Author: Jeff Shapiro

Today I find myself just milling along…
When I let myself settle, I can sort myself out…
There are answers in the presence of nature….
Where it is big, warm and peaceful.

But still there is worry…
Stupid stuff, like….
Why I exhaled when I should have inhaled…
Why the sketch never changes…
As I draw that same chalk line over and over again.

The ticking clock pays no heed…
Precise in the midst of my chaos…
The ringing alarms reminds me…
I have a standing appointment with the universe.

Then I figure, where I am is where I am…
So what if it is written in letters I cannot read…
I still can feel the vibrations of peace…
Smell the sweet scent of hope.

Yep, my life is something like that…
I mill and I mill until it is time for bed…
It is here that I feel strong and safe…
As I drift asleep in my Butler’s arms.

I love you,

Annie

Each day brings eternity…
The spiritual wind…
The muscular sun…
The feeling you know so well as it passes over your soul.

The person at its center is you…
Telling you to pay attention to the present moment…
Yes, the present can be improved…
Eternity allows it.

The present leads to a stream…
The stream leads to a river…
The river leads to the sea…
Where you can sing alone to the stars.

There is no need for excuses…
The errands can wait…
Yes, your life might seem like a hopeless tangle…
But eternity will set you free.

Inside there are no winners or losers…
You understand that your blessings are enough…
You become like a baby bird in a nest…
Nurtured, cuddled, and loved.

I love you,

Annie

Look! Is that a doorway hidden in the stars?
Where do you think it goes?
Maybe to the heartbeat of all life…
Maybe to the place where all is written…

Doesn’t it seem exotic and fascinating?
I bet it is safe from the tears of pain…
Wow! Look at those welcoming, sparkling flakes stretching in all directions…
Smiling back at the horizon.

But, I can’t always see it…

Often thick clouds block the corridor…
With lightening bolts of shame and guilt…
Turning it into musty tones of grays and blacks…
Causing the light to narrow into shadows.

I wonder who is on the other side of that door…
There is an outline of arms stretch outward…
Yet the distance between us is much too far…
She whispers of a well-worn path.

She tells me the pathway is a pathway of kindness…
It will free me from the tangled banks…
Yet the invitation says I need a second for the party…
Come, there is room for one more.

I love you,

Annie

What if…
The things in our lives are less difficult than we think.
That pain is making everything look different than it truly is.
That the fragile really overcomes the hard?

Yes, cold adds to cold…
Ice builds upon ice…
Yet it is love that provides the sparks to melt the cold away…
And lead us through the choppy waters.

Fragile is who we are…
Pushing the boundaries of our dreams…
Taking us by the hand to a newly cleared spot…
Full of fresh herbs, fruits, and flowers.

Good news!
The future has yet to be written!
Within the seed of hardship is the history of the world…
Tomorrow is a journal entry on the tip of your pen.

So, go outside!
Be alone with the heavens, the angels, your fragility…
Then, you can face your fears at the midnight hour…
And have new strength to create your future at the break of dawn.

I love you,

Annie

The lake is like a mirror…
Still, breathless and calm…
Standing on the water’s edge…
I watch the water sky.

Such a clever construction…
The unbelievable, now believable…
A land of blue, of clouds, of mountains, of trees…
All in the water sky.

Here, structures don’t require blueprints…
The pictures impossible to improve…
Of peace and love and the music of spheres…
All in the water sky.

There is no pattern…
Nothing to mend…
Here are the answers to your questions…
All in the water sky.

There is no winning or losing…
No fear of failure to keep you bound…
You don’t need to strain to hear the melody…
Just rest by the water sky.

I love you,

Annie

Each moment I look for compassion…
Nothing more, nothing less…
It is a part of everything…
It is the soul of this world.

I treat it with reverence and awe…
As the thing, most sacred…
Even if the the world, like dunes, are continually changed by the wind…
Compassion holds firm.

Compassion gives each of us a name…
That’s right, you cannot name yourself…
You are named by the things you do…
Compassion teaches you who you are.

This is way your days are supposed to be…
Where everything you do is real…
Where each touch is a gift…
Where each life is a miracle…

This is not an impossible mountain to climb…
Nor far away in some distant field…
It is within you like a coal from a forge…
Ready to flame gold in the sun.

I love you,

Annie

Let me see what you are making…
It is as if you have been molding that clay for a hundred years…
What you see as ugly and mis-shaped…
I see as beautiful.

I can sit here and watch you for hours on end…
To witness you becoming a part of the work of your hands…
I see It is becoming more important to you than any treasure…
The clay beginning to show a reflection of your face.

So, why is it that sometimes knowledge becomes more important than your creation?
When the wisest of all, know nothing…
Knowledge is not how you feel love…
It will not keep you safe from the worries of the night.

I see, you have added to the clay splashes of scarlet…
Shapes that look like tears…
A pattern that looks more like wrinkles than a crease…
Stop, before the beauty disappears.

All the while the trees whisper…
Asking such a strange question…
Why do you fail to give your work compassion…
When it is coveted as a masterpiece by the rest of the world.

I love you,

Annie

Choose a color!
White is the most forgiving…
Knowing all the secrets of the world…
It is like stepping into a fairy tale.

Red is the most brilliant…
Appearing with the first stars of the evening…
Stretching you past believing…
It is the hand that inspires love.

Green is for beginnings…
The first signs of Springtime…
It requires no explanation…
As it wakes all souls.

Blue is eternity…
Like the universe it expands and expands…
It is the gift that will help you discover all the treasures in this world…
The gift that will show you how all natural things are connected.

I know, it is difficult for you to choose…
You, yourself, being all the colors of the spectrum…
But each morning you can pick a color from your basket…
And allow it to be the breath for your day.

I love you,

Annie

You don’t have to pretend to be alive…
Pretend to be kind…
You don’t need to pretend to know where you are going…
All you have to do is to step forward into the moonlight.

This is both easier and harder than it seems…
Always between laughter and worry…
Given from a life much older than you…
The one who will take you home, when your journey is through.

Few pay attention to life, yet always the children…
After all, it is just a kingdom of air…
All with an echo of Her face…
All with an underlying grace.

Life is the pure language of this world…
It is the softness of a baby’s hands…
It holds so many colors without deception…
It has no thoughts of pretension.

So why pretend?
Inside yourself is an eternal well…
Yes, the shoes you have been given are a little too big for your feet…
But you have a lifetime to grow.

I love you,

Annie

Where does this road lead?
It seems to be a long walk to anywhere…
Something keeps telling me to push eastward…
But I have a very bad sense of direction.
 
The universe is helping…
It has been on many voyages and is thirsty for more…
The fiery stars continually burning a pathway…
With light, like streams of ribbons, flying through the trees.
 
The ranges are wide and dramatic…
Eating up a moon every month…
The morning sun a simple shock of red…
Lighting a fire for another day’s journey.
 
Along the way….
 
Haven’t you surprised yourself with your wisdom, strength, and love?
Found that you are different from other people?
Why does that surprise you?
You simply had to look a little deeper within.
 
Where does this road lead?
Your road may be different than mine…
Yet, with each step we experience something wondrous…
Don’t forget, the universe is helping.
 
I love you,
 
Annie