The glass splintered in a symphony of bells
Never to be put back together
One shot is all you’ve got
No turning back the clock
Shards of yesterday rest on the floor of forever in the present moment
No use crying over… spilled anything really
Amongst the shattered glass sparkling like diamonds lay your lessons learned your blesssings earned
Cash those blessings in for something more resilient next time
No use in making up
Sometimes our lives need shaking up
Once upon a time, there was a beautiful teacher. Her classroom was filled with art and big floor to ceiling windows that allowed for the sun’s golden rays to pour in. Other teachers thought of her as a bit unorthodoxies. But that was OK. She knew what she was here to do and the thoughts of others would not distract her.
She had requested her children be allowed to have a longer nap time. She wanted each of her students to be able to wake up in their own way. Waking up was a beautifully unique experience and she felt it in her heart, right in the God space, that this was the lesson that they must learn for their lives. She wanted them to learn to respect and value their dreams and the dreams of others and appreciate the present from an awareness of the connection between their dreams and their realities. You see, their dreams would create their realities. She placed flowers and luscious plants around the classroom, and played soft affirmations throughout the day, she talked about feelings and colors, and what they meant. She taught them to list the things they were grateful for and to appreciate Mother Earth as they connected their toes to the soil. She helped them to understand the complexities of negatives, positives, and balance. All of these things were to fertilize the soil of their subconscious and to enrich the roots of the trees that she hoped would bear healthy fruit in their conscious minds.
She had one little one that never seemed to need to sleep so she didn’t force her. She provided that little old soul with loner tendencies new tasks to complete during nap-time. Sometimes the little girl helped to get the snacks ready or she read books. Sometimes the teacher asked her to draw pictures of what her life looked like in vast detail and sometimes she simply sat in silence swirling in the present. She wanted the little girl to understand that though her classmates were not awake she was not alone and that she could still begin to actualize her dreams in that silence. She could learn, grow, and create in that silence. That was a blessing.
Each day the children would begin to stir around the 33rd minute of the hour.
Two or three would wake up early stretching it out and moving back to their seats, chitter-chattering along the way connecting simply because they had woken up first. On occasion, she had to check their little attitudes because they seemed to think that it was a race, that because they were first to wake up that somehow they were more special. They had not realized that her little helper, her little old soul had been awake the whole time creating in the quiet. She thought it curious that her early risers tried to guide the old soul as if they knew it all. This made her laugh. One afternoon she held the old soul’s hand and looked deep into her wide eyes and reminded her to listen to her own voice. It had gotten strong in the silence. She could trust that voice. She could use that same voice to tell those little egos to mind their own destiny. After a while, the early risers stopped with this conscious competition. They learned that it caused them to miss out on knowledge and blocked their blessings and actually slowed them down. They took on a new role.
The early risers learned to love on and help the sleeping dreamers who woke up crying. Sometimes waking up is scary and you need some soothing. She had some little ones that would wake up ready to run outside and play. Let’s go! they would shout. There were others that would wake up and just lay there processing. They would rise and take their places. She had some that would wake up and fall back asleep and wake up and fall back asleep. She knew that she would have to assist them in breaking this pattern. The time for dreaming is over. Be fearless and get up. There are beautiful things waiting, but they can’t wait forever she said firmly but loving as she gently shook their shoulders. It was time to start tuning in. It was time to start living in the present moment.
Nap time was special. The sleeping dreamers would become the reality creators. The teacher thanked God every day that she could be there in sunshine filled rooms filled with art to teach the children to dream to believe to actualize. Because one day the sleeping dreamers would elevate the whole world.
God bless the sleeping dreamers and the reality creators.
You don’t believe in me but that doesn’t mean I don’t exist
I show you my heart and my art and I see blossoms of disbelief in your eyes
You want an explanation of the why or the how or the origin
Evidence of your inability to except and appreciate things, people, and places just as they are, and not what you expect them to be
You don’t believe in me but that doesn’t mean that I don’t exist
You don’t believe in me but that doesn’t mean that I won’t persist
Thank you for not believing in me
Thank you for showing me your disbelief with your words and your actions
Your disbelief has freed me
Freed me to realize that the only beliefs that truly count are my beliefs about myself and my belief in the Higher Power that created me
I believe in me and I do exist