I believe the antidote to much of the world's suffering is in the nurturing of our hearts. This nurturing happens when people understand they are loved, appreciated, seen, supported. My tiny revolution is waged against the elements that make us less of who we truly are ~ the elements of fear, greed, and judgement. It's a tiny revolution fought by tiny matchbox shrine warriors, but the LOVE is big. The matchbox shrines are the champions of our goodness~ packed with acceptance, compassion, appreciation, honor, hope, and assurance. These values are expressed through words, symbols, intention, and small details. I believe that these shrines have an independent power for finding where they belong. They are on a mission I have not often been made aware of. They seek out who needs their message.
These shrines are each a reminder, a prayer, a poem, a connection, and a wish.
I feel we are repeatedly offered advice that we rarely ask for. I believe the way to feel the most empowered in solving our problems, is when we have the opportunity to follow our own knowing. Often its in the assurance that there is someone aware of what we are experiencing, willing to listen to us examine whats in our hearts, and available to love us through the whole thing- just as we are, that is the salve on our wounds. This is the blessing of their presence. Truly, I feel this may be the bravest offering we can extend to the people whose experiences touch our own. Because of this belief, common messages found in the words of these shrines are: "I am here for you," "You are not alone," "You are close to my heart," and "I understand."
In my tiny revolution, folks are reminded this is an opportunity to share what's in their hearts for the people in their lives. Towards healing our world's suffering or simply expressing your appreciation for a magical being in your life, this is your opportunity to touch someone's heart. Do this in any & all ways that move you. And if you are inspired, feel free to be accompanied out there on the front lines by a tiny, but fierce, matchbox shrine warrior. xxoo
deep fondness for clothes hanging on the line, billowing with the breeze, whether they are my family's clothes or a stranger's. Even in the National Geographic Magazine photos of refugees sitting in almost empty rooms with their clotheslines stretching from one wall to another, I find some warmth and respect for that which is slow and deliberate.
As I was gluing my little matchbox shrines this morning, I hung Boppa's clothespin bag on the edge of my work table. I pulled out clothespins one at a time as needed. They are light in weight and in color, this assortment I have bought over the years for a myriad of uses, but mainly for hanging clothes on the line. As I worked, I didn't realize I was getting so close to the bottom of the bag, until I put my hand on a heavier one. I pulled it out. The wood was dark and the pinch to open it took more force as its springs were tighter.
I guess some people still have what is called "the good china." Well, we may not have something like that. What we do have is, "the good clothespins". These are the ones that my grandmother & grandfather used. These are the ones they pinched to open, every time they washed a load of clothes and took them, soggy, to the line in the backyard where the sun ripened their tomatoes and dried their clothes to a crisp. These good clothespins are the ones that touched their laundry, and touched other things that needed holding together (just as their cousin workhorses, string and rubber bands and duct tape would do).
I just barely grew up in a slower time where laundry dried outside and grandparents weren't "like" second parents, but truly were second parents. And when I touch the good clothespins with my fingers, somehow I receive a tactile message from them that runs through my body & heart. I hope to send a message back, but I'm not sure it works that way. So I consider prayer as the vehicle of my expression. And all I need to say is, "thank you."