Today’s reading is talking about Celestine Moments. “Carl Jung called it “Synchronicity”: two seemingly unrelated events that cannot be explained by cause and effect but are uniquely linked by personal meaning.” ~Sarah Ban Breathnach-Simple Abundance
I walked into another Starbucks this week and this was maybe the second time I’ve stopped by this location. It’s at the end of a shopping center with no drive thru, so you have to walk in. It was quiet with one girl working behind the counter. I strolled around taking in my surroundings before placing an order and that’s when I saw it on display. The Wall of Kindness.
There’s a pad of sticky notes and ink pens provided to leave a note of encouragement. You can also take a note from the board if needed, but what really got me were the notes that said things like, “I come here everyday and this gets me through”, or “This makes my day!” Of course I left a note, but it’s been rolling around my mind ever since.
What if I created something similar in my community? There has to be a bulletin board somewhere not being utilized…maybe at the library, Community Center, Fire Department, or even outside the Police Station? The list of possibilities are endless, but I feel the need to put action behind the ideas. What if each of us did something like this in our own community?
If we’re going to a build wall…let it be a wall of kindness.
I questioned my sanity for a moment, but what my heart prompted me to do, worked out beautifully. Our dogs don’t do well with thunderstorms, but one of them is even scared of rain. I found her curled up in my room and it was simply raining, but to her, it probably sounded like much more.
My room is the only room in the house that doesn’t smell like a Voluspa candle. It’s my sacred space and Winnie (doggo) knows it’s sacred. When she gets spooked, she hides in the bathroom, but when she needs comfort, I’ll find her in my room. She knows I’ll disassemble my meditation area just for her to lay on the rug, but today she was laying on the hardwood floor near the window. I picked up the box of incense cones and chose the one that carries a ‘mindfulness’ scent.
Once I lit the incense and placed it in it’s holder, it dawned on me I’d just lit incense for a dog. 😂
My room is the only room that smells like incense since my daughter moved out. We had this little bedtime ritual where my daughter would light a stick of incense before going to bed. I would already be in my bed, but the smell of the incense would drift down to my room and I’d fall asleep peacefully. That feeling of sacredness works for dogs too. Walking by my room, Winnie was stretched out and looked relaxed even though large drops of rain pelleted the tin roof.
It seems being cradled in a sacred space isn’t only for humans.
I went for my morning walk. If I can get out the door by 7:00 am, the air is cool, crisp and a delight to the senses. That didn’t happen this morning, it was more like 8:30 am, but I went anyway.
Stepping into my front yard, I hear a car coming down the road, but didn’t think much of it until I heard the horn. It was my neighbor from the end of the street and he always toots his horn when driving by. When I was a kid and on up into my 20’s, that was considered a greeting when someone tooted their car horn. It was to get your attention so you’d look their way to see them smiling and waving at you.
Maybe you didn’t realize the car horn was once used as a kind gesture. Similar to making your bed first thing in the morning, and putting the grocery cart into the cart return. These tasks aren’t new, it’s how we were raised.
My truck is over 10 years old and I cannot recall the last time I tooted my horn, if ever. To do this, you press on the horn with two, quick presses so it goes toot, toot. It’s something that will need practice, so the next time I leave home, I’ll have to drive by my neighbors house to practice the toot.
She was pulling into a parking lot with a car in front of us. There was plenty of parking, but the car in front decided to park at the same time as my daughter. They pulled into a space side by side. The stranger’s passenger door flung open before either car was fully parked.
It was a child in a hurry to exit.
Her car door hit my daughter’s Jeep.
My daughter was angry, but not because the Jeep was hit. It was because the little girl was in a hurry. This could have been more than a scratch.
The little girls face showed remorse and terror as soon as it happened, but the mother was a different story all together. She was prepared with anger, but I diffused with kindness.
“I didn’t even see you”, she said.
Were we hidden from view?
She had a car full of girls. Life is distracting.
It was an accident, but “I’m sorry”, was left unsaid.