Archives for: February 2008

YOU

02/24/08 | by Shareen [mail] | Categories: downtown girls

Listen with a quiet mind, and without defense
to the voices you hear in and around your life.
Are they for you or against you.
There is no middle ground.
Sometimes the people and things closest to us
are those causing us the most harm.
Your life- your heart, mind and soul are your home.
Look around the house.
Open all the cabinets.
Don’t enter into argument with toxins.
Just throw them out.
My mom once said to me about a guy I was
suffering to love, “its not what he says, its
how he makes you feel.”
People do not see, nor really hear each other.
We feel each other. Everything is an energy exchange.
Do those around you make you feel good, supported,
understood, encouraged and just plain happy?
If so, they get to be your guests, if not, show them
the door and be sure to get your keys back.
Once the house is empty, trust me, you will begin
to re-decorate.

Us

02/21/08 | by Shareen [mail] | Categories: downtown girls

A homeless man made a home outside of my gate.
I have never seen him in or around his home, but I see him often on the street a block from my building.
He pushes a cart that is well rigged. It is decorated and seems also to be an efficient storage unit of sorts.
I see him sitting by his cart, his legs crossed, reading the paper.

A week ago, I saw my neighbor pushing his cart, and along side it, attached to a long string was a puppy. I was immediately concerned. I stopped my car and stared at this little fluffy thing- black and brown and baby round, with short little chubby legs.
I looked at the man, I looked at the little one- so innocent, and vulnerable.
It was hard to drive away. My thoughts went to them.

Is the puppy ok with this man?, Does this man love him? Is he well treated? I felt sad thinking that this little dog didn’t have the same luxuries my cats do- a warm home, a soft place to sleep, and I worried that perhaps he might be sick, abused, neglected or hungry.

When I got home I told JD and found myself weeping for this little innocent creature who, out of love, and due to the loyalty of his breed, would follow this homeless man anywhere, for any scrap. I lay awake that night hoping that the pup was well fed and I had terrible visions of him being abused. I cried in the night and JD comforted me saying, “I am sure he loves the dog. I am sure that dog is his only and best friend.”

The next day I looked for them.
They were no where to be seen. Again, I went inwards with worry.

Yesterday I left the store to go and get lunch.
There was the puppy sitting in the sun against a fence and beside his owner.
I rolled down my window.
I greeted the man and asked if he needed food for his dog.
I discovered then that he spoke only Spanish and for the rest of our conversation we spoke only in Spanish.
He did want food. Puppy food, he indicated pointing to a near empty bag of the same.
I then braved to ask him,"Do you want to keep your dog, or would you like me to help you find a home, a family, for your dog?”
He was now standing very near my window. His head made almost an imperceptible tilt and his eyes took on a hit of pain and he said with pride - “Esta pero es mi hijo.( This dog is my son.)”
And I smiled with relief and said, “Es su bebe? (He is your baby?)”
“Si, Senora, mi bebe.”
I nodded and we held a moment together.
I then asked him if I could get him anything for lunch from the store.
He told me all he wanted were plastic bottles and cans so he could do his job of recycling.
When I returned the gentleman was brushing his dog, now sitting on his lap and belly up.
I gave him the puppy food and told him that next week I will bring him medicine for fleas. I want him to have some Advantage to keep the fleas off the puppy. He lit up at that offer and thanked me.
I then went to the store and got all of our plastic water bottles and took them to him. I walked the length of the block toward him in haste.
As I approached the corner I saw that he and the little guy were crossing the street toward me. We met in the middle, both of us filled with expectation, and I handed him the bag of plastic.
He thanked me.
I thanked him.
I rounded the corner, and practically ran back to the store, a surge of excitement running through me.
I felt elated the rest of the afternoon. I shared the exchange with everyone I saw.
“Es mi Hijo", I said to everyone. He said, ” He is my son.”

Love has an energy. It is palpable. We experience the half of it in the giving and the other in the receiving.
When both the giving and the recieving occur with equal intent and freedom, its like a little explosion in the heart and it is rare. I believe we live to feel this very thing.



Apology

02/12/08 | by Shareen [mail] | Categories: downtown girls

We go hat in hand.
Head bowed and full of the awareness of our flaws.
We go with an intention to repair.
What we offer is the truth of our humanity and the promise to work harder in an attempt to approach the divine.
Their forgiveness is as important as our apology.
Both require large amounts of love and acceptance.
To forgive is to recognize one’s own failings in the form of another’s actions.
Forgivness is born of compassion.
Compassion includes the recognition that we are all alike.
We are all capable of what any one of us may do.
When we forgive another, we forgive ourselves in the process.
We say, “It’s ok, I fail too. I too am human and flawed and weak. It’s ok. I still love you, and I still love me.
We are doing our best.”
Do not meet an apology with a reprimand.
One who approaches apologetically is coming with humility.
This is enough.
Embrace and protect the humble with the cloak of your understanding and self acceptance.

Today

02/08/08 | by Shareen [mail] | Categories: downtown girls

I knew I had hurt her.
I knew, driving away, that my actions had been harsh and had come from my impatience.

I pushed the thoughts away and carried on.
Later, after a long appointment and time in the car,
I realized that I was wrong.
My feelings were justified, but my way of expressing them was wrong.
This is always the case.
It is not what we say, but how we say it.

I drove home over the hill.

Stopped at a light and looking straight across the valley,

I found that still place of truth within and called her.

I spoke first and I knew she was surprised.
I expressed regret for my actions.
I gave her room to share her feelings and she was honest and her honesty was helpful and generous.
Finally, in my summation of the events of the day, I said the words, the hard ones. I’m sorry.
We came to a place of loving understanding, and I hung up the phone.
I sat in the quiet of my car- the city stretched out before me.
All those lights. Lives.
And I began to cry.
I am trying so hard to get it right.

February 2008
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