Uphill idealist

The following reading was w ritten by Henry Scott Holland (27 January 1847 – 17 March 1918) was Regius Professor of Divinity at the University of Oxford... My friend Sarah shared this reading with me earlier today and I can't quite articulate why it cut me to the quick, but it did. Death is something that we often want to separate from daily life. We remove ourselves - or try to - from grief. But death and life are married. Death and life can't be separated. While I don't know the ways that death or loss have impacted you life,  I do know that death has impacted and continues to impact me. But death is a part of life that I can't live without - like the quote states... "death is nothing at all...All is well."

There is a longing to live life to the full, that tugs and pulls. It draws a breath deep and keeps me far from sleep. I don't want to miss a thing. From dreams not dreamed and hopes just starting to gleam this glass-always-half-full draws me to drink deep. So much to see, and do and be - the limit is beyond the time of each day. Through the dawn of bright to the fall of night - wholeness is fullness seeing every hue shades each step along the way. Copyright T.L. Eastman 2015

The family was all set to go for a swim. The bags filled with towels, sneakers and extra clothes for when they would be dry struggled to stay contained. The number of children in the gaggle was undecipherable as they all were in a state of constant movement. One kid was hanging on the pool door entrance, another was hiding under the check-in counter, and two or three more tots whirred like tiny planets in a wobbly rotation around their mother - who like the sun - was a the center of their aquatic adventure. The water was calling their name. They we so prepared that they'd worn their swimsuits in route to the pool. All they had to do to reach the oasis of the swimming pool was to drop their bags, toss off their t-shirts and flip flops and then... 1 2 3 CANNONBALL! This family reminds me of what enthusiasm looks like. Even though there are a million other things this family could have done this afternoon, they had decided and were committed to their goal. This mom wi...

In the waiting there are tears and confusion, but there are compassionately held tissue boxes, hot cups of coffee and long embraces. In the waiting there is worry over the unknown but then there is space to consider what else might be possible. In the waiting there are long nights of talking through brambles and burdens, but there are dawns of hope that take us by surprise and show up at the door. In the waiting there is waiting, and waiting and waiting, but there are caring prayers, calls, texts, and conversations unnumbered that full the seconds, minutes and days. In the waiting are moments we never want to live. But once we live them, we learn who we really are. In the waiting we are not alone. In the waiting we are loved. In the waiting we are called to live. In the waiting we know whatever happens, it was worth the wait. Art "Hearing" and poem by T.L. Eastman  Copyright 2015 

Yesterday I traveled about 2 hours southwest of my home to attend a class orientation for a new course in my seminary studies. The location I was headed was very close to a small amusement park that my family would visit each summer when I was a child: Conneaut Lake Park. While things never look the same as an adult as they did as a child, I was still anxious to stop by the park and see it - through adult eyes. The day before, I had another chance to unexpectedly visit my childhood, when I met my fellow classmates for the new class. I missed general introductions when the rest of the class had started before arriving, so I gave a short bio and introduction late. As I told the class who I was, where I worked and what I was hoping to learn a fellow student chimed in... Wait, you are from Warren County? Yes. Do you know where the Agway in Youngsville is? Yes - I grew up at the top of York Hill Road. York Hill? I live on York Hill!!! What? I'm Todd and I think I remem...

Earlier today I stumbled across a quote concerning the coming new year that filled me with hope instead of a desire to reach for a mountain of impossible resolutions - "Tomorrow is the first blank page in a 365 page book. Write a good one." Brad Paisley. We all have an ideal that we strive for - even this uphill idealist. But what if we looked at each day as writing ONE page instead trying to write ALL PAGES in one day? One day = one page.  Each day we have one page to celebrate, struggle, hope, strive, aspire, dream and wrestle with our ideals - and then in joy write them down. Write your own story, you are the only one with that unique perspective. Each day, each page - write a good one. Even in what seems impossible and unchangeable. In hope and joy this is the kind of story that I resolve to write and live in 2014. Happy New Year to all! What story do you want to write in the new year? One day = one page - with hope and joy. Shalom - Tara 

Authenticity, wholeness and having your gifts meet the deep needs of the world. This is undivided life. This is "Sabbath" that walks with a person every day of the week. Thanks, Parker Palmer .

Saturday shuffle. Child wrangling. Appointment keeping. Long nap cuddling. Blustery wind pressing. Accidental Halloween Parade mixing. Soft pretzel sharing. Youngest son's film screening gathering. Pizza noshing. Rice cereal and lavender baby bathing. Latte sipping. Laundry sloshing. Homework nodding Living room piling. This flick or treat is delighting. T. L. Eastman  October 2013

How to Feel the Sap Rising (a poem for summer) Walk as slowly as possible, all the while imagining yourself moving through pools of honey and dancing with  snails, turtles, and caterpillars. Turn your body in a clockwise direction to inspire your dreams to flow upward. Imagine the trees are your own wise ancestors offering their emerald leaves to you as a sacred text. Lay yourself down across earth  and stones.  Feel the vibration of  dirt and moss, sparking a tiny (or tremendous) revolution in your heart with their own great longing. Close your eyes and forget this border of skin.  Imagine the breeze blowing through your hair is the breath of the forest and your own breath joined, rising and falling in ancient rhythms. Open your eyes again and see it is true, that there is no "me" and "tree"  but only One great pulsing of life, one sap which nourishes and  enlivens all, one great nectar bestowing trust and wonder. Open your eyes an...

That is, if expresso and cannoli can get me there. :) Happy Fat Tuesday to you and yours! T

Big and little, little and big. All those details - no one can rig. All the letters, and emails, and pause are removed with importance, and meaning and cause. Wonder and worry and the many "What if's", settle like vinegar in an oily mix. Let richness settle and the vapid stuff rise, revealing the purpose, the promise, the prize. So much ahead, and it's only the start. Back to big and little, little and big - in the heat, on the street, all the people I meet, will hear the optimistic beat, tic, tic, beat, tic, tic, beat; of my heart. T.L. Eastman Sept. 2012 Image found at uncrate

Cozy, warm and colorful. Will you help to hold good ideas and thoughts close to my brain? Will your bright colors keep an optimistic perspective close? Will warm ears help me to listen more and speak less? Soft, thick and comforting. Can your woven strands help me keep it together? Can the fleece lining remind me to be more gentle? Can your depth remind me not to fall into shallow stuff? New, thrifty and courageous. Please help me be aware of the potential opportunities out there. Please keep me aware that money isn't the answer to everything. Please me to stand tall and proud on behalf of what really matters. New, striped, green, hat - it's amazing what you can find on a clearance rack if you look for it. T.L. Eastman "March 2012"

Cartoon from blog " Of course i could be all wrong" e·piph·a·ny   [ih-pif-uh-nee] noun, plural -nies. 1. (Initial capital letter ) a Christian festival, observed on January 6, commemorating the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi; Twelfth-day. Epiphany is on it way. In addition to being the cap on the Advent season and 12 days of Christmas, it also happens to be my birthday. Normally, I love the fact that my birthday is connected to this time of celebration - but this year I already find myself a little melancholy over the fact that the big wrap up is on it's way. It's been a great Advent and Christmas season so far. Both my husband and I work in youth ministry and we've spent many days during Advent working with youth on service projects in order to help them to give back. We've make Christmas cards, delivered them to a nursing home, visited a youth home, helped sort and organize gifts for kids and families and as Christmas ...

Escher's "hands" image found at World of Escher . Between what was and whats to come. Between beginnings and conclusion of some. Between the place of being understood and to others: being up to no-good. This state of being not quite one or the other sometimes can be such a bother. Does one explain this in-between role? Being part of one and part of another - can be an impossible goal. To your own and other's brain, being in-between roles is not boring, predictable or mundane. To some its odd and to others it's a grace - to work and move in two roles in this space.

The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. – Nelson Mandela Image from blog parnormalknowledge.com There are bound to be hills on the journey. Some paths are straight, clearly marked, and due to a happy accident, you happen to be wearing appropriate shoes for the terrain. Other trails are curvy, steep, confusing, and the fact you wore heels on a hike is a un-happy accident waiting to happen. The road is unpredictable and just when you think you might have things under control - you fall. As soon as you hit the ground, you can't help but think - " Why did I go this way?" - "How foolish for me to try this route." Without walking the path, there's no way we'd ever learn about scuffed knees, bruised hearts or scenic overlooks. Pain has a way of getting a message across that other sensations don't. It's like reaching across a hot stove, or touching a pan that blisters fingers to the touch - you aren't...

A few years ago I saw the band Casados play at Labyrinth Press Co. in Jamestown, NY. Labyrinth is a local gem that hosts wonderful musicians from all over the world (really!) and tasty vegetarian food and coffee and tea delicacies. In the midst of the shifting passage of time, I'd almost forgot about this beautiful song I heard played there called, "Letting go." There is something so bittersweet about letting go. Letting go can be a difficult task, but one that is required in order really hold on to the things that matter. I've been holding on to something for a while now, and I think I've come to a place that if I ever hope in the hope to see it come to pass - that I need to release it. A wise teacher once told me, "You can push the river." It's when I think I'm in charge, that I find I'm really not. I need some time to wade in the waters of the river, instead of trying to direct it my way, in my time. Why did it take me this long to see I...

Image from PAUK: Temple of Possibilities Changes Psalm 119:102-105 102 I have not departed from your laws, for you yourself have taught me. 103 How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! 104 I gain understanding from your precepts; therefore I hate every wrong path. 105 Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path. There is a poem by Juan Ramon Jimenez called "Life" that reflects the shift in seasons and calls out to all the doors of possibility that open to each one of us in the midst of these changes. What I used to regard as a glory shut in my face, was a door, opening towards this clarity: Country without a name: Nothing can destroy it, this road of doors, opening, one after another, always toward reality; Life without calculation! It is our desire to work out, plan and work out all the details of life. We don't like surprises (unless they are presents) and change (unless they ar...

Image from blog Inadvertent Farmer. When I was little I used to imaging the wind lifting me up just that little bit to make me run just a little faster. Sometimes if the wind would be blowing hard and I was running down a hill, so fast that my legs would fall into place - one after the other - that I thought that was what it was like to fly. I so wanted to fly as a child. Some days as an adult, I think I still want to fly - but my motivation is more on what or how much I can accomplish... not the free-flowing-abandon-filled-sprint-down-a-grass-covered-hill-and-not-caring-if-I-fall-in-the-mud-and-laugh-my-head-off. I think that life may be filled with more wisdom if grow-ups took the time for flying lessons. I think our days would be much more lively and joyful too. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- See you later gators, I'm off in search of a steep hill, and strong gust of wind and that little girl with pigtails I used to know so ...

This Saturday was a busy, busy day. Each spring we have an annual clean up downtown event and for the last two years I've encouraged the youth from our church and community to come and help. It was rainy and early but in all 14 youth and adults showed up this Saturday to clean up all trash from our Church yard and surrounding neighborhood. Thank you all for coming and helping! Saturday evening was my daughter Heather and her beau Will's Prom. Will is graduating this year, so Heather was invited to attend with him. It's amazing to me that my own daughter will be graduating from High School on only 374 days or so. Heather and Will had photographer Kenzie Mencer of Kaboom Photography come and do a photo shoot just before they went out to dinner and to the dance. I'm in love with these photos, even though they make more real how fast childhood passes. It's bittersweet, but it's so good to see pictures of how far she's come. I'm so proud that Heather is m...

Click into place like my favorite set of Lego's. Line up in a way so things make sense. But please don't let me in on too much at once. I couldn't bear not being surprised - when the "CLICK" happens and things suddenly, unexpectedly fall into place. Then I will rejoice with the "CLICKS". T.L.Eastman May 2010