Category: Blog-Skillful Living

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May Day Memories

It was a beautiful May day at Bryn Mawr College in Pennsylvania back in 1986.

I was looking forward to partaking in the annual May Day celebration at this college so infused with Welsh traditions. As a graduate student, this was my first year living in the undergrad dorms as a “Warden.” An oxymoron, this term Warden, since Bryn Mawr had an honor code and no real rules for me to enforce.

I was more of a House Mama for young women in their time of need.

Truth be told, there were very few “times of need” during my 2 years living at Bryn Mawr. While I supported a few undergrads, I was better known for my annual Dead Plant Sales (no green thumb here) and the Couch Potato Movie Fest during exam time. This was a favorite across campus as I provided good snacks, fun movies, and a much needed break for these really bright, over achieving students.

I appreciated everything about those Warden years, but most especially having my tuition, room and board offered in exchange for living on a beautiful campus.

There were a lot of traditions at Bryn Mawr which was one of the “Seven Sisters” colleges for women. I enjoyed participating in most of them, although never understood why my dorm had to “haze” me along with the freshman. After a week of tortured anxiety and teasing about what was to come, it was mostly silly (they made me wear brown. I dislike the color brown immensely) and I lost some sleep. Otherwise, it was fun and I was rewarded with lots of good food and hugs. (If only hazing was that sweet across all institutions).

I was especially looking forward to dancing around the May Pole on May Day.

Grad students had their own May Pole and I was surrounded by other Wardens and friends from my department. We shared our breakfast and champagne, dressed in white and readied ourselves to frolic amidst the ribbons. I had visions of skipping along as we worked together to create a beautiful weave of colorful ribbons.

They should have provided we innocents with a bit more instruction other than “make sure your move the ribbon up and down.”

I never knew May Pole dancing was considered a blood sport. 


Seriously, I was grateful to make it out alive and with my head intact.

When the whistle blew, all these white frocked women started running FAST. My breath grew jagged as I strongly raised my ribbon up and down. Keeping pace and weaving the damn May Pole was more than I bargained for. There was no mercy as all the onlookers cheered us on and yelled “keep up!”

I should’ve worn better undies as my white flouncy dress blew up to my waist.

I thought we’d be skipping, laughing, and gently floating our ribbons about. I guess I figured a halo of flowers would magically appear on our heads, crowning us as the May Day Goddesses we were. By the time we were done, half of us were bent over, hands on our knees and breathing hard. The others were laughing and offering high fives. You can guess what group I was in.

Despite my near death experience, it was a lovely day of celebration.

I knew May Day was a pagan tradition which occurs between the Spring Equinox (Ostara) and the upcoming Summer Solstice (Litha). Sometimes called Beltane, it is related to fertility as Spring is at its peak. What I didn’t know is that it also is used in countries like the UK and Germany to celebrate worker’s rights.

I wandered about the campus that day, drinking champagne, and watching women race around the May Pole.

The even had a May Hole to honor the lesbian students (before all the initials came into use). It is a lovely thing to participate in ritual, whether deeply familiar or totally new. When you are invited into someone else’s world to experience celebration, you are joined together for those moments. When a friend wished me a happy May Day today, this memory came flooding back.

Bringing a sense of appreciate for a life rich with stepping into ritual celebrations in worlds that are different than my own.

Ritual, celebration, and relationships allow you to remember that you are part of one human family and a part of this beautiful planet. They remind you to open your perception, stoke your curiosity, and engage with the unfamiliar. If only for one day.

I also remind you to check your undies if you’re racing around the May Pole in a cute white dress.

Have a beautiful May Day however you celebrate. If nothing is on your agenda, go check out what Pachamama is offering you. In my neck of the woods, Spring has sprung. The sky is beautiful, the day is warm, and the flowers are colorful.

I can celebrate this.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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I’m a Secret Librarian

True confession. I’m a book nerd. 

Reading is one of the great pleasures of my life. As long as I remember, I’ve devoured books. My home is filled with artistic book piles in most rooms. Set there to lure me onto the couch in order to gain a little knowledge or get lost in an imaginative adventure. 

I’ll trade sleep for a good book and often am running late to an event because “I’m at a good part.”

I never hop on a plane without two books. One to study and one to invite me into a new world. I overpack books on vacations so that I can choose the read of the day from my traveling library. For practicality’s sake, I tried, against my better judgment, to train myself to use a Nook but I missed the paper and ink too much. 

It’s no wonder I view book stores as my playground.   

Some of my best writing and creative projects have occurred in the cafe at my local Barnes and Noble. It’s as if I enter a zone or portal of creativity whenever I settle in to write there. I can work for hours, almost unaware of others around me, only to surface for an enjoyable break perusing the shelves. It doesn’t matter what department I enter, I find the perfect books and read a few pages. It’s a habit, I guess. Gathering a pile of books to “look at” and heading down a rabbit hole while sitting on the floor, engrossed by someone’s research or creative expression of genius.

I think this is where my career as a secret librarian began. In Barnes and Noble.

While my eyes scan the book shelf, I inadvertently notice authors out of alphabetical order or a disorganized display (gasp). Perhaps the books are left haphazardly laying upon the rows, even from other sections, as if someone dropped them there without regard. This desire to neaten and place books where they belong also arises in the public library, but doesn’t seem to cross over to other areas of my life.

I think it’s a love affair with the written word that has me working incognito. 

If I followed my bliss and spent more time at Barnes and Noble, their shelves would probably be in really great shape. It seems like a perfect volunteer position when I decide to retire. The only downside is that I’d probably discover something else to study and head back to work.

I decided to officially become a librarian when I found the perfect little free library in a nearby town.

 

I’ve seen those cute little bird house libraries and even toyed with putting one in front of my home.

That didn’t make much sense as I live on a quiet street where everyone can easily access books of their choosing. Or pop in their lovely vehicles to head to the public library or favorite bookstore. Anyway, I’m not so good with building birdhouses, even if they’re going to be filled with books.

Imagine my surprise when I noticed a little library appear at the playing fields where I sometimes walked.

People head there to walk their pets or themselves. Kids, teens, and adults use the field for personal training. Mostly it’s empty when we venture there for a nature stroll, but sometimes it is filled with the enthusiastic hustle and bustle of kids or teens practicing their favorite sport.

A summer evening may fill the place with kids practicing football, lacrosse, soccer, or cheerleading.

Game days bring the parents, siblings, and grandparents who overflow beyond the small bleachers to lawn chairs. It’s fun to watch and brings back memories of the thrill of little league games and working in the snack bar.

So, I’m already primed for enjoyment walking by that tiny free library. It draws me in.

I saw a bunch of old adult books. The kind you clean out after 20 years of sitting in your study. They sat there for weeks. Nothing coming in and nothing coming out. Plus they weren’t displayed well. Just sayin’. With all these hundreds of kids and teens running around, some old Tom Clancy books weren’t fitting the bill. So, I tried an experiment. I found some young adult fiction I had read in pristine shape.

A week later, the books were missing. Tom Clancy remained.

When I read fiction, which is the only book I’ll pass on, you’d never know it was read. I take off the cover and use a book mark. It’s a book nerd thing. I started to experiment. Dropping off a trilogy with really fat books looking brand new. They disappeared. I rustled through the books my kid never read. Hardbacks. Fiction. Biographies of brave girls. All gone.

I only drop books when no one is around. Hence the secret part of my librarian title.

And I send each book with a wealth of wishes. I talk to the book(s) as I head over to the tiny house. “I hope you find the perfect home and inspire someone to know how creative they are. I hope you help someone discover a love of reading .. create new authors .. encourage innovation .. alleviate loneliness .. open minds. I hope you travel well and enjoy your adventure.”

Of course I cleaned up that dusty box so whomever it serves has a lovely library that respects the books and their readers.  

Not everyone supports the idea of free little libraries. 

Some dissenters feel they take away from services offered by the free public library system. Or are a harbinger of attempts to gentrify urban neighborhoods. Two librarians from Canada described these cute little birdhouse free libraries as “a highly visible form of self-gratification cleverly disguised as book aid.”  Most supported the idea of these as a resource or an enjoyable hobby or just another way to share a love of creative projects, good reads, and generosity.

I guess since I just outed my secret about tending to a little free library in a diverse neighborhood, I’m now engaged in a highly visible project of self-gratification. 

Yup. I’m unapologetic. I love books. I love little cute libraries. I love being a secret librarian. And I love my public library. 

I’ll skip the cute tiny libraries in affluent neighborhoods and stick to the two I’ve found that serve a more diverse economic population. I’ve got no regrets, even as I acknowledge my flagrant self-gratification as a book nerd do gooder. Imagining children, teens, or adults grabbing a good book warms my little librarian heart.

In the end, I don’t really care who takes my books, if they are returned, or where they travel. 

I just trust they will land in the perfect hands to be read at the perfect time. As long as they disappear and I’ve got (good) books to share, I’m hired. I’ll let you decide where you land in this (mild) controversy about cute mini houses with free books. Read all about it here.     

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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At Home in the Midst

This warm winter morning beckoned me for a walk, surrounded by woods, fields, and nature’s creatures.

I noticed a thick mist ahead and felt the pull of my desire to be within the white. Lost in thought, headed into the milkiness, I approached my destination only to discover that my sight was clear. The experience I expected did not manifest.

In momentary confusion, I looked back to see that the road upon which I travelled was now obscured. 



The mist touched every place but the circle in which I stood. I paused for a moment to breathe in the moist, still air. I engaged the present moment and the clarity it offered. Blind to what was behind or in front of me, I realized the benefit of clear sight when I was present, aware, and engaged with my body and my environment.

When I consciously joined the moment I was standing in, clarity arrived.

I’ve heard that sage advice many times: “be here now.” Yet, how often have I traipsed through my days trailing behind my mind which was peering into a murky future? Or getting lost in the mental mist of memory reconsolidated?

I took the opportunity to look into the forest, alive with a melodic stream, busy birds, and scampering squirrels.

Apparently, while I was cocooning indoors, the natural world had been actively preparing for Her perfectly timed reemergence. I don’t know why I was surprised that tiny seedlings had grown into small pine trees. Or by the evidence of greenery, flowing water, and new life everywhere. Perhaps the snow and persistent gray February skies in New Jersey had dulled my senses and distorted my memory.

Nature has always demonstrated how capable She partners with the evolutionary impulse.

Years of sitting, playing, and meandering in Nature have revealed so many wisdom lessons. I never had to look far to witness the emergence of Her latest work of art. Throughout cycles of seeding, nourishing, emerging, blossoming, and deteriorating, the natural world’s creative unfoldment has always been trustworthy. Laying down a Map of Wisdom for those with eyes to see and senses to clearly perceive the harmonious movement of Life.

Yet, Nature doesn’t need an audience to do Her thing.

She seeds, grows, dies, and rests to a rhythm so persistently harmonious. Nature’s emergence isn’t dependent upon social media “likes” nor does it require those seeking fresh air to stop and smell the roses. That’s why Nature’s wisdom is easy to miss. Especially when closed away in our homes, busy schedules, and distracted lifestyles.

As I walked, I pondered Life’s innate potential for perennial growth and the creation of beautiful spaces.

My sight was clear, as was my mind. Walking with my body, rather than racing ahead or lagging behind, a revelation emerged. It seemed new, like a seedling breaking through the soil, rather than an old intellectual understanding.

I, too, was a natural phenomenon.

 

Imbued with an innate ability to grow effortlessly and create beautifully in every cycle and season. 

Alert and aware, I recognized that I could walk blindly through the obscurification of a distracted life. Or choose to pause within any moment and breathe myself back into my body and the space it inhabited. I felt a subtle shift with that awareness.

As if my quantum substructure rearranged into new flowing patterns of harmonious light.

Honoring my innate trustworthy nature would allow me step out of my murky mind mist and show up within the midst of this Holy Moment. With Nature’s gentle reminder, I became more aware of myself as a trustworthy participant within this evolutionary process.

Relaxed and aware, I walked slowly within these natural, magical surroundings.

Gazing at the milky whiteness before me, I stayed present to the crisp clarity all around me. With ears to hear, I enjoyed the rustle of the wind and the crunch of tiny feet upon the leaves. I imagined tiny shoots of green just below the surface, biding their time and gathering their energy, before sneaking up toward the light. And I remembered what I have known all along.

I was at home in the midst. 


Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Filling my Pockets

Everywhere I look, there’s worthwhile work to be done. 

Our oceans are filled with oil spills and plastic garbage.  Our atmosphere is polluted and forests are disappearing at an alarming rate.  Worldwide,  we’re grappling with a pandemic.  Adults are losing jobs and unable to care for their families.  People of all ages are sick, lonely, dying, and afraid. Our country is divided on so many issues. 

People everywhere are filled with rage, despair, insecurity, sadness, hunger, and fear.

Everywhere I look, I see opportunities for worthwhile work. Important activism. Creative solutions. Helping hands. Witnessing our world leads me to speculate:  What to do?  What to do?  What skills are required?  What is the focus of my worthwhile work?

Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the questions and the need, I choose to sit still. 

Really still.  I wondered about the work I already do. And the worthwhile work that may be calling to me across the noise of my busy life.  “I thinked and thinked” as Winnie the Pooh would say.  And then, I didn’t think any more.  I guess you could say that I just “be-ed.”  In this state of beingness, a thought emerged: 

“If I could fill my pockets with only two things, I would carry Love in my right pocket and Kindness in my left.”  

I realized how these qualities help Life flow more easily for myself and others.  So, I pulled on my favorite jeans, stuffed Love and Kindness in my front pockets and headed out the door. 

Actions guided by Love and Kindness worked with people of every age, ethnicity and gender, across all walks of life.  They even worked on me. They worked in nature – pristine and damaged.  They worked across the internet and within the inner net.  These tools worked.  Although sometimes, I forgot to stuff my pockets. 

On those days, I walked under a cloud. Miserly in my misery until I ran across some kind, loving soul with pockets overflowing.

And I was helped to remember the power of love and kindness, applied flexibly and consistently throughout the day. Over time, I stuffed my pockets with Clarity and Wisdom, Fearlessness and Ingenuity, Humility and Grace, and the ability to Laugh and Cry with friends and strangers.  Along the way, I forgot the original question. I just chose to be Love and Kindness or whatever quality was called forth from me in the moment. 

It’s not an exact science, but it seems to work for me. 

Until I forget to fill my pockets. That’s where you come in. Your love, kindness, courage, and ingenuity helps me a lot. Thanks for that. And keep it flowing.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Lessons from a Blimp.

Many years ago, I was invited to take a ride in the Blockbuster blimp for my birthday. 

Yup.  That many years ago.  When renting video tapes was a thing. Arriving at a small airport in Northeast Philadelphia, I was startled by the size of the huge bullet-shaped “balloon.” Six strong men struggled to hold the blimp steady via long ropes. My friend yelled out, “This is going to be a hell of a ride!”

I saw an inconceivably small oval cockpit hanging beneath this floating behemoth.

I decided the butterflies in my stomach were from excitement as we squeezed into our seats.  Since it was my birthday, I had the front seat next to the pilot.  Lucky me. In a flash, those strong men were waving as our little engine chugged us forward.  It was surreal.

I thought of the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang movie while watching neighborhoods glide beneath us.

My husband’s seatbelt wasn’t secure and our gracious host in the miniature back seat wasn’t much help.  “No worries” said the pilot as he reached back to adjust the belt.  No worries?  The nose of the blimp moved rapidly toward the ground, giving me a full appreciation for the term, “nosedive.” 

Those butterflies weren’t only in my stomach anymore.

The pilot turned back and casually righted the blimp.  “See, nothing to worry about.”  Funny guy.  I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Immediately that familiar sensation of nausea came over me.  It never crossed my mind that a lifetime of motion sickness within all moving vehicles might extend to a blimp ride. I immediately got into management mode as I relaxed my body, set my gaze forward, and began breathing deeply.  Placing myself in an aware trance state, I focused the delight of flying.

“Kathy! Take a look. Your husband is turning green.”

Apparently we shared an affinity for blimp sickness.  Well, that man was on his own.  The pilot suggested they open a window. In a blimp? Good grief.  The backseat duo couldn’t get the damned window open, so the pilot reached back and battled with the sticky window. 

Another nosedive while moving through rough wind currents.

Happy birthday to me. I quietly scanned for an airsick bag.  Nothing.  As fresh air blew through our tiny capsule, I made a quick decision. I was gonna totally enjoy this novel experience. I decided my butterflies found it thrilling. After all, how often do you float over neighborhoods, rivers, and highways? I even snapped a photo of Philadelphia before we were turned away from the restricted city air space.

I gratefully realized I was halfway through my birthday adventure without losing my cookies.

My celebration was interrupted when the pilot asked if we were interested in heading to Willow Grove to see if we could fly in the air show.  Since I didn’t think I’d be flying fighter jets in the future, might as well try to show up in a blimp.  When else would I get a chance to be in an air show? 

Choosing to focus on the wonder of this otherworldly journey helped manage my discomfort.

I was hanging on by a thread when we got the message to “stay put” in case we could fit in the lineup. We’d been in the friendly skies nearing two hours and still had to make it back.  By the way, the back seat was doing just fine with their breezy window.  Enjoying some history and a tour of the grand estates in a ritzy area of town.

I’d love to tell you that we were the star of the show, but the Blockbuster Airship didn’t make the cut. 

All that extra travel for nothing!  Or was it? Reflecting on this gift of flight, I’m grateful I hadn’t recalled my motion sickness before we arrived. Or knew what a long, uncomfortable experience I’d have. I’m certainly glad I didn’t know anything about hanging in a mini cocoon under a gas filled balloon. Nor about nosedives and open windows.

All that knowledge would have definitely led me to worry and hesitation.

Which would have been an absolute waste of time and disrupted my birthday excitement. I learned motion sickness exists in the air and on the ground. And so does delight. As above, so below.  It all depends what you chose to focus upon.  Truth be told, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

In hindsight, the blimp was a walk in the park compared to the time I jumped out of an airplane. 

But, that’s another story entirely.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Looking for Kindness in all the Right Places

I merged with ease onto the highway, as I’ve done countless times before.

I slowed a bit to let the big white pickup truck with a trailer pass by before I claimed my space.  Gazing forward at the open road, I realized the pick up driver had moved over to make room for me.

I was struck by the kindness of that simple maneuver.   

Seriously struck. My heart warmed as those feel good chemicals zoomed around my brain and body.  In my mind, I was crystal clear that he had offered me a kindness.  It wasn’t just good driving protocol or a desire to save his shiny new truck from a potential run in. How did I know?  I’ve no idea, but I knew. 

So did my open mind, warm heart, and tingling body. 

I basked in that experience as I drove. Then a question arose. 

How many subtle moments of intentional kindness do I miss each day? 

I recognized that question offered me an invitation to play. So, I drove on – alert in my pursuit of kindness. The tiny, easy to miss kind.  Whether it was intentional or habitual didn’t matter.  Noticing what was already happening was.

I took a new route to keep me from going mindless while driving. 

Winding through neighborhoods on a lovely day surprisingly showed kindness everywhere. Drivers let others merge or walkers cross the street. A man picked up random trash. Doors were held in local shops. A lady kissed a neighbor’s dog.

Smiles exchanged. Lots of drivers waving at each other. 

The thank you, go ahead kind of waving. Nary a middle finger in sight.  

I stayed alert while exploring a new grocery store. 

A mom was kind to her frustrated child. Staff helped find stuff.  A young girl smiled as she paused in her stocking for me to roll my cart by. 3 times she paused and smiled. (I was a bit lost).  My cashier was to die for kind and even helped me put the cart away as I grabbed my bags by the front door. 

I went to Trader Joe’s next.  Happy.  Watching lots of nice people manage a crazy crowded parking lot.  

Same story indoors. After a bit of noticing all the help all around, I zoned out and stood in line.  I tuned in and felt the unity within me.  Happy.  Feeling the benefit of witnessing so much kindness.  I brought my attention outward and saw a laughing couple enjoying a really friendly cashier.

I heard ladies laughing behind me. Strangers apparently.  

Mind back on autopilot, I half heard a woman cheerfully mention she just got rid of a house full of tweens after a sleepover.  She had laundry in the washer and dishes in the dishwasher when her husband mentioned they were out of tea.  So here she was on Superbowl Sunday at Trader Joes with the rest of New Jersey. 

I was thinking that was mighty kind. 

I was thinking about how I felt after those sleepover days.  My husband would’ve been lucky to get a cup of tea. No way I would’ve run out for that one item. Let alone do it cheerfully. 

(Note to self - still more growing up to do.)

 

I heard her ask the manager, perched in his official birds nest, if he could ring up her 1 item. He didn’t have a register.

That woke me up. 

“Please, go in front of me.”   “Oh no, I couldn’t.”   “Please”  (really more like “Puleeeaase, it is so not a big deal).  It was a no brainer. 

“That was kind,” said the (really friendly) cashier. 

I hadn’t even thought about the kindness thing.  It just happened.  Habitual kindness.  Noticed and commented on.  I wondered if he might be playing the same game, so I smiled at him knowingly (sounds creepy when I write it).

Asking me to wait a second, he had a word with the floating manager. I packed my groceries and got my change. 

Then he handed me a tiny bouquet of flowers. 

“Thanks for being kind,” said my game playing buddy.  Intentional kindness met habitual kindness.  Really, truly sweet. 

It showed me a new level of the game. 

I could notice acts of kindness happening and I could intentionally create a few of my own.  I walked out and saw a woman struggle to lift her bags out of the cart. And leave the cart precariously poised to drift right into that shiny luxury car parked by the door. Intentionally, I returned the cart. 

Playing the game at this level – noticing and contributing – reminded me of my favorite square dancing move.

It’s been a (really) long time since my High School gym days, but I think it’s called a chain.  All cliques represented as we joined hands, laughed, danced, and wove through each other with great enthusiasm.  Once we all agreed square dancing was hokey and weird, we were free to thoroughly enjoy ourselves.

I remember that feeling of an open mind, warm heart, and tingling body.

It struck me then that Life invites us to play a lot of different games.  It doesn’t seem to matter which one you choose.  Just that it takes you into that warm, sweet experience of being a contributing part of this human family.   

I believe there is a lot of good going on in our world. 

Depends what you are looking for and what you’ve got to add. 

I hope you find your game today.

And discover the joy of playing, the playmates who await you, and that inner tingle. I hope you  inadvertently make someone’s day and cause a chain reaction of goodness. 

p.s.  I also remember playing with those little scooters in gym. Jumping on the trampoline. Routines on a tiny balance beam (8 inches off the floor).  Volley ball and my killer serve. Softball on gorgeous days.  Thinking back on it, gym class was so much fun. 

What about you?  I’m sticking with fun … as long as I block out days running around the track, playing basketball, and wearing that mandatory sleeveless, one piece polyester gym suit.

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions. 

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Light Bathing in my PJs

Sunday was a brilliant day as I found myself immersed within a day long practice of “Light Bathing.” 

This wasn’t my plan nor did that term pop into my mind until I was already deep within the process.  With my morning shake in hand, my plans rearranged themselves when I was called to engage my Soul in meditation.

Sitting in my pajamas on my back deck, journal nearby, I closed my eyes and dropped into the moment. 

The birds sang.  My neighbor swept his patio. Planes occasionally flew above me.  The breeze rustled my hair.   I wandered through a visually rich inner landscape.  My Soul Conversation was enlightening.   Amidst all of this movement, Stillness emerged.  

I felt lit from within as I basked in the warmth of the sun. I was light in every sense of the word.

 

Opening my eyes, I noticed my dog resting nearby. He looked regal as he soaked in the sun – totally at rest and seemingly content. I realized that he often sought the light patches in the house or spent time resting in the sun on the back deck. Totally at rest and seemingly content. 

Moving inside, my plans rearranged themselves again when I felt the desire to attend to my plants.  

This again was unexpected. After all, I had a Dead Plant Sale when I lived as a resident advisor in the undergraduate dorms during grad school.  I was clearly missing the ‘green thumb’ gene, yet here I was with a desire to tend to my plants.  I have only one type of plant in my home and office given my seeming inability to keep them alive. Whatever type of plant I have, it is very forgiving and truly resilient. 

I discovered that my plants were thirsty, the leaves wilted, and the vines long overdue for trim.  

So I watered them.  Trimmed them.  Talked to them.  Promised them more care.  Finally I moved them all into the light. 

When my husband came home, I informed him that our plants were “Light Bathing” until tomorrow.  

I was struck by that term.  I actually felt a warm pleasure throughout my body when it was said aloud.  I noticed that I had turned on the lights that day in all of the rooms around me – using light as an accent of the beauty and tranquility of my surroundings.  

Later in the day, while hiking in the woods, I noticed the presence of light everywhere.  
I walked through ribbons of light in the denser forest and in bright sunshine through the field.  When I prepared and ate my dinner, I blessed the food and those who brought it to me with Light.

I recognized that Light Bathing was not a new thing – it was a normal part of life.  My dog already knew this, as did my plants.

Creating a new art piece that evening, I felt the lightness of enthusiasm and enjoyment while translating an inner vision into physical form. I chanted while I worked and consciously poured light into every layer of the mixed media painting. 

My day ended with a practice to Steady the Light. 

I resourced my energy field – physical body with the vital life force arising from the Earth and descending from the Heavens. Grateful for the day, it was no surprise to discover that it ended much as it had begun …

I was light soaked.

 

Peace be with you and with all.  No exceptions.