Check Please…

The Ancient Egyptians believed at the time of death a person’s heart was the key to the Afterlife. It was one of the only organs never removed from the body during mummification. At the gates of the Afterlife  the jackal headed god, Anubis, oversaw the judgement of the person’s soul. Thoth, the scribe to the gods at the ready to record the outcome for eternity. The heart counterbalanced against a simple feather, symbolizing truth, order and justice, on a lager than life scale. Perfectly balanced the deceased was reborn into the Afterlife. Thoth recording the person had lived a life of  honesty, accountability and action for good.  Scales tipped below the feather meant not eternal damnation but cease of existence; an endless void. The heart of the ill willed devoured instantly by the tri-mutated beast, Ammit. The heart and the body never reunited to rest in peace; a terrifying fate for an Ancient Egyptian.

Even though this symbolic ritual is thousands of years old, how well we, as Modern-era examples, can relate.

Really it’s a simple thing to live a life balanced against the “feather”. However no longer as a people is that allegorical balance held so close to our thoughts. What would you have as the counterweight on the judgement scales? Are there items such as accountability, honesty, compassion, empathy humility, and knowledge? When you have wronged do you learn or forget?  Do you fear the consequences?

Do you lead a life with a good heart?

The heart. What is it?

A needed organ to keep us alive and whole.

A symbol of love.

An action of good will.

Lead a life through a good heart.

Take care of your body. This complex yet fragile vessel needs nourishment and exercise.

Take care of those you love. Be patient, understanding, protective and nurturing in your thoughts, words and actions.

Take care of the people you meet during your day. Make your actions more about them and less about you.

A good heart makes you live…

Hugs & wishes,

Brenda
~~The key to keeping your balance is knowing when you’ve lost it. ~~

Anonymous

Advertisements

Poetry to Express such a Beautiful Day….from my great grandmother

IN PRAISE OF WALKING 

Aeroplanes see country
Like a checkered spread,
Rainbow-patterned, distant,
Covering earth's bed. 

Motor cars look closer,
Road and town are heard,
Wooded hill and meadow
Scarcely say a word. 

But to know the country,
Walk a blossoming lane,
Listen to earth singing,
Touch spring's counterpane.

By Edith Lombard Squires

Picture perfect days are few up here in Upstate NY. Get outside and saturate your senses with the day's beauty!

Hug & wishes,
Brenda

~~Beauty is power; a smile is its sword. ~~
Charles Reade


We Cherish too, The Poppy Red

Historically long weekends allow us to pay tribute to monarchs, presidents, dignitaries, martyrs or peace makers. In the Modern age it’s become an excuse to vacation at the Summer house, BBQ on the back deck or shop the holiday sales at the local mall. We are as confused on the meaning of Memorial Day as the picture to the side. Are we paying remembrance to the “booty” of our fallen soldiers? Hey, I’m not saying I don’t live for long weekends in the Summer. Three chances for extra time with Pookey; carved out of somewhat opposing work schedules is a valuable commodity. Although our Summer national holidays mark the beginning, middle and end of a season, take some time to remember what those days mean to you, a friend in the service, our people. Not saying you have to agree with the current politics at large. But at some level being an American affects you…personally. This Memorial Day if you see an elderly gent or lady selling poppies after your donation ask them their story. My dad still talks about the first friend he lost in WWII; someone he went to college with at UBC. He gets a sad tone in his voice. I know his thoughts drift to what that man would have been if he hadn’t died. Put a personal story back into the meaning of this long weekend. Share it with someone else. Remember.

The red poppies meaning  – A brief bit of history. Memorial Day (Declaration Day) observation started shortly after the Civil War by General John Logan. He placed flowers on the graves of both Confederate and Union soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery.  New York state adopted the holiday in 1873 (shout out!)  and by 1890 the remaining Northern states followed suit. The Southern states didn’t adopt the observation til after WWI when the practice came to recognize soldiers killed in all wars. The South up to that point still had their own day honoring fallen Confederate soldiers (and many Southern states still have a separate observation day). In 1971 the last Monday in May became a Federally observed holiday called Memorial Day – a day honoring those that lost their lives fighting for the honor of America in any war. So back to why poppies on Memorial Day. Moina Michael back in 1915 gets all the credit.  Her idea stemming from a poem she was inspired to write.

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.

So convicted she started to wear a red  poppy to honor those fallen on Memorial Day. She liked the idea so much she sold red poppies to her community around the holiday. Her proceeds went to soldiers in need. Some years go by and an affluent French lady heard about the poppy tradition. She loved the gesture so much she took it back to France to help raise money for orphaned and widowed children. Creating a Franco-American connection. Poppies were now an international symbol of charity and service remembrance. In the early 1920’s, the VFW was asked to help make poppies for sale. They recruited their disabled veterans to assemble the simple artificial flowers.  Thus starting the “Buddy” poppy program nationally. Puts some meaning back into that little red cloth flower again.

Hugs & wishes,

Brenda

~~ Each man is a hero and an oracle to somebody~~

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Last Breath…

Death seems at such a juxtaposition to the  universal return of life during Springtime.  I have a hard time accepting it this time of year. The Earth is reawakening from its long Winter slumber. The Sun warms our spirits. All things breathing seem anxious to create new life.  We open our windows and let the cool breezes air out our living spaces. Pushing aside the staleness of Winter’s past festivities left in the corners of our minds with light and happiness. All things in Nature sing about creation abounding anew. Signs of our archetypal myths of death and resurrection surround us during the Spring.  Centuries of legends from every land – Egypt, Greece, England, China, all explaining nature’s triumphant return to life. Tales that symbolize man’s trust in the Divine and Its protective “maternal” nurturing to our survival. Our ancestors recognized Spring as the welcome return of life; a resurrection. It was time to plant the fields and to feast off the land. But not at the selfless cost to a deity – our unknown protector of our life force. The return of Spring came due to great sacrifice on the deity’s behalf for our benefits. There was a balance of life, death, resurrection. A flow that happened year after year. Mankind created rituals and priesthoods to honor said deity of the day. To enhance mankind’s Springtime payoff by showing our devotion and thanks.  To store up our reserves of life over the years and hoping maybe to cheat our cycle of “death”. But there is a higher plan that can’t be bought or praised to extend the good times. When you sit with someone dying you feel that. Life free flowing out of your loved one. No stopper to plug the hole and store the life force. Those gathered around scramble to make the most of the time together. Long bedside vigils met with phases of soul bearing grief and heartwarming memories. We become the archetypes of old. Our dying loved one traveling on a  journey to the other side; from the Springtime to the Winter of their years. Those left behind playing roles of guide, mourner and healer. Everyone finding a natural order to witnessing death; the moment life ceases with the last breath. Or does that last breath take us to the Spring of a new place? A rebirth and renewal. The greatest question still left unanswered by man. Man is left to experience the wonderment of the Universe like a child in the end. RIP til the triumphant dawn of your Spring, Dear One.

Forgiveness is our biggest gift towards inner peace. It lets us be free inside our own skin & frees our mind of negative ties. Take that extra weight off your back. Lighten your burden in this life. Let your resentment flow away from you like a white flower released into a flowing river. Watch it move away from you and out of your vision. (I’m not saying it doesn’t hit a few rapids along the way ;).  But let it leave your mind and heart. Forever.

Hugs & wishes,

Brenda

~~In Buddhism, rebirth is part of the continuous process of change. In fact, we are not only reborn at the time of death, we are born and reborn at every moment.~~

Fundamental principle of Buddhism

Birth…

"Motherhood" by Vu Cao Dam 1908-2000Welcome to the Goddess” Playshop!

Each day I plan to post a musing on how to indulge our inner Goddesses.  I thought it fitting to start my blog on the holiest of female worship days – Mother’s Day. Without mothers there is no creation of life. It’s a huge responsibility being a mother – a vessel of creation, an embodiment of nurturing and a role model of living a complete fulfilling life. All the while providing protection and a clear path of opportunities for our “children” to experience more out of this life. Risks, temperance and many sacrifices encircle being a mother. Motherhood is a task only fit for a Goddess. So today I salute the ladies of motherhood.
Tap into your wonderment of life – A memory of a witnessing life coming into this world. Pick a simple bouquet of Spring flowers from your garden. Place them in a favorite vase in a place you frequent often in your home. Add a photo of someone special (or more pics) next to it. Take a few moments today to give thanks for this life.

Hugs & wishes,

Brenda

We are all wanderers on this earth. Our hearts are full of wonder, and our souls are deep with dreams.
~~ Gypsy proverb~~