Hope Is Butter Cream Sun, 2nd June, 2013
After the frightening storms that rocked the St. Louis region on Friday night, I awoke the next morning to find that this beautiful gardenia blossom had miraculously bloomed despite the weather. Not only did I find it beautiful, but I found it a beautiful symbol of hope. This exotic blossom, with its exquisite fragrance, reminds us of the beauty and creative energy of the universe that surrounds us everyday—and the joy that awaits us when we simply take a moment to notice it.
Throughout this past week and particularly yesterday, feelings of hope are growing within me as I feel my life moving and changing. And soon I realized that our current project of repainting the house is, itself, a sign of hope. When Betsy and I picked out the paint color last night, the vision began to take shape in our minds. And our vision is butter cream.
Having hired a crew to help us prepare the house for her new dress of butter cream, I had to clear the way for them by reclaiming the exterior walls from the Boston ivy that had taken over the southeast corner of the house. The leafy vines had weaved their way over—even behind—the wood siding, choking the gutters and calling the house to return to a state of nature. Though that is a romantic vision, I will have yield to more practical realities.
And as I worked on clearing the front of the house I was visited by the small, furry black friend pictured here. Like the gardenia, this was another beautiful sign of hope. According to Native American spiritualist Ted Andrews, "The spider is the master weaver. To the Native Americans Grandmother Spider kept and taught the mysteries of the past and how they were affecting the future. Spider reminds us to awaken our own sensibilities to be more creative in life."
And that's exactly where I find myself this morning, in this happy confluence of hope and creativity. When Betsy shared with me one of her Taoist readings about hope, I was delighted to see how it pulled all these strands together for me. The meditation begins with the Chinese character shown here, which is Wang, the word for hope. Taoist philosopher Deng Ming-Dao explains that the upper right quadrant represents an eye, while the lower part portrays a person standing on the earth. He doesn't explain the upper left, which is apparently the object of the person's vision. Perhaps that will be different for each of us.
Whatever of the object of our hopes, his reflection teaches us of the value of a goal to keep us going. Hope, he explains, is not about an intellectual philosophy, but rather about the need to "get up each day, to work for what we believe in, to put our will toward accomplishments important to us…" and that none of this can happen without hope.
I leave you with Deng's conclusion:
Have something to hope for.
Make yourself into a person who can attain that hope.
And when you have that hope, share it with those you meet.
We need more hope in the world.
After the frightening storms that rocked the St. Louis region on Friday night, I awoke the next morning to find that this beautiful gardenia blossom had miraculously bloomed despite the weather. Not only did I find it beautiful, but I found it a beautiful symbol of hope. This exotic blossom, with its exquisite fragrance, reminds us of the beauty and creative energy of the universe that surrounds us everyday—and the joy that awaits us when we simply take a moment to notice it.
Throughout this past week and particularly yesterday, feelings of hope are growing within me as I feel my life moving and changing. And soon I realized that our current project of repainting the house is, itself, a sign of hope. When Betsy and I picked out the paint color last night, the vision began to take shape in our minds. And our vision is butter cream.
Having hired a crew to help us prepare the house for her new dress of butter cream, I had to clear the way for them by reclaiming the exterior walls from the Boston ivy that had taken over the southeast corner of the house. The leafy vines had weaved their way over—even behind—the wood siding, choking the gutters and calling the house to return to a state of nature. Though that is a romantic vision, I will have yield to more practical realities.
And as I worked on clearing the front of the house I was visited by the small, furry black friend pictured here. Like the gardenia, this was another beautiful sign of hope. According to Native American spiritualist Ted Andrews, "The spider is the master weaver. To the Native Americans Grandmother Spider kept and taught the mysteries of the past and how they were affecting the future. Spider reminds us to awaken our own sensibilities to be more creative in life."
And that's exactly where I find myself this morning, in this happy confluence of hope and creativity. When Betsy shared with me one of her Taoist readings about hope, I was delighted to see how it pulled all these strands together for me. The meditation begins with the Chinese character shown here, which is Wang, the word for hope. Taoist philosopher Deng Ming-Dao explains that the upper right quadrant represents an eye, while the lower part portrays a person standing on the earth. He doesn't explain the upper left, which is apparently the object of the person's vision. Perhaps that will be different for each of us.
Whatever of the object of our hopes, his reflection teaches us of the value of a goal to keep us going. Hope, he explains, is not about an intellectual philosophy, but rather about the need to "get up each day, to work for what we believe in, to put our will toward accomplishments important to us…" and that none of this can happen without hope.
I leave you with Deng's conclusion:
Have something to hope for.
Make yourself into a person who can attain that hope.
And when you have that hope, share it with those you meet.
We need more hope in the world.
