Ho’oponopono
Lani Matsu-Zovein
As a writer, she knew that telling stories of her life experiences, sharing her core values, and inviting them to see into her soul was the legacy she wanted to leave for her family. And so it was when she remembered the Hawaiian phrase, “Ho’oponopono,” a magical part of her heritage she wanted her family to live by.
Ho’oponopono is a Hawaiian word that means to make things right, to put things back in balance. It is used to bring forgiveness and love back into our ohana—our family—into our relationships (including our relationships with our ancestors), with our earth, and within ourselves. The gifts of this cleansing lullaby, this Zen-like mantra, is humbling, soothing, and healing.
It is an ancient Beautifully Simple Yet Powerful Prayer: “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.”
Whisper it over and over again to yourself. Say it out loud to others. Feel it. Mean it. And your life will be filled with light and love.
Barefoot
Dorothy Long
It was late spring and school was out, time to be free and run barefoot until September. That wonderful feeling of freedom, as one tiptoed across the dewy grass touching briefly on the warm cement sidewalk. The feel of dirt between your toes. On to the cool, cool feeling of the recently maintained road to pick up mail from the mailbox at the bottom of the hill.
Rain falling and mud squishing between the toes. Later, washing the feet in a pan of water and drying before entering the house. Being brave and heading out through feed lots, dodging what animals left behind. Out across the alfalfa field, taking in that glorious smell and nature’s beauty. Perhaps stopping to pick a yellow dandelion flower or make chains from the stems. On to the recently harvested oat field, stepping onto the stubble field that remained. The hurt to the not quite calloused feet.
Then, tripping across to catch a horse. Pulling the horse by its mane to a fence post, slipping onto its back, and riding in the warmth of the sunshine. Feeling the horse’s sweat and finally returning to the fence post to dismount.
Sometimes a stray nail or piece of glass would cause pain to the toughened feet, but healing would come. Summer flew by and feet were not ready to be crammed into new shoes that must be worn every day. Time would pass, school would be out, and feet would again be free.
Mysterious
Ernest D’Godor
Life is a mystery. How can you think there is no plan, when things happen so perfectly, so succinctly that the result is a fabric richly woven with no seams. Let me give you an example:
I was an English teacher in Japan. Every Wednesday I taught an evening class in a small city to the north of where I lived. I had to take the Bullet Train to get there and to get home. Every Wednesday I waited on the platform waiting for the train. I had been doing this for over two years. I always stood in the same spot. No one ever came up to me to get free English lessons, in fact, most people steered clear of me, like I had the plague. It didn’t bother me, at the end of the day, I was pretty tired and only wanted to get home and go to bed. There I was one November evening, when I spotted a vision walking toward me. I think my jaw dropped. I had never seen her before, and I was pretty sure that I would have noticed. In my eyes, she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I tried not to stare, but she came up and stood right next to me. She was too beautiful to get off at my city, she must be going to Tokyo, I assured myself. Pretty soon the Bullet Train pulled up and we got on. She went and sat down, another sign that she wasn’t from my town. I stood in the area near the doors and tried not to keep looking at her. Fifteen minutes later my stop came up, and I could hardly believe my eyes. She was getting up to get off. My heart was beating so fast I was sure that she could hear it. Should I say something to her? Would she think I was some kind of a creep? The doors of the train opened and we streamed out heading for the gate. I was deep in thought. I went through the gate and turned around. I had decided to take the leap, throwing care to the wind, she might think I was crazy, but … she wasn’t there.
I had missed my chance. I cursed myself and headed slowly to the doors of the station to find my bus home.
Suddenly there she was, passing me to get to the doors. Without thinking I touched her arm and started talking. She turned to me, first surprised, then she smiled. She didn’t bolt. She stayed with me as we walked to the bus and I prattled on. I still can’t remember what I said.
Here we are 30 years later, married with kids and grandkids. The journey was not without its challenges. But we are still together and now we have grown into being a couple, not unlike two candles melted together.
The Japanese have a myth that couples are connected by an invisible red thread that is tied around their pinkies. It must be true, because she had been going to that platform every Wednesday, just like me, but I had never seen her before. She stopped going just two weeks later. Destiny. Mysterious Destiny.