Tag: purpose

Symbiosis

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment

I was stirring
honey in my tea
when through the
kitchen window
I spied the bright red
cardinal who had
established himself
Chief of the Yard.
He flight-paced
between the empty feeder
and a mimosa limb.
When he paused,
he looked right at me.
I swear he did.

His angry cardinal
glare and fiery
feathers, all ruffled
and fluffed, set
my priorities.
Tea down,
I went out to the shed
for the bucket of
seed and walked
toward the feeder,
unnoticed,
then noticed,
a flash of red diving into
the honeysuckle.

Alone at the tree,
still, I felt watched.
Watched, as I reached
for the feeder,
set it on the ground,
fed it scoopfuls
of black oil
sunflower seeds,
and returned it,
full, to its limb
in the mimosa.

Back at shed distance,
I saw Chief
return and perch,
his beak stabbing,
shells flying,
a black hailstorm
summoning
the female cardinal
and the finches
and the wrens
and the chickadees
who must have been
watching from places
unseen.

We watch each other
for different reasons,
Chief and I.
He watches for food.
I watch for beauty and
flight and poetry.
Reciprocal stalkers
in search of sustenance.
I feed, he eats,
and we are
both filled,
sated with
magnesium and
purpose. 

© 2020 Deb Moore, All Rights Reserved

Ambrosia

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment

I saw a picture of myself from childhood,

a picture I had never seen before,

a reflection of my seven-year-old self

frozen in time for 49 years

without me even knowing

it existed.  

 

A friend sent it to me.

“Just ran across this.  

Thought you’d want to see it.” 

I opened the email attachment

and looked into my own face,

recognizable, but unfamiliar.

 

I was sitting on a sled,

guide rope in hand,

forced to pose when really

all I wanted to do was race

down the hill

again and again.

 

I looked determined. 

I looked like I had a 

sense of purpose. 

I didn’t need anybody’s 

permission or approval.

I just needed to fly over

the icy crust of a 

Michigan snow.  

 

My father was in the picture

dressed in 1970s cool,

I suppose, 

if 1970s cool was

Siberian Robin Hood.  

 

My sister was there,

and the friend who sent 

the picture.  

I was glad to have the memory

of a day I didn’t recall,

of a time I couldn’t forget,

of a child I couldn’t remember.  

 

I wanted to race back 

through time 

to warn her

not to lose her Self. 

I wanted to tell her to 

never seek permission,

to always trust the sled

and fly down hills at

full speed.

 

I wanted to tell her

to savor each moment

like ambrosia with

a fast-approaching

sell-by date.  

 

Instead, 

she told me.  

© 2020 Deb Moore, All Rights Reserved

How the Universe Talks to Me

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment

It’s usually through a series of otherwise unconnected but often chronologically proximal events that the Divine chooses to send me messages.  A theme emerges.  A thread becomes spiritually visible.  A connection is made.  And the message is undeniable.

Item 1:  A few years ago, I was part of developing a new theme at the Unity church where I attend and am involved in leadership.  The theme was “authentic transformation.”  It was what I felt I was undergoing and what I believed to be core to the spiritual journey.  Every Sunday morning in my roll as “platform person” at Unity of Music City in Old Hickory, TN, I say something to the effect of “Welcome to Unity Music City, a place of authentic transformation.  It’s who we are.  It’s what we do.”

Item 2:  A year or so ago, I had the privilege of meeting Michael McRay when he was speaking at Unity of MC about his reconciliation work in Israel and Palestine.  I saw him again at a workshop for Narrative4, a story-telling reconciliation practice he facilitates.  I saw him a third time just a couple of weeks ago when he conducted a Narrative4 workshop at the college where I teach.  What strikes me every time I hear Michael is that he is a very young man (28? 29?) who is able to clearly communicate his purpose.  Michael will state in no uncertain terms “This is my purpose, and these are the ways I express it in the world.”

Item 3:  During a recent Wednesday night class at Unity of MC, the idea of purpose entered the discussion.  My dear friend and minister, Denise Yeargin, said, “I know my friend, Deb, is a teacher, and a darn fine one, but I also know that is not her purpose.  Am I right?”  And she looked right at me.  I said, “You’re right.”  It was as if the Universe was saying, “You’ve danced around this for a while now; it’s time to turn it into a declarative statement.”  I hesitated for just a moment, and then I said, intuitively, “My purpose is enthusiasm.  My purpose is to help others find enthusiasm in life.”

Item 4:  I went home that night and looked up “enthusiasm” once again.  I had looked it up before, and I knew that it meant something akin to “God within.”  But when I looked this time, I found a more definitive translation from the original Greek that I don’t remember ever seeing before.  It was “possessed by the essence of God.”  Oh, brother.  That about brought me to my knees.

Item 5:  I posted something on Facebook about a successful teacher moment.  For me, a successful teacher moment is when a student expresses some newfound enthusiasm for their journey because of something that happens in my classroom.  In the comments on the post, one of my former students, from way back in my second or third year of teaching, said this, “You’re a transformational educator . . . always have been.  Thank you for your heart, mind, and spirit!  You are one of the best to ever do it! #thankGodforTSU #freshmanhonorsenglish #myfave #abetterwriterforit”  Okay, so that totally rocked my world, but what really stood out to me was that word “transformational.”

The last meeting with Michael McRay, the Wednesday night class, and the former student’s comment happened within 10 days of each other.

And it all brings me here:

My purpose in life is to teach the transformational power of enthusiasm.  My purpose is to show how transformational it is to be possessed by the essence of God.  I do this through teaching, through singing, through my work at Unity of Music City, through my work in the classroom, through my one-on-one encounters with students, through my work as a chaplain in the pastoral care ministry at Unity, and through every conversation or thought I have.

I do this by living a transformed life with enthusiasm.

And so it is.

Happy Now Year!

~ Deb ~ 1 Comment

I have a New Year’s tradition of great melancholia that would seem as etched in ritualistic stone as high mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.  At this time every year, I swim in thoughts of days gone by and wrap myself in the blankets of memories, both happy and sad.  I am “Auld Lang Syne” personified.   I contemplate where I have been and ponder where I will go.   I repose and reflect and resolve.  This melancholy is almost painful.  Whatever it is I am remembering, focusing on, mentally chewing up . . .  no longer is.  I attribute all kinds of importance and solemnity to something that doesn’t even exist anymore.  And I have done this every year about this time for as long as I can remember.

Except this year.  This year is different.  And I think I’ve figured out why.

About a week ago, Susie and I were having a conversation and this sentence came out of my mouth, “The purpose of life is learning how to be content.”

Does anybody else out there act as your own teacher?  Do you learn as the words come out of your mouth, as if you are audience to your own lecture?  Two truths came to me almost instantaneously with this sentence.  First, the purpose of life is different for each life.  Second, the purpose for MY life is to learn how to be content, and I’m starting to get it.

So much of my life before was waiting, anticipating, hoping, striving.  Over the last few years, my life has become . . . happy.  Wow.  I’m really happy.   I love my life.  I love my partner and the family we have together.  But it’s more than the “biggies.”  I think happiness comes in the appreciation of the minute details of everyday life.  I love my house, and my yard, and feeding the birds, and planting garlic, and growing rosemary, and baking bread, and walking my dog on a crisp December morning.  I love the view out the sliding glass door from the desk where I work all day.  I love watching the blue spruce we planted a few years ago grow in the front yard.  I love taking a break from work to take the food scraps out to the compost pile.

I had a great year in 2008, and I look forward to 2009.  (And, yes, I do have a resolution and, yes, it involves a treadmill and scales.)   But, in this moment, about 24 hours before the ball begins dropping in Times Square, I am content and happy and . . . in this moment.