Hope Like Wildfire

   Hope has been sparking in my rib cage and in my bellybutton for months now, friends. I think you probably know that. And despite a few unfortunate days when I allowed Worry to enjoy some small, petty victories (remember my vision of the Worry Door? I didn't see that because I wasn't worrying.)... I have thankfully managed to protect that spark of hope and fan it into a flame. And that flame is taking off like wildfire all through me. It is heating me from the inside out, making external circumstances very nearly irrelevant to my joy. And this wildfire is lighting the way, too, helping me see through some inevitable darkness.

   Fire.

   It's spreading.

   Maybe this is why our regular bonfires have been so special to me. Handsome and I really enjoy opening the farm for friends and loved ones, to light fallen trees in the fire pit and gather around and talk and laugh and have a good time.

   We soak up the heat on the coldest days and evenings and sometimes when it's warm out, too.

   We loiter there at the rocky edge until the skin on our faces seems to shrink and our jeans are so hot we can barely sit down. We trade burdens and worries for ponytails filled with ashes and jackets that smell like wood smoke for the rest of the week. We stare into the red and yellow glow, side by side, rubbing our hands and snuggling and just enjoying every moment.

   We wait for the flames to jet ferociously out of the ends of hollow trunks, then we watch the tree bark turn scaly and black. We search for shapes in the changing fire the way children gaze at clouds on summery afternoons.

   Between jokes and ghost stories we sometimes fall into that  flame-licked trance that slows and strengthens your heart all at once. I love that hot, tympani beat. We move our chairs around the edge of the fire pit every few minutes, to avoid the smoke, and sometimes have to run away laughing because it's so thick. But the cold always scoffs at our isolation, and we happily scuttle back for more fiery abuse.

   There is something undeniably primal about circling around a fire with people you love. I'm always a little sad when we can't host a weekly bonfire for whatever reason, usually the Oklahoma wind, but the most important fire is still spreading in us. I feel it. I see evidence of it. And I am so thrilled to be learning how to protect it from whatever it is that wants us to live without the heat and the light.

   I believe you can celebrate answers even before they arrive, and that such a joyful anticipation feeds that fire. It quickens the answer, too, and makes it even more beautiful.

   Do you feel it too?

   Do you have a wildfire in your heart, threatening to overtake all of your fears and your pain? Let it. Surrender to it. Feed that fire and protect it.

   If you can, please join us for one of our Lazy W bonfires soon. If you can't, then light a fire where you are and think fondly of us. I wish you and yours all the warmth and comfort, all the laughter, and all the hope you need. It is right there available to you.

"One can enjoy a wood fire worthily
only when he warms his thoughts by it
as well as his hands and feet."
~Odell Shephard
xoxoxoxo

Diamonds, Dreams, and Worry Doors

   My morning coffee is often the perfect time to browse through inspirational quotes and essays, opening my mind and heart to those morsels of wisdom that just click into some struggle happening within me. Today offered such a moment of serendipity, and I'd like to share it with you. I hope you'll join the conversation.

"You rush from room to room 

hunting for the diamond necklace

already around your neck." ~Rumi

   It floors me. How common is this? With such enormous appetites for everything from food to material luxuries and even friendships or romance, how often are we chasing after more than we need, or how often do we fail to notice dreams that have already come true? I know I am guilty of this from time to time. And not just when we frequent the Friday Night country auction, though that is a great example. I mean, I don't care what Pinterest says... A person only needs so many rusted antique milk cans or empty wooden frames that want to be painted turquoise...

   We can accumulate more than we need in many areas of life, continuing to pursue duplicates or poor imitations of treasures already at our feet.

   Handsome and I watched a news segment this morning about a pink diamond ring being auctioned off for charity, at a ridiculous value. The female news anchors, doing their jobs, oohed and ahhed over the sparkly bauble then took turns trying it on. They each slipped it on their wedding ring fingers where beautiful diamond rings already sat. This really bothered me, that a woman would put another diamond ring where her wedding ring sits, just because the second ring is pretty. To each her own, but really. To me, that speaks volumes.

   Then about ten minutes later I read the above quote from Rumi, and it lept off the page. Err, phone screen.

   I am not looking for diamond rings, by the way. That was just an interesting coincidence. But this does remind me of a sparkly wrap bracelet I bought about a year and a half ago on a frivolous shopping trip with my friend Marci. It is missing about a third of its stones but is so pretty, and so odd, that I wear it all the time. It cost like nine bucks.

I think this is a necklace, but I usually wrap it a few times around my wrist.

   Anyway, to add yet another layer of coincidence, Marci happened to called me out of the blue yesterday with some of the most encouraging words I have heard in a long time.

   Read into this as much or as little as suits you, but for me I am taking all of this as a big, happy clue to examine my yearnings. Do you remember the Worry Door story, and how it is supposed to be closed tight, forever?  What phantoms do I still allow to creep up and and terrify me, and what dreams am I still chasing frantically, that perhaps have already come true?

Thrifty stuff update: That painting now sits on my writing desk upstairs in the Apartment;

that gray & white tiered stand has served about three hundred cookies by now;

and those paper white bulbs are finally planted and proudly displaying three inch green sprouts! 

   I have this slightly weird belief that some prayers can be answered in advance, at a far distance; they just take a little time to become visible. That is when faith bridges the distance, the waiting period.

   That is when I have to trust that the diamond necklace I am hunting in every room is already around my neck. Or my wrist. So I just close my eyes and imagine it. And give thanks for it. And stop hunting. And allow the Worry Door to remain closed.

   What phantoms chase you around, trying to terrify you and fling open your Worry Door? Let it stay closed, man. What dream are you pursuing, hunting like a diamond necklace in every room? Perhaps it is already around your neck.Or your wrist. I'm not suggesting that worry has no place in life, or that we should stop dreaming big dreams. Just that sometimes it's good to stop and notice how abundantly blessed we already are, and how many treasures already belong to us.

Be Happy.
And if You Have a Friend Like Marci, 
Give Her a Hug.
xoxoxo

Closing the Door to Worry

   Sometimes yesterday, though I cannot tell you what time, something really special happened to me. 

At the risk of sounding too mystical or weird, I'd say it was an outright personal vision. 

   Without warning, my heart felt years of stagnant, accumulated worry just melt down 

into a deep, still puddle and retreat behind a door, like a weak and frightened oil spill. 

It just poured out of my spirit somehow then silently disappeared. All of it. 

Then with my mind, no... even with my actual eyeballs, I saw that door closing.

   Does this freak you out at all? I hope not. It was a wholly positive experience. 

Please listen to just a little more...

   I wasn't sure for a few minutes what was happening, but as it sank in I felt better and better. Handsome is home from the office this week. In fact, yesterday was his thirty-seventh birthday! We went about our relaxing and I never mentioned it to him until tonight.

   But the relief gradually transformed into joy. Then this morning I woke up with an even more concentrated sense of freedom, and I am so excited to share it with you guys now!

I found this image and traced it back to a site called Nooks and Crannies, 

but the original link no longer exists.

So I have no idea where this breathtaking door

can actually be found, but isn't it great?

   Again, what I saw most vividly was a door. A tall, heavy, beautiful, carved and gilded wooden door, a door that once and for all and right before my eyes closed shut against a cavernous room filled with all of my worries. More worries even than what could possibly have melted out of me a moment ago. That room was deep and dark and lonely, hopeless, unproductive. And the door closed of its own accord. I heard the complicated latch click; I heard the wood groan; and I saw a little puff of dust escape through the paper thin space at the floor.

   You guys, it was a brief event, but so incredible.

   The longer I sit with this feeling, this new lightness of spirit, the more beautiful that door seems to me. It has been changing shapes and colors all day as I try to recall the original image.

The source of this pretty photo is first Santa Barbara Chic then Caroline Arber.

   One minute, it is squared and unfinished, rough wood strapped with ancient iron fixtures. Another minute my mind has it appearing as stucco and draped with flowering bougainvillea vines, flanked by overflowing pots of fragrant herbs. Surely by tomorrow I will see this important door a half dozen more ways.

   This door that has sealed off worry is always thick and substantial. It is always strong and quiet, resolute in its duty to save me from myself. It sort of smiles at me (if doors can smile) and it reminds me in its still strength that reentering the Worry Room would be a deliberate choice on my part. It would require a decision and some energy spent to go keep company with those old worries again.

   So throughout today I have smiled back at the tall, mysterious, miraculous door; then I shift my focus.

   With the Worry Room full but locked behind me, I can see the rest of my world better. Unhindered and less fearful. I see the wild and lively gardens of life all around me... my marriage, my children, our parents, friends, and family, work, dreams, so many goals and hopes that have been on the back burner all this time because of worry. I can now reapply my time and energy where it will be much more profitable.

   Something besides me closed that door. Something else caused all of this to happen, and now everything is possible. I am suddenly and very happily released from that wasteful room.

   Stephanie, stop worrying. You have always loved beautiful doors, right? 

Every time I see one I think of you, and this one was no exception. 

I love you, and I hope you can close the door to your worries soon. 

   That's about all I have to tell you about what happened yesterday. The precipitating effects promise to be numerous, though. I can hardly think of a part of life that won't benefit from this new freedom and strength. 

Best wishes everyone. Worry is a waste. 

xoxoxoxo