Hummingbird Painting #3, Rick Beerhorst, painter.
This post is about an effect of the startling experience I had when a hummingbird flew into my classroom and landed at my feet and deciding to write about how I greet what happens, and what I learn.
How? As an aspiration, I choose to ride life to the brim, alert and relaxed.
I want to cultivate an open heart and get to know more about my mind—what I think and feel— because it influences every moment of every day of my life. I want to keep notes about what I notice and learn about my behaviors and reactions to situations and others.
I call this living with hummingbird vision.
Since I need a journal to record my daily gems, this is what I came up with.
My husband made and gave this beautiful book to me when my son died (in 2006).
(I had a grief box that held special memories of my son along with this journal to write my feelings. Each day I'd open that box, cry, and write. Then I'd close the box and live my day. I was a Montessori preschool teacher at the time.)
I pulled this journal from 2006 off the shelf to photograph and show you. I saw this page: “Why should I smile if there is no joy in me? TO PRACTICE.” There were no more entries after that.
I think it’s time to continue noting the ways I'm willing to open my heart.
Hardship, challenge, and difficulty visit all of us. My current meditation is accepting that I live with incurable cancer. Oh, and that I'm moving from Denton, Texas to Bradenton, Florida in the coming year. I'm practicing placing Texas friends I adore into my heart as I giddy-up into the Florida sunrise.