Tag Archives: Peace

Serenity Prayer 2.0

Standard
  • A little update to the old standby, this prayer spilled from my heart one day. I pulled over to jot it down. Here it is, in case you might need it too.

Lord,

Grant me the serenity to accept reality and face it head-on with you,

the courage to do what is right,
the faith to let go of what is not mine to do,
and the wisdom to see which is which. . . and when.

Grant me the power to love beyond my personal triggers,
the patience to respond supportively when others are venting and reacting,
the perspective to see when it is time to draw a line,
and the fortitude to let my yes mean yes and my no mean no.

I thank You for your everlasting kindness and the apt and ample supply of your Holy Spirit, that we may indeed have those things we ask for in faith.
Amen.

Audio version, click for my podcast link here: JOAN T WARREN PODCAST SERENITY 2.0

No Need for Eyes to See This

Standard

This morning my granddaughter put on How to Train Your Dragon.  Again.

I sat nearby, reading and thinking, writing a bit, occasionally paying slight attention to the movie.

“In centuries of Vikings, I’m the first one who wouldn’t kill a dragon,” Hiccup sulked to Astrid. Feeling the failure of not living up to his culture’s expectations, feeling the sting of disappointing his father, Hiccup doubted himself. Astrid saw beyond this temporary setback:

“Yeah, the first one who was right.”

 

Hiccup had decided to spare the dragon when he looked into its eyes and realized, “He was just as afraid as I was.” Hiccup saw with the eyes of his heart.

His compassion, as it turned out, changed everything. It changed his father. It changed his village. It changed dragons. It changed him.

We like to think we are far more advanced than the world of Vikings and dragons. But are we?

Do we see with the eyes of our hearts?

Do we find the good?

image

©Joan T. Warren

Hang on. Or, Let go.

Standard

image
 

Walking out from yoga class tonight, I stopped. A beautiful clutch of autumn leaves held on, unashamed to be the last among all that was gray and dismal.

It is January, in North Florida.

 

I thought of all the times that I’ve heard people say, “Hang on. . . just hang on.”
 
I thought of all the times I’ve heard people say, “Let go. . . just let go and let God.”
 
I thought about how many times it’s been good to hold on, and how many times it’s been good to let go.
 
I thought about the years I struggled, trying so hard to hold on, or trying so hard to let go. Because they said so.
 
Now, at peace. . . with letting go. . . with holding on. At peace with wherever a person is in that process.
 
When it is time to let go, you will know it, and you will be able to let go. When is time for you to hold on, you will know it, and you will be able to hold on.

So hold on, or let go.

Namaste,  salmon leaves of January.

Namaste, Tree Maker.

Namaste, friends.

©Joan T. Warren

It’s not all about what’s inside.

Standard

These days we have disposable containers, because what matters is what’s inside. Right?

image

Besides, what’s inside is not the same as the container, right?

Not so, on either count. Often the two are so melded, so interactive, so mutually dependent, that we just can’t separate them. We can’t value them separately, either.

Take, for example, a good book and its cover. Oh, you don’t think so? Well, how about Uranium-235 and its core container? Or, here’s a good one: the inner self and its human body.

image

Successful grandkids: My granddaughter contained my grandson the troll, in an unexpected snare.

We are quite attached to these bodies, our containers.

Think about it; when we were little, we’d fall and scrape our knee, and it hurt. We cried. Our inner selves felt as if the world was coming to an end; at least until some sweet and very tall human kissed it, bandaged it, and promised, “No Mercurachrome.”

As children, we saw dead bugs, dead flowers, maybe even some dearly loved dead pets. Our inner selves realized those dead ones aren’t coming back. Most of us learned to be more careful with our bodies, to avoid the pain–and, hopefully, not go away forever.

I know I did. I wanted to grow up to be . . . alive! Then, when I grew up, I wanted to live to raise my daughter. Then, to see my grandchildren succeed. Still, I want to live, to create gifts for future generations.

Speaking of grandkids, I’ve seen this generation grow up playing war and street-gang video games, with avatars instead of real people. They don’t even flinch as they gun down innocent bystanders in the midst of the game. On top of that, the heroes get right up and keep going.

But life is for real, and so is death.

Many religions teach us about the inner person, the spirit, and a glorious afterlife. These teachings are inspirational. They are vital, compelling and comforting. Yet something about this begs more.

Maybe it’s the poor track record religion plays in war and peace.

Maybe it’s the impersonal way many religions try to comfort those who mourn.

Or maybe it’s the fallout of valuing inner, spirit-life as eternal, while considering the containers disposable.

Ask anyone who has lost a loved one; it’s not easy to separate the person from the container that now is gone. There is no one in their arms to hold. The loved one’s laughter no longer fills the room. Yes, the memory remains, and gives some comfort. A little comfort. To the grieving widow, child, and friend, though, the container is gone, and so the person inside.

Last year on this day we lost our beloved . . . been in a daze for over a year. . .

 

Containers are important.

With so much talk about what is in the container, what about the container itself? With such emphasis on inner life, and on the glorious afterlife, do we devalue the precious containers that are vital to achieving our purpose here on earth?

Just tonight, I opened my refrigerator to get a salad I hadn’t been in the mood for yesterday. Having not been sealed in a container, the salad had wilted. I regrouped, and slid it into the juicer with the other veggies. As the juice flowed out, I wondered: what if there were no container to hold the juice? That juice would have spilled out, rather than fulfilling its purpose– to nourish my body.

Our bodies–our containers–are important. They are more than avatars in a game! Take care of your body and treasure what it holds. Encourage others to nurture their bodies. Respect life in others. Feed your bodies with healthy, organic food. Exercise regularly in whatever way you can, building up to and maintaining your best physical state. Take care of the relationships and the planet we need for our containers’ survival. Live in balance: work, rest and play.

For without your container, how will your purpose here be fulfilled?

image

 

For we hold these treasures in jars of clay –II Cor. 4

 

Joan T. Warren
Heart to Heart in a Shielded World

This post grew from:

Containers | The Daily Post
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_photo_challenge/containers/

And further developed into a mystery ending with encouragement from:
Mystery Ending | The Daily Post
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/telephone/

This is Where

Standard

This is where blue meets blue, with open arms,
where rainbows signal safe from harm.

This is where dinosaurs meld into angel wings,
where sand crabs wiggle and sea gulls sing.

This is where sea turtles race to the moon at night,
where sailboats glide and swallows take flight.

This is where footprints hint the path behind,
where shoreline paints an easy line.

This is a place of reverence:

where things, once muddled, now make sense,

where troubles pale in light of Thee,

where souls connect in reverie–

a place of merging land and sea,

a place perspective calls to me.

 

photo courtesy Denesia Christine

photo courtesy of Denesia Christine

©Joan T. Warren