Butterfly Visions, Dragonfly Dreams

All Things Beautiful: The Daily Mandala: December 26, 2004

2012-02-14T21:02:00.000-08:00

Blue skies, blue waters,
blue me, true me.
I see the design...
the beauty...when I free
the artist within me.
~ ATB ~

All Things Beautiful: The Daily Mandala: December 26, 2004

ZuZu & me: Celebrating an epiphany, angels & acorns

2012-02-14T20:42:00.000-08:00

Added by Susan Parcheta on January 13, 2012.
Saved under Editor Picks, Susan G. Parcheta, Top Feature

She scampered jauntily into my life one beautiful, warm day in September.

I couldn’t know at that moment, but I was headed for one wild roller coaster ride. An adventure of the heart that I’d be looking back on nearly four months later, as one of those life-transforming, “what happened to me?” experiences.

I’m writing this on Jan. 6, the day of the Feast of Epiphany. It’s the day my dad was buried – the 12th day of Christmas. The day I contemplate the cycle of life…birth, death, beginnings and endings. And I try to understand where I fit in it all.

Especially this past autumn, when my heart got run over by a little yellow fur ball. She spotted me from across the road, as I walked to my mailbox. I heard the definite meow of a kitten. Uh, oh, I thought, “We don’t need another cat.” I figured it must belong to someone, but when she saw me, I could tell that she was on a mission.

The feeling was that I was the subject of this mission; and she was determined to be here. Something like Clarence, the angel in the movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life” – on a mission to help George Bailey. I named her ZuZu after George Bailey’s little girl.

“ZuZu, my little gingersnap,” George would say, endearingly. I loved that movie; I loved ZuZu. I loved my kitten. She was a wonderful gingersnap color, with a face just as sweet.

When she determined, too, that we’d probably keep her, I took her for the works — check-up, shots, and all. She had some kind of inherent virus, they said, that would probably come back until her immune system got built up.

We kept her in the garage, away from the other cats, for three weeks. Meanwhile, she settled in, loving her new quarters, and never wandering from it. She’d hop into the cozy cardboard box I’d fixed up – with a fuzzy car wash mitt, her favorite (to keep warm) large wool sock, and pillow-soft, multi-colored stuffed ball with jingle bell inside.

The other cats mostly ignored her, as though they knew she was just passing through. Not their usual reception for new cats on the block. So, I was pleased, thinking this would be a harmonious transition. Well, it was, except for me. Each day, I grew a little bit more enamored of this kitten who’d taken up residence, not only in our home, but in my heart.

There was a sweetness about her that seemed out-of-the-ordinary. I’ve known and loved countless cats in my lifetime. Each one is unique. ZuZu, though, had an angelic aspect…a sweetness…that was hard to define. It just was.

The virus cleared, but something was going on that became apparent in a few more weeks. She wasn’t growing like a normal cat, nor enjoying much kitten-ness; and eventually her nervous system gave way. There are so many things a cat can have, as I understand it now. But, just as she was given the green light for a year, things began to go awry. We tried one route of medicine, but that didn’t work. And, I intuitively knew that she was going to leave us.

Somehow, I felt it should be her choice. She wasn’t in pain, and I thought perhaps some miracle might happen to spare this little angel that chose me for this experience. Just as we’d think she’d be gone, she’d perk up, until finally I hoped against hope that she really did have nine lives and would snap out of whatever it was that was taking her down.

I’ll always wonder, “why me?”

A long time ago, when our daughter was a small child, I came across a greeting card that so entranced me, I framed it and hung it on her bedroom wall. Something about the cover picture drew me into it.

The word “Congratulations” floats in white along the top, as if drifting among puffy clouds hovering in a rosy amber sky. A tawny-gold kitten sits in bright green grass on a flower-strewn hilltop in the foreground, gazing across a dreamscape of more hilltops toward that distant horizon, as if contemplating the adventure, somewhere out there, which lies ahead.

It sounds bizarre, but could I have possibly attracted this kitten into my life because I’d subconsciously absorbed that picture in my mind’s eye? Well, it’s fun to think so, since I like to operate on the premise that – not only are all things possible, but that there is a purpose for the way things happen that we may not always understand. I like to think that, because it helps me make sense of things.

Right now, making sense of this doesn’t compute, because I’ve lost my little sidekick. All I have left are memories. Memories…of telling her I love her, listening to a St. Francis (Patron Saint of Animals) meditation day after day, praying for a miracle, holding her, feeding her eventually with a syringe, again. Ironically, she’d loved to be fed with the syringe when she came to us, so that was the easy part.

What was not so easy was saying goodbye. I’d show her the picture; and she’d appear to be looking at it. I’d tell her she had to go toward the light, across the rainbow bridge. I sensed that, in her tiny lioness heart, she wanted to stick around. And, she did, all the way through Christmas and just enough to give the New Year 2012, and me, a good send off.

ZuZu loved to bat acorns around the garage, when she first came. Those were her toys. So, now, I think of her that way — playing with her acorns. And I picture the love that she shared with us as being like an acorn, the heart of a tree, that blossoms and grows, bigger and taller, lovingly spreading its branches.

I recognized the beauty of the light in her; and she, with the grace of St. Francis, seemed to be telling me that it’s time, now, to blossom like the pink flowers on the mountaintop. In her presence, I sensed a doorway. But was I sending her through it, or was she sending me?

She loved to cuddle into the sofa pillow under the leaves of our potted orange tree. At Christmastime, I decorated the tree with miniature blue lights. I’d watch her gaze up at them, wondering what she was seeing…thinking.

I began to wonder if I was having a close encounter with an angel. Maybe I named her right, after all. A beautiful quote I found, by an unknown author, gives the assurance that “when angels visit us, we do not hear the rustle of wings, nor feel the feathery touch of the breast of a dove; but we know their presence by the love they create in our hearts.”

This furry small wonder captivated my life for four amazing months, bringing dazzling sunlight and joy; and, along with that came some surprising revelations to my heart.

“Graduation,” the inside of the greeting says… “sunset of a beautiful past…sunrise of a bright tomorrow. May tomorrow bring you a world of happiness and success.”

If purring counts as happiness, then ZuZu exuded joy. Her constant purring seemed to be a lesson, even in that, of a simple demonstration of love…love no matter what.

Love is the message she brought with her. Move on from the past, toward the light of tomorrow. Allow it to bring you success and happiness. Be patient in all things. Go with the flow, even more…riding the wave to the shore.

I’m sure I’ll always be trying to unravel the mystery of what was happening to me. But, it took on new meaning during Christmas, as we watched the movie about George Bailey and ZuZu. Of course, I was expecting a Clarence-like miracle for this little kitten, peacefully sleeping, safely snuggled in the folds of my leopard fleece robe. I wanted this “wonderful life” to have a happy ending.

Once, during my kitty hospice time, I thought she was revealing a remarkable epiphany: “You’re not sending me to the light,” a voice seemed to say. “I’m sending you to the light.”

ZuZu, my little gingersnap, you’re probably right. You just keep batting me acorns, wherever you are, and I’ll grow them into trees.

All Things Beautiful: The Daily Mandala: November 30, 2004

2012-01-19T20:30:00.000-08:00

From the depth of my being, from the core of my soul, I'm aligned with my creator...expressing the lightness, the beauty, the oneness that springs from the lattice of love in my heart. ~ ATB

All Things Beautiful: The Daily Mandala: November 30, 2004

Danny Kaye - Hans Christian Andersen

2012-01-18T21:30:00.000-08:00

2012-01-01T22:24:00.000-08:00

Here's my wish for you in the new year, to carry the love of Christmas in your heart...as revealed in my Dec. 31 blog for LivingstonTalk.com...

La Flor de Noche Buena: Christmas Eve Poinsettia weaves its beautiful winter magic

Christmas is the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart. ~ Washington Irving
Nothing kindles my heart at Christmastime and the New Year like the poinsettia. La flor de Nochebuena -- this beautiful plant native to Mexico -- is truly the Christmas Eve flower in our family.
Shades of red, pink, green, cream, crimson, orange and white…it’s always been the starflower of Christmas night. From the time of Franciscan friars 17th Century celebrations to 21st Century churches everywhere, the brilliant star-shaped flowers symbolize the Christmas Star, the Star of Bethlehem…and to me the magi and their Star search.
The flower is named after the first United States Minister to Mexico, Joel Roberts Poinsett, who was also an amateur botanist and introduced this beautiful plant into the United States in 1825.

"Starflower" mandala from Henry Reed collection
February 3, 2011 www.dailymandala.blogspot.com

My favorite is pink. I’m not sure why, except that each color seems to express an aspect of the feeling of Christmas. Red, of course, symbolizes the blood sacrifice – for ancient Aztecs, to the sun, and later to Christians, of crucifixion of the Christ. Pale green poinsettias bring a light freshness of all things new and healing at the New Year. Cream touches on the gentle spirit of the season; and white, its purity. I’ve not seen many orange-toned poinsettias, but they’d express, to me, the wonder of creativity and of new insights and resolutions at this time of year.
I love the brilliant, rich red poinsettia my husband brought home for Christmas. Having the plant on the table for family dinners offers the touch of tradition, beauty and meaning to the annual celebrations.
For many years, along with others in our church congregation, we’d order a couple of huge poinsettias . They’d grace the altar in banks of wondrous pinks and reds until Christmas Eve, and then at that late night service, we’d take them home. There is something special about that tradition, as well, bringing the poinsettias home on Christmas Eve.
Yes, my husband is partial to the deep red flowers. I’ve often wondered why I take to the pink tones. But in recent years, I think I’ve discovered the reason. Pink, rose, fuchsia, ruby represent to me the colors of the heart. The heart of Christmas, which for me, means making the feeling of Christmas last all year long.
“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” ~ Norman Vincent Peale
Yes, the soft pink tells the story of the magical attribute of Christmas, the beauty of the hospitality of the human heart, which expresses itself most outwardly at Christmastime.
Putting all these colors of the poinsettia together, you have all the harmony of Christmas that you can carry into the New Year. I can nurture my Christmas poinsettia along throughout the coming weeks of winter to remind me.
The starflower’s beautiful blossoms nourish my heart with joy in the midst of wintertime, weaving its magic with promise of blooms in spring…symbolizing emergence of a new heart within, healing and peace all around us.

Blessings for All Things Beautiful in 2012...
SusanGail

2011-12-27T19:30:00.000-08:00

Mid-Michigan Winter Beauty ~ photo by Susan Parcheta December, 2011

Love came down at Christmas,

Love all lovely, Love divine;

Love was born at Christmas;

Star and angels gave the sign.

~Christina G Rosetti (1885)

2011-12-27T18:36:00.000-08:00

Mandala Art by Henry Reed December 25, 2011

There’s a reason folks want to keep the Spirit in Christmas. Before there even WAS a Christmas, there was the longest night of the year, and we learned to draw from that darkest moment a source of inspiration. My prayer for each and every one of us is that there BE a new birth from within, a creative spark of new consciousness, a new flowering of the heart. Let our inner mother be attentive to the slightest hint of it, nurturing it with the warm acceptance that only a mom can give, an acceptance that is unconditionally validating. And let our inner father, with his protective arms around mother and child, defend from doubt this vulnerable birthing process by patiently providing intelligent appreciation of the wisdom found in God’s Nature. Letting go at the farthest reach of darkness shall be followed by the dawning of promised new awareness. By sharing the gift of love with others, we honor with joy the season’s magical mystery!