Archive for January, 2011

My Path is Connected to All that Is


I realize that part of the moving experience is losing my current techy and communication connections and addresses and acquiring new ones in their place. I don’t like this part of moving because I don’t understand how these are done and undone. 


So this brings me to think about the connections I want  to keep in my human life, some of them have been hard worked for, others tested and found to be valuable, some are pure gifts. May they all come through this physical move in good health and spirit.         




Connect my heart to my life,

            my life to my being.

Connect my day to my joy.

Connect my prayer to my Source.


Connect my family to my love.

            Connect my eyes to all of creation.

Connect my soul to the good, the true, and the beautiful.

            Connect my taste to the digestion of justice and peace.


Connect my direction to just the next right thing.

            Connect my sorrow to the well of transforming waters.

Connect my intolerance to the channels of change

            needed to be made within me.


Connect my prayer to the power of the Word

            which makes it so when united

                with the highest Will of Good.

Connect my bodily health to the divine molecular structure.


Connect my will to the Divine tasks

            assigned to me. 

Connect my persistence to the trust in the labyrinth path

            that always leads to the center and back

                        out into the world again.


Connect my sitting bones to different couches so that

            I don’t forget I am on a journey.

Connect my gratefulness and gratitude for life

            to each morning sunrise.


Connect my confusion to the patience that the answers

            lie within and will not be kept from me.

Connect my tears to the memory that I am always

            nurtured, supported, and guided just

                        for the asking.


Connect me to the asking.


Connect my work with only that which is mine to do

            And then connect me with the courage

                        and love to do it.


Connect me with the awareness and truth

            that I am part of all that is –

Connect me with the Oneness of me

            and the Oneness of Thee.


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Sunset – Carmel, CA – photo by Susan H. Hajec

“I formed you and set you as a covenant of the people, a light for the nations.”  Is. 42:7 

The plain, brown, perforated cube shaped box sits on my desk near a spot where I sit early in the morning. But this description of the box is not accurate, for it is a gift from the heart and talented hands of my granddaughter who used her crayons to write a Mother’s Day covenant to me in her pure and simple language.

 “I love you” on one side…”You are the best” on the next…”Happy Mother’s Day” and a daisy on each of the other sides with a color motif to top it off on the cover.

So even in the dim light of early morning, my second grade granddaughter’s gift holds “a light for the nations” to my appreciative eyes. She started with what was at hand and it was a very ordinary, not impressive looking box, indeed.   Easy to overlook. But with her colors, words, and drawings, she made the simple into the sublime and with her gracious, honest expressions of love, I would never again look upon that as an ordinary box. It was now unlike all others.

Every relationship is not as magical as the grandparent-grandchild relationship but every relationship does contain a covenant intended to be acted upon — a covenant of peace, regardless of race, creed or religion. What would it be like to be a covenant of the people and would it then follow that we would be a “light for the nations”?

This scripture does serve as a reminder that the covenant of peace resides within us from our creator and gives us the impetus we need to be the best we can be in life’s easy and hard situations. We are not a plain, brown, box — we are the children of God — made in God’s image and likeness. That light needs to light up our world, one individual at a time.

Over the years, I have been fortunate to see this in action. Friends and people who serve others from their hearts and with their talents. Some are in ministry but most I’ve interacted with or become friends with simply serve others by sharing their gifts and talents, leading with self-respect and that opens their way to respecting others. It does create a light among the people.

A “light for all nations” is the still, small voice in us that guides us in the way of the Word on a daily basis. Everything in that voice beckons us toward peace and love for one another and stewardship for the world in which we live.

We may never be the one who sits at the international tables striving to bring peace to warring or about-to-be-warring nations. Yet every time we have the courage to make a true choice for peace and reconciliation in our own lives, we influence, in some unforeseen way, the peace processes going on around the world. “We must be the change we want to see,” said Ghandi.

Each time our actions originate from the place in us where the best resides and goes into our world with the intention of love, it is not a tiny thing. It is a light that person after person will attempt to respond back to with the best that is in them.

A light for all nations”, true…but the switch is in you and me.

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Tonight, I am dipping into my Writing Well and posting a writing from a few years back.

Sunrise in my Soul

I am watching a sunrise. It brings me out of my living room onto the deck on this October morning. The deck faces east — a perfect place to honor the sunrise for the day. My red, country flower adorned fleece jacket buffs the early morning temperatures.

Waiting and watching for the sunrise is a moment in the quiet. The statue of St. Francis is my solitary companion on the deck. In its quiet presence, I can still hear his praises of joy roll out across the hills of the Umbrian countryside of Assisi. “Praise to the sun who brightens our day” his canticle proclaims.

Birds dip and sway over my head in gatherings of seven or eight each. It is the dance of praise and the song of thanksgiving they perform on the stage of God’s blue sky of dawn. The sun is not yet in sight, but its promise grows brighter over the tree branches that rise beyond the condo rooftops. I watch the soft subtle rays of yellow, pink-gold and white blend into the gray-blue horizon bringing a spotlight of dawn washing across the sky.

I hear trucks in the distance, hinting of the activity that will soon wash me into my agendas for the day. But for now, I wait and watch. A breeze blows up and rustles the leaves of the tree in front of me. The leaves are now beginning to dull and brittle after a magnificent, colorful autumn. In their radiant witness to God’s glory, they now herald the coming of dawn with a fanfare of grace.

The sound of leaves in the breeze always stirs an alert deep within me. It says, “Listen, watch, be here now.” I open my mind and heart in willingness to be a channel of God’s inspiration. The breath of the leaves gives flight to to the Holy Spirit. I feel the Spirit’s presence lightly upon my skin in this cool morning air.

A sunrise in my soul requires a slowing down. I must look around and listen. And I must wait within. I have no agenda here. And then, a message peaks out at me as I am absorbed in daybreak. “No matter what — praise God!” A loud birdcall sounds out in the distance. My sense is that the bird has just told me “You have heard your message correctly.” The sun is not yet in sight, but the halo across the treetops grows brighter and promises its coming. I start my day in peace and praise.

                   “As soon as the sun of wisdom comes, it gives a
                     smile that lifts from the heart the delusive cloud
                     of despondence and bathes the garden of the soul
                     in the light of faith and power.” 
                                                      Paramahansa Yogananda

Today, my day begins with a smile of quiet peace in the chorus of birds and bids me to go forth stepping out in faith. I do what is mine to do. I offer it to the glory of God. Blessed be his holy name. In seeking his Will and desiring only that, the power of his Presence enfolds me in this day.

The sun rises above the trees. The sunrise now is so bright I can no longer look directly at it. It is the same with the glory of God and his power in my life.

I do not look directly into it. Instead, I am warmed and guided by its Presence.

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Sail along the reefs and coves inside your soul.”
                       Neil Diamond, Signs

Hey there! Neil Diamond fan here, for now and always. Yep, I grooved in my teen days to “My baby does the hankie-pankie” where the beat got me going. Being the only daughter raised in an Irish-Catholic household and receiving a Catholic education at a time when nuns and priests were the actual classroom teachers pretty much left any hankie-pankie out of my realistic choices.

But his later music when he wrote the lyrics and musical scores to Jonathan Livingston Seagull and ET and his albums of the 1970s through the 90s made my heart and soul respond in a truly spiritual way. I once wrote the outline of my life story book and all the chapters were titles of Neil Diamond songs. The title of the book was “Turn on Your Heartlight” inspired by the movie, ET, the lovable little space creature who only wanted to go home.

That’s what happened to me when I fell in love with Tom, my husband, soulmate, companion, lover, and life journey-creator for nearly fifty years now. I found home. Of course, the chapter about us in this still-to-be-written book would be “Heartlight” with appropriate permissions being given by Mr. Diamond, himself.

Occasionally in this blog, I will write on the subject of “Meanwhile…An Intuitive’s Approach to Living on Purpose”.  This means that a reoccurring theme in my life has been that my Capricornian sense of direction, meaning, and orderly outcomes has been uprooted and displaced. It is my intuitive, spontaneous, yet discerning Self that played havoc with many Five Year Plans written cohesively and pragmatically on paper.  Heartlight is the first of these stories to be shared, but not the first to have happened for I can trace them back to my birth, itself, where it is God’s plan at work, not my own.

Here we go. When I met Tom in my junior year of college, I was planning on getting my degree in Education from Michigan State University, buying a beetle bug Volkswagen and traveling to California to begin both teaching and my real life, since I lived in my parent’s home through college graduation.

Meanwhile, this guy kept pulling up in my driveway in his black VW bug, taking me out, and putting himself deeper and deeper into places of my heart. We went to sporting events, saw the New Christie Minstrels in concert, went snow skiing together and before I knew it, I was in love with him and his whole family.

We married one week after my college graduation and drove down to Lexington, Kentucky to begin our united life work together. We brought our two daughters into the world, believed in being a force for good in the world and, besides that, we travelled to California a couple of times in our lives up to this point. Maybe more in the future, who knows?

 I had to practice this thing called change for it became very real for me. Some I couldn’t resist — like marrying Tom. But I did not jump for joy over all of the changes in the menu. Yet with the information I had at hand, and that darn intuition edging me along, most if not all of them, seemed to be right at the time.

Pay some prices along the way? Yes, we did. Make some hard decisions; with much thought and mutual concern, we did. Trust each other and garner support when needed; we depended on this.

The year of 1976, the American 200 Year Bi-Centennial was a particularly uprooting and tumultuous time in our life. We picked up and left our Kentucky suburban homeownership life and struck out for life near Chicago. It was a basic recharging of our batteries and life-values and a time-out in life for Tom to decide how he wanted to change his work style. It was a noisy time of fear and challenge for me.

At that same time, Neil Diamond’s “Beautiful Noise” album and concert tour prominently hit the spotlight. Being a huge Neil fan, that title perfectly reflected how I felt about that year of change, only maybe not so beautiful. Like he sings in the song…”it had its own kind of beat”.

The lyrics to “Signs”, one of the songs in this collection, is my life alma-mater. I am one of the ones who is led by signs. I envy some of the others he describes in the song….”some are born who never need them, others, still, who never heed them…signs.”

The trouble is signs are not easy to explain to others. They just seem to have an intrinsic value to the one who does heed them. Looking back now, (and I do not believe hindsight is always perfect), I have come to realize these unexplainable signs actually led me to living a life of purpose in ways I could not even have imagined. They kept me living an inspired, if unpredictable, life.

And I like knowing that now.

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This is a little rewind of my day. You know, like going back on the DVR that I don’t know how to operate. But if I can get Tom to do it, I can try to catch a line I missed that probably had some creative writing opportunity for me.

Tom recorded Titantic for me when it was on TV a couple of weeks ago. I wanted it because there is a beautiful line spoken by the older Tess (I’m hoping I remember her name, my daughter is not answering her phone to tell me), just as she begins to tell her story.

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” she says. “I can still  almost smell the paint on the newly painted grand hall banister.”  That’s paraphrased, but I’ll get it when we watch it tomorrow night on our TV movie night date.

When we saw it the first time in the theater, I poked poor Tom in the ribs, and was yes, pulling a napkin out of my pocket to write it down in the dark theater. That’s the kind of interruption you suffer when you sit next to a writer who experiences what she sees and hears, not just as entertainment, but as a seed for something else which perhaps wants to grow.

Tom knows this well by this time, as our walks are interruped as I chat with a stranger I’ve just met along the way or take several photographs of a scene offering up newness in each angle like the carats on a diamond, or lose the consciousness of a conversation we’re having, because I get held up on just one idea stemming from it. When I offer up apology, he just graciously says….”I know.” 

It’s Thursday night and I was getting anxious to post on the blog. I thought I would settle for reading my email, and get to the blog tomorrow afternoon. But many of my emails were from friends like you either confirming I am the actual person writing it, or better yet signing up as a follower. Well, that makes my day and I am very grateful. Very grateful!

Then the strangest thing happened. My computer started to freeze up and I had to restart it several times. It does this often when I go from email to a facebook tag. The third time I shut down and brought it back up, it gave me a screen of vertical lines, didn’t try to start windows or anything. I think my face looked like those verticle lines.

Of course I did the sensible thing. “Tom,” I shouted.  “Help me.” He came down. I calmly told him the sequence of events and rationally stated that perhaps I had tried to restart too soon and the computer just didn’t understand what I was asking it to do. And that maybe the best thing to do would be to leave it alone tonight and I would get to it tomorrow in the afternoon. Because then he could work on it in the morning while I was at yoga, and I wouldn’t see any of the things that scare me on the screen when they are not what I expect.

He thought this was a good idea and said so. But by this time, I am thinking that if the computer hasn’t blown up but it is thinking about blowing up, maybe while he was sitting here, I should just try to start it again,….and if it came up, I would only read my e-mail and not ask the computer to do anything hard or even two things at one time.

It came up. I read my e-mails and since I now have some blog followers, I am still sitting here on this working computer doing my Thursday night blog.

Just before all that, I spent prayer and healing time in my Reiki area and finished that with giving Tom his weekly treatment. He soaked up all that heat and Reike (Universal Life Force)  as my hands went over him, and he fell into a deep, deep sleep.

I stayed with him for about fifteen minutes afterward until he came out of his deep relaxation. Every time I get to share this great gift with others, I feel so enriched by the Presence of God, I just can’t miss the sacredness of it.

Before that, it was left-overs for dinner after we returned from our classes at the health and fitness center. The first part of the day was taken up in preliminary preparations for our (yes, once again) upcoming move, made necessary to improve our rent situation.

I’ve felt blessed to be in the townhome we presently occupy, and had to move past the big R — resistance — to a move of any kind, but it was really called for, so now we are in moving forward mode and we are moving ……all the way across the street!

A complex right in front of us all this time, that we did not discover until two hours before we were telling the current landlord we would be moving out, even if we didn’t know where. We’ve just never lost that adventuresome spirit, I guess.

Well, the only two good things I can think of right now about this move are: 1) Since we already downsized a lot, coming back from North Carolina two years ago, it will not be a ridiculous mamoth task — just big enough, and 2)  One of the things I like about this residence is our large bedroom window, both in our master, and in my writing desk room — and because we had my favorite kind of snowfall today,  fluffy, lightly drifting, tumbling soft flakes to the ground in front of a tree background, I had a perfect snow meditation time as I worked in those two rooms. 

All in all, a good day, even as a rerun.

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I can hear them, but I wish I could remember better what the lyrics of the Mamas and Papas were saying about Monday, Monday…..because I have a dusie ahead of me tomorow.

I committed  to posting on Mondays, so I add that to the dusie. Or maybe it’s doosie, whatever the case — I am going to Do Monday in grace.

I am now going to try something I have no idea whether it will work or not: a cut and past from my Facebook.

Hee, hee it did work and I am going to work with it. As the “Dusie” was in progress of making itself known over the weekend, this Angel communication came to me from a now new found friend, Kerrace Alexander. I told you in the initial blog, “Writing on Napkins” that I would be introducing you to the Mystic Muses in my life….and most of these arrive in some mysterious manner.

I just happened to love the words of Kerrace’s prayer from the heart and so I looked up a little about her on her website, sent her a brief message. And what returned to me was no less than pure Grace — the kind of grace that picks you up off the floor where you feel like you are residing, puts octane in the circulation vessels that have felt flattened and blocked and connects your energy circuits to the bright light all around your body.

I have given my year of 2011 the name of My Year of Alignment with all that’s good.  Then a couple of quickly exchanged communications with a “complete stranger” “aligned me on a path I wish to travel and supported me in a purpose that is deeply rooted in me.  Below are just a couple of the communications, but say hello to yet another Mystic Muse I am sure I will travel with.

And, oh yes, back to Monday —  I will followup on the editor’s invitation to submit some of my poetry for consideration in an upcoming publication. I will continue to heal in the loss and life tradegy of a brother-in-law, and give my grace as I can to my three nephews in their path of grief; yes, I will put ink to paper and sign a new lease for a different residence no matter how anathma even the thought of moving is to me; and yes, I will work out some mother-helper and grandmother-companion activities to ease the overfilled, responsibility-laden lives of the young caught up in life in the fast lane, and doing marvelous, talented, gifted work in that lane, while tending their loving families. 

 Best of all, I will remain faithful to the quiet — the quiet I need in my daily life to hear and write and be the things I need to be.

Monday, Monday — bring it on.

Kerrace Alexander’s Prayer to the Divine Presence:

 “You so inspire me to be, do and have more in my life and work! At the deepest core of my being you allow me to be myself! I am in awe by the very thought of your embrace! I thank you creator for making me in your image I am truly humbled by the miracles you create and I know that your Devine plan is unfolding in LOVE and GRACE and so it is! I am in Gratitude for being you!


January 5 at 11:15am · · Comment · View Feedback (17)Hide Feedback (17) · Share
      Susan Heffron Hajec I have been practicing the Presence and keeping a journal of it for 12 months…. I don’t think I have prayed to the Presence as beautifully and honestly as you have done in the words above. I wonder what makes me withhold.
      22 hours ago ·
    • Kerrace Alexander it is working with the heart! when we open the heart and speak from that place we connect with our creator at the deepest level! this is where all my writing come from connection to the creator streaming from the heart! in light and love!

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Dad & Sue’s Birthdays – 1970

My birthday comes right after New Year’s Day on January second. I celebrate it. Just after my birthday comes my father’s birthday on January fourth. I always remember it. This year, dad would have been ninety-six. He died suddenly in July 1977.

Dad was a fun-loving, hard-working Irishman from Heffron heritage who loved Eisenhour, both as a military general and an American President. The black Chevrolet was his choice of car for many years before he could think of owning any other car.

Born in upper Wisconsin, his boyhood bore both the harshness of the seasonal weather and the responsibilities of the oldest son, providing for his mother and younger sister after his woodsman father passed away while he,  Anthony Junior (Tony), was still young.

He attended teachers college for a certificate, and began trading “trades” to raise more money for his own keep and for his family. He was proud of teaching in a “one-room” schoolhouse like we heard of in the Little House on the Prairie tales.

He was a police officer on the Eau Claire Wisconsin police force in the late 1930s and early 1940s and really did catch “the bad guys” with his parnter, Scotty. He had a brown scrapbook, now in my brother’s possession, that contained medals, photos, and newspaper clips of many “take-downs” during his law and order career. More than a few photos displayed dad and his fellow law officers, standing with one leg hitched up upon the running board of that era’s car — their chase vechicle.

He met the first love of his life, my birth mother, when he experienced a stay in the hospital (I believe it was Luther, but it could have been Sacred Heart Hospital, I am not sure) to pass a kidney stone which was giving him great grief. While there, he was in the care of a beautiful Norweigian nurse named Doris, whom he began to court with his wild, Irish charm.

 You would have to look hard and long through their dating and early marriage black and white photos to find a “serious” pose among them. Together they were always “horsing around” with each other or making fun of whoever was behind the camera. Always, their bright white teeth flashing in wide smiles or outright belly-laughter.

Into this family I was born, after dad and Doris had adopted my older brother from a Catholic orphanage. Mom convinced dad that nobody could love this orphan baby boy the way they could together, and home they came with Dave.  Soon after his arrival, mom became pregnant with me. But it was a troubled pregnancy and she delivered me early with etopic poisoning, complicated by kidney failure. She died just a few days after my birth and dad’s birthday. 

Dad was only in his late twenties when this personal tradegy came upon him. He had a young son and daughter to care for in the aftermath, and I can only guess how he healed his grief, for it was a mysterious fact that this was never discussed in the family with us children, even when we reached adulthood. It is a conversation I wish I would have had the courage to start. I certainly practiced it often enough.

I do know he never had any doubts about providing for his two children as a widower single parent and he set forth with strong determination to do so, enlisting two grandmothers’ help along the way. Dad left the police department in search of more income to support his growing family, and managed a sports store, still in Eau Claire.  

By the time I was around two years old, another brunette Norweigian woman caught his eye and his heart and Marion would come into our home as his wife and our new mother. This love affair lasted forever — or to say correctly — to the time of his death in 1977 and long after that in Marion’s heart until she could no longer remember any of us due to the memory robbery visited upon her in Alzheimers disease.

Tony and Marion gave birth to my youngest brother, John and we were one complete family of five from the 1940s until the mid-sixties when we children started forging our own paths in life; Dave in the Coast Guard; Sue married and moved to Kentucky; and John finishing up high school.

Dad was in the propane gas business by that time, managing a plant in Lansing, Michigan when an opportunity arose around 1968 to transfer his talents and work to a tropical paradise, St. Thomas, Virgin Island and manage a plant there. They did that together, mom working for the company too. It was a magic “begin again” moment for both of them and they loved living and working there and building new friendships and awarenesses with island culture. 

They didn’t really take up sea fishing there in the tropics but when they lived in Wisconsin and Michigan, it was one of their favorite pastimes and their most ideal vacation.

They had a favorite spot in Chapleau, Ontario where they stayed in a rustic cabin at Moosehorn Lodge, became faithful friends of the owner-couple and traveled there yearly for a one week vacation on the crystal blue water lakes in a quiet little dinghy putt-putt motor boat. This would be accompanied by rest and relaxation in the cabin and great home-cooking of fresh lake fish, fried potatoes and veggies.

In 1977, now living in the VI, they had not been to Canada for quite some time. That year, they were looking into a cruise trip to their home countries of Ireland and Norway, but there was some holdup in aquiring their passports and dad decided to scrap the whole idea and come back to Lansing, borrow a car from Dave, and drive up to Moosehorn Lodge.

This change of plans was a blessing in disguise, although none of us in the family felt immediately blessed by what happened on the second day of their vacation. Dad felt tired so they relaxed in the cabin the first day of vacation. But on the first fishing trip the next day, dad suffered a fatal heart attack  in the boat and died instantly even though mom tried to help with CPR. After securing the boat in the obscure landing area, she got an ambulance through the help of the lodge owners. Thus began a quick trip ito the hospital in Chapleau, but a rescue of dad’s life was not possible.

Yet, Dave and John were able to be with mom soon after the distressing news which would not have been possible had mom and dad gone to Europe as planned.  The shock value of dad’s death couldn’t have been higher for mom or for us. One month earlier, my husband and I just moved and started a business in a town not far from Lansing, and I was awaiting dad and mom’s visit to us when they returned from Canada, in just one week.

It had been over a year since I had seen them, and so much had changed in our life since we acquired the business that I was truly counting the days until I would see them and talk to them again. That I would not talk to my dad ever again became a bitter, bitter pill to swallow.

 The complete opposites of “saying hello” and having to “say goodbye” was a battle I played out in my soul for a long time after. Eventually, I penned a poem on paper, and set it on the backdrop paper from which I have my Mystic Muse with the bell coming forward. The trees remind me of the Canadian country mom and dad loved so much. Today, dad, my spirit says “hello” to your spirit, just as it has done each year near your birthday.

Canadian Pines

                                         He left without
                                                   saying good-bye
                                         amidst Canadian pines
                                                    and placid blue lakes.
                                         I had meant to say hello
                                                     before he would go.
                                          But the chance
                                                     passed me by.

                                           He was not a continent away
                                                     as had been their plan
                                           to visit for the first time
                                                     each of their native homelands.
                                            They came instead
                                                      that hot week in July
                                             to his favorite place on earth.

                                              His tired and restless spirit
                                                       would feed
                                                on lake-fresh fish
                                                         he caught.
                                                 And the peace he found
                                                         in the northern breeze
                                                 always soothed his troubled heart.

                                                 He would rest and relax
                                                         and have fun with his mate
                                                 in the place which he
                                                          so loved.

                                                  And then —
                                                          he would visit me.

                                                  But he left instead
                                                         at the end of the day
                                                   before he got off the lake.
                                                   It broke my heart he had                                                             to go.
                                                   Because you see, I still had meant
                                                            to say




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Always, We Begin Again,” is the title of a small, almost pocket-size , book I found last summer in the Island Bookstore on Mackinac Island.  Written by John McQuiston II, it is a language modernization of the Benedictine Way of Living, according to the Rule of St. Benedict. The original rule was written in the sixth century in Italy and is a set of directions for monastic life.

I begin this post telling you about it because we, in the year of 2011, have just come through another time of thinking about the direction of our own lives. It follows the tradition of the American way and prompts the ambitious among us to formulate some New Year’s Resolutions.  Make them or not, the first part of January always includes some reflection on most people’s part about how they want to approach this  new year in front of them.

For a very long time now, I have broken down these things called resolutions for a year, into a more chewable portion of time — let’s say, a day! And I don’t call them resolutions. I call them — intentions. I do take them seriously and let them guide me into the day, ride with me through the week, and set longer term sights on them for months that turn into a year.  See, that’s the part, where I often get a chance to “begin again”. Oops, I missed that day — start again, now.

But, let’s face it!  I just have much better odds at living a day like I intend, than a whole year.  And several days of doing “the next right thing” add up. Even when I’m not counting. They add up, positively, in my behavior and emotional status.

After the day takes care of itself, I eventually get to look back on a year that seems to have gone much like I hoped it would. A surprise here and there, yes. Pop up things I have no control over appear, you bet. Many things I have to work with a day at a time eventually reach and cross the goal line. Some things I wish would have gone better, pretty certain to happen.

But all in all, the adventure and creativity of living one day at a time has become a greatly rewarding way for me to live and so much more meaningful than one set of resolutions per year.

I went to my yoga class this morning and got to park in the back part of the parking lot of the fitness center, so it appears many people today are in tune with their resolution to  get more exercise.  Will that be true on February 3, 2011?

Perhaps we tend to take up and put down some of the aspects of our lives we want a little more control over, and that is why I particularly like the title of the book I mentioned above:  “Always, We Begin Again.”

 Because we always can — begin again. Every “next moment” carries the opportunity to begin again — a task, a mood change, a tough problem to solve, a letting go. Beginning again in mind, body, and spirit is the magic solution that clears our path for the best opportunity to be right with ourselves and with others.  Below is a special part of the book to me and I read it often.

page 19:

…”When we rise from sleep let us rise for the joy
of the true work that we will be about
this day,
and considerately cheer one another on.
Life will always provide matters for concern.
Each day, however, brings with it reasons for joy;

Be gentle with this life,
And use the light of life
to live fully in your time.”

Happy New Day and Happy New Year to you.

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