"What if St. Francis, in this one sentence, is giving us all permission to do what we love and to be what we love? To celebrate what nourishes and connects us to the breathing earth and to each other?" Such a lovely, lovely thought. Thank you, Julie.
Or, and granted this reframe doesn't always work, if I loved what I do? (a variation on that song lyric, "if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with") 🤍
Another wonderful essay! Your thoughts on love echo one of my favorite movie quotes. It's from Marvin's Room, when Bessie, who has been a longtime family caregiver, tells her sister Lee how lucky she has been:
Bessie : Oh, Lee, I've been so lucky. I've been so lucky to have Dad and Ruth. I've had such love in my life. You know, I look back, and I've had such... such love.
Lee : They love you very much.
Bessie : No, that's not what I mean. No, no... I mean that I love them. I've been so lucky to have been able to love someone so much.
Oh, that's beautiful. My breath caught reading it. I don't think I've seen that one -- time to remedy that. Thanks for reading, and for adding your voice. 🤍
"To give free rein to imagination, to feel the reciprocity of being noticed back, of being sensed by oak or osprey or stream. That feeling of being in love with all of creation is our birthright. Honestly, we can’t help it."
Of all the wonderful bits here, Julie, this was my favorite. It's the being noticed back part especially. It's a concept that, on the surface, is simple but is deeply profound. During periods I've spent in "the wild" for long spells, that sense of reciprocity has been, I think, the greatest gift I've given myself by enabling those long spells.
Thank you for this. Something I might write about is, I believe, beginning to germinate from this passage.
Wow, I’m thrilled to see this, Holly. I look forward to reading what comes of that germinating seed. The first time I heard that about being noticed back, it seemed an odd idea. But after trying it, I was amazed. I’m still amazed every time. I never feel unworthy or judged. Always welcomed.
Was just having a conversation with someone earlier this week about the ways in which nature gives unconditional and reciprocal love, and how that can make being in love with nature feel safe, in ways that some people never experienced from other humans and how much that means.
I love this concept--the safety of being in love with nature, especially given that nature is wild and unpredictable. And I think that's the way love may best be. Not that one should love in unpredictable ways but that life is unpredictable and impossible to tame; and so love must be open to whatever comes, to the quiet moment in storms, to the constant shaping and reshaping of the elements. I digress. :)
That was my favourite line too Holly, that and "On good days, it feels like the more love I give, the more there is to give. Love is sourced from a bottomless well"
And when given freely, especially in the wild, there is infinite reciprocal love waiting...
I remember when I was about to give birth to my second child and I thought, could I love her like my son? But once she arrived, my love just got bigger and bigger. 'Berta
“ Psychology teaches that what we love outside of us mirrors hidden places deep within—luminous qualities we’re unaware of in ourselves. This projection looks like hero worship or putting someone on a pedestal, convinced you’ll never be as wonderful as they are, you don’t deserve them. Not a recipe for a healthy relationship.
When I’m aware that to show love is to love myself, the whole game changes.”
So important to say this, and to hear it, thank you!
Wow! That really touched my heart! I felt universal wisdom flowing into me through your words. Absolutely tremendous writing. Thank you so much. I must start out as a free subscriber but I can tell you that, at some point, I will be a paid subscriber. Thank you for your illumination!
Why? Maybe because this series is reminding me of Keats's "Ode on a Grecian Urn": That is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Maybe because this post articulates so perfectly how it felt for me to be at my dad's side as he was dying.
Maybe, maybe - oh, who cares.
A toad is singing vigorously outside my window this morning, and Julie, your St. Francis is singing right along. That is all I need to know. Lucky me. ❤️
All of this resonates with me. But this is also my experience holding my mother’s hand as she took her last breath as her spirit left her beauty just as dawn was breaking. ❤️
“Death’s presence colors all my days. I know that death is a condition of being here, that it’s nothing short of a miracle that I’m here at all. Being with my parents in their final days, holding my father’s hand as he left us, I was surprised at how intimate death was. It felt ordinary in the sense that everyone will experience it, but also incredibly special, an honor to witness. Death is more like birth than I realized. All irrelevance and distraction are pushed aside. Only love remains. Love and grief and a kind of joy.”
Yeah. All but one of her children were with her Saturday into Sunday, as her body started the process of shutting down. It had been raining hard and just before dawn on Sunday morning, the rain broke. As the sun started to break the horizon, she passed. It was, as you note, an honor to witness.
“David Abram teaches that eros—love—is an actual force, like gravity, that binds us to the earth. He advocates conscious surrender to it.@
Such perfect alignment with Renée Eli this week. And I appreciate how you expand this love into how our senses interact with the world, an ever-reaching and connecting from one sentient to another.
"Yes, yes, yes," I thought, again and again in this post. I, too, want to supercharge my love. To be aware when I'm blocking it in order to spot the hidden fears in my subconscious ready to be revealed and so let go.
"What if St. Francis, in this one sentence, is giving us all permission to do what we love and to be what we love? To celebrate what nourishes and connects us to the breathing earth and to each other?" Such a lovely, lovely thought. Thank you, Julie.
Thanks for letting me know what resonates, Laura. It’s a joy to write for engaged readers like you. 🤍
Yes, me too, me too. I loved this line is what I mean.
Yes, these sentences had me pause in my reading and contemplate how my life would change if I did what I loved. A lovely, lovely thought indeed.
Or, and granted this reframe doesn't always work, if I loved what I do? (a variation on that song lyric, "if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with") 🤍
Another wonderful essay! Your thoughts on love echo one of my favorite movie quotes. It's from Marvin's Room, when Bessie, who has been a longtime family caregiver, tells her sister Lee how lucky she has been:
Bessie : Oh, Lee, I've been so lucky. I've been so lucky to have Dad and Ruth. I've had such love in my life. You know, I look back, and I've had such... such love.
Lee : They love you very much.
Bessie : No, that's not what I mean. No, no... I mean that I love them. I've been so lucky to have been able to love someone so much.
Oh, that's beautiful. My breath caught reading it. I don't think I've seen that one -- time to remedy that. Thanks for reading, and for adding your voice. 🤍
Gorgeous. Thank you, Cathy.
"To give free rein to imagination, to feel the reciprocity of being noticed back, of being sensed by oak or osprey or stream. That feeling of being in love with all of creation is our birthright. Honestly, we can’t help it."
Of all the wonderful bits here, Julie, this was my favorite. It's the being noticed back part especially. It's a concept that, on the surface, is simple but is deeply profound. During periods I've spent in "the wild" for long spells, that sense of reciprocity has been, I think, the greatest gift I've given myself by enabling those long spells.
Thank you for this. Something I might write about is, I believe, beginning to germinate from this passage.
Wow, I’m thrilled to see this, Holly. I look forward to reading what comes of that germinating seed. The first time I heard that about being noticed back, it seemed an odd idea. But after trying it, I was amazed. I’m still amazed every time. I never feel unworthy or judged. Always welcomed.
Yes. Me too.
Was just having a conversation with someone earlier this week about the ways in which nature gives unconditional and reciprocal love, and how that can make being in love with nature feel safe, in ways that some people never experienced from other humans and how much that means.
I love how you loved this!
I love this concept--the safety of being in love with nature, especially given that nature is wild and unpredictable. And I think that's the way love may best be. Not that one should love in unpredictable ways but that life is unpredictable and impossible to tame; and so love must be open to whatever comes, to the quiet moment in storms, to the constant shaping and reshaping of the elements. I digress. :)
Beautiful digression
Truly! 🥰
That was my favourite line too Holly, that and "On good days, it feels like the more love I give, the more there is to give. Love is sourced from a bottomless well"
And when given freely, especially in the wild, there is infinite reciprocal love waiting...
I look forward to your thoughts on this too...
Yes yes, the bottomless well is such a beautiful concept for love--especially in this light of how giving it produces more of it.
I remember when I was about to give birth to my second child and I thought, could I love her like my son? But once she arrived, my love just got bigger and bigger. 'Berta
Love this! It’s the original renewable resource. 🥰
“ Psychology teaches that what we love outside of us mirrors hidden places deep within—luminous qualities we’re unaware of in ourselves. This projection looks like hero worship or putting someone on a pedestal, convinced you’ll never be as wonderful as they are, you don’t deserve them. Not a recipe for a healthy relationship.
When I’m aware that to show love is to love myself, the whole game changes.”
So important to say this, and to hear it, thank you!
Thanks for being here. 🕊️🤍
Wow! That really touched my heart! I felt universal wisdom flowing into me through your words. Absolutely tremendous writing. Thank you so much. I must start out as a free subscriber but I can tell you that, at some point, I will be a paid subscriber. Thank you for your illumination!
I appreciate your enthusiasm! Thanks for being here. 🕊️🤍
I love, love this series on St. Francis's poem.
Why? Maybe because this series is reminding me of Keats's "Ode on a Grecian Urn": That is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Maybe because this post articulates so perfectly how it felt for me to be at my dad's side as he was dying.
Maybe, maybe - oh, who cares.
A toad is singing vigorously outside my window this morning, and Julie, your St. Francis is singing right along. That is all I need to know. Lucky me. ❤️
Is that toad singing a love song? Is there any other kind? 🤍
Our toads only ever sing love songs Julie, the few moments before and after rain, when they are mating... 🎶
What a gorgeous observation! 💚
I'm so pleased with each new verse, Julie, and the meditations you've condensed to help us focus. Thank you.
Thanks for joining in, David. ☺️
Such a great message, Julie!
Thanks for being here. 🕊🤍
Really lovely watercolor.
Thanks!
The Rumi poem is a favorite. ❤️
Yes!
All of this resonates with me. But this is also my experience holding my mother’s hand as she took her last breath as her spirit left her beauty just as dawn was breaking. ❤️
“Death’s presence colors all my days. I know that death is a condition of being here, that it’s nothing short of a miracle that I’m here at all. Being with my parents in their final days, holding my father’s hand as he left us, I was surprised at how intimate death was. It felt ordinary in the sense that everyone will experience it, but also incredibly special, an honor to witness. Death is more like birth than I realized. All irrelevance and distraction are pushed aside. Only love remains. Love and grief and a kind of joy.”
Beautiful, Sally. I’m glad to hear it happens to other people too. 🤍🕊️
“just as dawn was breaking” really got me. 🥹
Yeah. All but one of her children were with her Saturday into Sunday, as her body started the process of shutting down. It had been raining hard and just before dawn on Sunday morning, the rain broke. As the sun started to break the horizon, she passed. It was, as you note, an honor to witness.
That’s so special and memorable. To have the family gathered around is ideal.
This has been/is one of my favourite reads for week Julie... every week you've given me a few beautiful calm moments of reflection - thank you x
How lovely! You are most welcome. Thanks for being here. 🕊🤍
“David Abram teaches that eros—love—is an actual force, like gravity, that binds us to the earth. He advocates conscious surrender to it.@
Such perfect alignment with Renée Eli this week. And I appreciate how you expand this love into how our senses interact with the world, an ever-reaching and connecting from one sentient to another.
Thanks for sharing that, Kimberly. I love hearing what resonates. 🕊️🤍
"Yes, yes, yes," I thought, again and again in this post. I, too, want to supercharge my love. To be aware when I'm blocking it in order to spot the hidden fears in my subconscious ready to be revealed and so let go.
Thanks for reading, Joan. 🕊️🤍