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Archive for October, 2014

emotikin-bluedoor600

Blue doors have been my thing for a very long time. I’ve always claimed blue as my favorite color, sometimes periwinkle, sometimes cornflower. But blue. I’ve never had a blue door though I’ve painted blue walls.

I have a blue door in the alpine meadow of wildflowers where I go when I meditate really deep. It stands there, no walls, in the middle of the meadow, as if I’m supposed to go through.

But I couldn’t. I would sit down with my back against the door. I heard a laughing invitation to just walk around the side, that I didn’t have to go through. But I couldn’t. I was stumped.

Another time, not long ago, I landed in my meadow out of the blue. I opened the door. Beyond it was a dark midnight sky full of stars. I stepped through and soared through the stars for a bit, tethered to the doorway by a silver cord. I didn’t stay long.

A few weeks ago, I finally stepped all the way through, not just that door but a whole series of doors. I erased some hard parts of the past, walked down paths now easier to see and to choose. And I heard, “Trust and believe. Expect miracles.”

I didn’t expect what happened the very next day. I saw my blue door, live and in person, around the bend in an old country road, in front of a cottage for sale, with a tree swing out front. I screeched the car to a halt and pointed. “Look! A Blue Door!”  We sat there in awe. Then we got out of the car.

bluedoor-sq-600

bluedoor-opening600This blue door beckoned. It seemed to lead to a land of bliss and enchanted forests and talking trees and one friendly sit-on-your-shoe kind of squirrel. The cottage holds a piano, built-in bookshelves, and wrap-around windows with a view to the sea. Only a cane in the corner would have made it feel like our own Miracle on 34th Street. It seemed to say, here is your doorway to heaven. You’re welcome. Come in.

So the question is whether this cottage for sale, this land of bliss, this tree swing, this door, this meadow with room for a horse and some chickens, is supposed to be ours.  It sure feels like a soul sign. It sure feels like a miracle.

I do know, at the least, that this real-life blue door is a sign from my soul to pay attention to miracles. To pay attention to gifts that come out of the blue. To open the door and walk through, with courage not fear. With hope, not with doubt. With wonder and more wonder and more wonder yet, and some patience to wait for the answer to “I wonder what this all means?”

I don’t know the answer. Not yet. We’re doing some work called Logistics and Research. That hard human work that makes miracles happen for real. Or at least invites the result. Accepting the invitation to a miracle takes as much courage and work as you can muster, it seems.

And I’m waiting to see if the sign was a “Yes, this is your home.” Or if it means something else. Trust and believe can mean anything. But I do believe in blue doors. And I believe that miracles might have a different answer than the one I first thought of. I don’t know the answer. Not yet. I just hope I am asking all the right questions so the right answer will come when it’s time.

Trust and believe.

Fingers crossed.

 

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Tuesday night felt like one of the last
I could get to the beach before the sun said goodnight.

Shorter days, longer nights shouldn’t make me so sad.
It’s part of the plan. Those seasons.

High tide greeted me when I arrived.
The pink gold glow would have pleased Van Gogh.

high tide greeted me

I climbed out on a log to watch two ducks
the waves,
and the sunset.

silly ducks

The same couple of ducks that nipped at my ankles
last Friday, protecting their puddle on the path.
Silly ducks.

A labrador jumped on the sand and scared the ducks into the tide.
Silly oblivious dog. Ducks remained unamused.

soaking up the sun

I stood to salute the October sky.

I wished I could swim, float, dance on the sea.
Instead I do-si-do’d with the tide.

I do-si-do'd with the tide

As the sun sank over the edge
I offered to return some green to the sea.
Emeralds woven into a scarf for the mermaids.

Then the sun kissed my head as it left for the day.

the sun kissed my head

 I stepped back on the path, not wanting to leave.
Lingering like the light, I stayed one minute more,
saluting the pink as it finished painting the sky.

Pink in the sky, silhouettte

Good night, Puget Sound.
Thank you, high tide.

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