to most readers . . . and yet, I could not have written it any other way.
May the *Eagle’s wise words bring you solace and hope.
With warm Aloha,
* Sj *
*Below in bold.
CAN YOU KEEP A SECRET?
or
DO I HAVE TO?
“Molly, wake up.”
The counselor gently tugged the Mare’s mane. Her reaction—to roll onto her other side while remaining asleep—effectively pushed Miss Betsy off the narrow bed and onto the aged pine floor.
“Molly,” the Rabbit persisted, “you need to wake up.” Again, Miss Betsy tumbled to the floor.
The third try charmed Molly into opening her eyes. “Minnie?” she asked, yawning until the counselor clearly saw that this camper had ample room for wisdom teeth.
“It’s Miss Betsy,” she whispered. “I need for you to quietly get out of bed. Please don’t awaken the others. I’ll explain everything outside.”
She quickly hopped out the door and waited for Molly to join her.
As Molly wiped the sleep from her eyes, Miss Betsy spelled out what was happening: One, you’re the Indian Princess for Cabin Six; two, you are not to speak or the title will be revoked; three, the ceremony will take place at the campfire.
Speckles of light fell through the trees joining a swarm of fireflies. A silent parade traipsed through the freckled woods, heading towards a distant burnt-orange glow where Butch stood at the end of the trail waving a lamp for all to see. One-by-one he steered the solemn marchers towards the logs. Once seated, he too joined them in facing the hot blue fire.
Steam from the day’s earlier downpour filled the hollow basin, matching the fog in Molly’s mind. The somber group waited in silence until the great Eagle stepped through the mist. His wings, spread wide, flapped slowly, clearing the air and sending warmth on the cool summer night to the yawning campers.
“Indian Princess, hear me. Look not to this world. Its signposts have been marred with time. Look to the heavens and go within. All that you seek, you already possess. The earth is our Mother. Nature, our family. Treat one another with respect.
Compassion is your Queen, be worthy. Kindness your King, honor him.
As part of the whole, there is no other you. Play your role well.
Live, breathe, and soar. Though the ground may pull, the power of flight is yours.
Trust in yourself and all that is.
Secret Handshakes are a fool’s game. Do you hear my words?”
Yes, the novices nodded.
“Then remember, be who you are, and accept others the same.
At each passing year, trade your shoes for a day with those of another. Feel their pain and discover it is yours. Feel their sorrow and know your own grief. Rejoice in our connection. Together we are one.
Now go. Live the life you are meant to live, and show others the way.”
Molly must have returned to her cabin with Miss Betsy, though she did not remember. What lingered was a feeling of responsibility, for her actions, words and dreams.
We’re connected. I must remember . . .
Excerpt from My Life as a Mule: a fictionalized memoir or a memoir with a twist by Sj Hylton LeHoven, 2nd edition
The things we say.
The things we do.
We’re constantly weaving a fabric with our thoughts, words, and deeds.
A fabric that covers the entire planet.
IS the entire planet.
An interlacing of all that we are.
So many threads!
Each
a part
of
the
Whole.
sjhl – april 11, 2020
What does that mean exactly?
How can we just BE in this moment when there’s so much to do!
Projects.
People to see.
Bills to pay.
Life to live.
Earlier today I saw this word online: Focus.
A popular online personality said that she is going to make it her main word for the year –FOCUS. As in focus and get things done.
Okay, I thought, Yes, I do seem to get a lot done when I focus. It is definitely how I’ve been conditioned to BE in this world in order to be a productive, contributing member of society.
And yet . . .
There’s soooo much beauty. Soooo much peace when I’m BEing in the now. Savoring each breath. Noticing what’s going on around me. Within me.
And then I thought of TRUST. What it means to trust.
Okay, if I’m telling myself I need to focus. Put myself on some kind of a schedule. THEN I’m telling myself that I HAVE TO be that way in order to be productive. In order to accomplish whatever. Be a good citizen. Contribute to society at large.
And if I don’t, well, I’ll be a failure. Tossed about at the whim of whatever pulls my attention this way or that.
*****
And that brought me to some day in time when an image of a boat being tossed about at sea was the topic du jour. The warning of what can happen when one lives a life unplanned. Unfocused.
*****
And yet . . . when I reflect on my life, I recognize how unconventionally I’ve been living. How I have been letting myself be pulled this way and that by whatever is grabbing my attention in the moment. And still . . . in the midst of it all, I have been productive. Have accomplished things that could be considered successful to the outside world.
All while letting go and allowing the current to take me where it will.
*****
Okay, Sj, what are you trying to say?
Well, I think I’m trying to say that it’s possible to do both. To BE in the now and also focus on whatever interests us in the moment.
Because I’m realizing that being focused is as much a part of my nature as is daydreaming.
When I read a good book, I get lost in it. That’s focusing.
When I’m writing whatever, I get lost in it. That’s also focusing.
And when I used to compete in sports, I’d get lost in the moment. Thinking of nothing else except what I was doing. Another form of focusing.
And ALL part of my nature. Who I am.
So . . . on this Saturday morning when I thought I’d be out the door by now, I’ve been pulled to sit and write. To think and reflect.
Was it wrong? Should I have been doing something else?
No.
Because I’ve come to trust this guidance so well.
To trust my soul’s promptings.
It’s gotten me to where I am now. And this now is really, really good. ;-)
xoxox Sj xoxox
P.S. I made an Sj from the Heart video a few weeks back called “Being in the Now.” I had it scheduled to post on YouTube sometime in March (another video was going to be posted today), but . . . in the way that life just keeps unfolding and continually showing me that I’m not in charge, I changed which video would post today to the one you see below (to match this blog post). And there you go. Life is always, always changing, and we’re always, always being guided. ;-)
P.P.S. The image above is of a shower curtain, lol, being tossed about at sea. It is available for purchase if you like it. No, I don’t make any profit off of that, lol. Just find it funny that the image I found that I like is for a shower curtain. Also saw that it comes as a mouse pad and rug. Again, lol.
several people have suggested that I write a mystery. My mom in particular.
“Why don’t you write something with people in it? Why does everything you do have to be so weird?”
LOL
‘Cause I am weird, Mom. Happily weird.
Mysteries as a genre have never really interested me.
I’ve tried. I remember reading an Agatha Christie long ago. As well as a few others I don’t recall. But they just didn’t excite me. Draw me in. I like to be TRANSPORTED when I read. Stretch my mind and FEEL.
That must be why I love magical realism, fantasy, and children’s books. The author Jamaica Kincaid comes to mind. And her collection of short stories: “At the Bottom of the River.” Beautiful. Lyrical. Transportive.
I gave a book to my mom sometime last year that the Kaua‘i Chicklit bookclub read; it was heaped in magical realism.
“That is definitely not my choice of reading material. I hope you read other books more logical. Try some of Shakespeare’s works.”
Yes, we all have different tastes, and I think she was truly trying to be helpful. But . . . as I’ve learned what is best for me to do, I politely ignored her.
Her suggestion was made months and months ago, but it obviously still hasn’t left her because just last week out-of-the-blue she said:
“I don’t know what to do with that weird book you gave me, that bookclub one. I guess I’ll just give it back to you.”
* * * * *
My mother is one of my greatest teachers.
No, she doesn’t give me hugs or tell me that things will be alright.
She neither praises nor encourages me.
Her lack of support IS her support. The teacher I’ve had all my life. And this teacher has shown me time and time again that whatever I need is either already within me
Or in some seemingly random situation that will steer me in the “right” direction.
I put right in quotes because I’ve come to realize that there really is no right or wrong. But rather whatever is best in any particular moment.
For we are always being guided.
Always being steered down the best path (for each one of us).
Even when it doesn’t feel like it.
* * * * *
So as I sit here with a blank piece of paper and think about who the characters will be in my next book, I LOVE the mystery of not knowing.
The mystery of DISCOVERY.
TRUSTING that it will unfold . . .
IS unfolding in the most perfect and WEIRD manner that is my way.
My style.
My life and path.
Me.
* * * * *
Yes.
I LOVE the mystery in THAT.
;-)
xoxox Sj xoxox
I have never met Rumi.
He died a long time ago.
I don’t even know if people took steroids then.
But . . . I just read a poem of his that is much longer than the short sayings that are often posted in social media. And I thought, “Wow! Rumi on steroids! Go Rumi go!”
And then I realized, “Wow! This relates to a conversation I just had yesterday with neighbors. And to a discussion at one of the Trust Train Bookclubs I attended.”
Rumi lived in 1207 to 1273, y’all. And yet what he wrote so long ago is still relevant today.
Thank you Rumi for being You.
Thank you for taking the time to write down what came to you.
And thank you to all of YOU who are taking the time to read this now.
Be with this.
Blessings to YOU as you live your day as the SHINING STAR that you are. <3
**The Shepherd’s Prayer
Moses saw a shepherd on the way, crying, “O Lord Who choosest as Thou wilt,
Where art Thou, that I may serve Thee and sew Thy shoon and comb Thy hair?
That I may wash Thy clothes and kill Thy lice and bring milk to Thee, O Worshipful One!
That I may kiss Thy little hand and rub Thy little feet and sweep Thy little room at bed-time.”
On hearing these foolish words, Moses said, “Man, to whom are you speaking?
What babble! What blasphemy and raving! Stuff some cotton into your mouth!Truly the friendship of a fool is enmity: the High God is not in want of suchlike service.”
The Shepherd rent his garment, heaved a sigh, and took his way to the wilderness.
Then came to Moses a revelation: “Thou has parted My servant from Me.
Wert thou sent as a prophet to unite, or wert thou sent to sever?
I have bestowed on every one a particular mode of worship,
I have given every one a peculiar form of expression.
The idiom of Hindustan is excellent for Hindus; the idiom of Sind is excellent for people of Sind.
“I look not at tongue and speech, I look at the spirit and the inward feeling.
I look into the heart to see whether it be lowly, though the words uttered be not lowly.
Enough of phrases and conceits and metaphors! I want burning, burning: become familiar with that burning!
Light up a fire of love in thy soul, burn all thought and expression away!
O Moses, they that know the conventions are of one sort, they whose souls burn are of another.”
The religion of love is apart from all religions. The lovers of God have no religion but God alone.
May we ALL Light up a FIRE of LOVE in OUR SOUL and burn, burn, burn. <3
* In case you’ve never heard of Rumi, CLICK HERE to go to his Wikipedia page.
** I read this poem in a cool book I found at the Friends of the Lihue Library’s June book sale called The Mystic in Love: a treasury of world mystical poetry edited by Shelley Gross. © 1966.