What does it mean to you to live fully? Freely? Abundantly?
If you were to cast a vision for that, or maybe simply get more in alignment with it, what would that look like? Do you have a guiding principal for this? Or a highest value? Or a significant practice? When do you feel most alive, and how? I’d love to hear from you today. Feel free to leave a comment.
–Renee Roederer
You carry
All the ingredients
To turn your life into a nightmare-
Don’t mix them!
You have all the genius
To build a swing in your backyard
For God.
That sounds
Like a hell of a lot more fun.
Let’s start laughing, drawing blueprints,
Gathering our talented friends.
I will help you
With my divine lyre and drum.
Hafiz
Will sing a thousand words
You can take into your hands,
Like golden saws,
Sliver hammers,
Polished teakwood,
Strong silk rope.
You carry all the ingredients
To turn your existence into joy,
Mix them, mix
Them!
– Hafiz
I have a long standing tradition of having a baby cottontail rabbit born in my yard each summer. Last night, this year’s baby made herself visible for the first time. She’s the 8th generation bunny.
Factually, I know they’re not all female, and they’re probably not a straight linage, but I think some of them might be, because each year, an adult bunny returns and has her baby. I always name the baby, and her name includes part of the name from last year’s bunny.
So we’ve had…
Rosa
Rosalita
Litalou
Louisa
Isabella
Bellatrix
Trixie
and now… Edith!
Welcome home, baby Edith. Enjoy munching on the grass in the yard. I’m sorry that there’s so much cottonwood blowing around out there. You’re a big a delight.
–Renee Roederer
In my role with the Epilepsy Foundation of Michigan, I help facilitate five support groups. Last year, in one of them, a group member chose a song for every other group member. She selected a song with meaning that seems to convey who each person is and/or what they can count on from each other. It was so touching..
“This is your song,” she would say.
And for many months, people have circled back and made reference to their songs.
This morning, I turned my Spotify on shuffle, and there was mine.
“This is your song,” I heard her say. I smiled big.
–Renee Roederer
I was standing near the bus stop in the morning shade under a tree. I saw someone approaching with a white box. “She has donuts,” I thought. “A donut sounds so good.”
She sat on the bench, as I continued to stand under the tree. She opened the box, and curious, I looked over to see if they were, indeed, donuts — though I was careful not to stare. I was behind her, so she never saw me looking anyway.
But that’s when she turned to me and asked, “Would you like a donut?” With no way to know my curiosity, she was simply generous and neighborly. I smiled big.
“That’s so nice! How about half of one?”
“Which one would you like?”
“Ooh, how about this one!”
I savored it.
I introduced myself, and she told me her name too. She also shared that she works for the city. She told me a bit about her family as well. I know that none of our conversation solved gun violence, or climate disaster, or what’s happening in Ukraine. This person in city government didn’t suddenly solve what happens so regularly in Washington.
But this neighborliness matters too. It brightened my day. It led to connection. It bolstered us socially and physically — friendship and sugar in the hot sun.
Yes, this neighborliness matters too.
–Renee Roederer
— If you were to shake off the stressors for a bit and just be playful, what would you do?
— How can you make some space for that today?
–Renee Roederer
— As you think over the last month or so, what moment, thought, feeling, activity, memory, or possibility gave you the greatest sense of wonder?
— How can you bring that to mind and heart again, feeling gratitude for it once more?
–Renee Roederer
— Who and what makes you feel at home?
— How can you rest in the presence of these?
If some people or some key comforts are not able to be accessed physically or immediately, it can still be helpful to imagine them. We can bring home to us.
–Renee Roederer
— Who loves you?
One of my friends has a nightly ritual with both of her daughters. They are six and four, both completely precious. Every night, after reading to them, my friend says these final words before they go to sleep:
“Who loves you?”
Then both girls go through this litany of naming who loves them — parents, grandparents, teachers, and friends. Sometimes the stuffed animals get named too.
I wonder who might be in your list.
— How can you build a rhythm to remind yourself intentionally of this love?
–Renee Roederer
— As you think over the last month or so, what moment, thought, feeling, activity, memory, or possibility gave you the most joy?
— How can you prioritize more of that?
–Renee Roederer
Smuggling Grace 