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In this newsletter:
Poem: The Power of a Smile
Myriah's Quit Smoking Journal
Smokefree Christmas Carols
Story from the internet: Adventure with Grandma
Meditation 'The Smile of Your Soul'
The Power of a Smile
By Myriah Krista Walker
I smiled upon a woman
who was lost in her own thought.
She caught her face and lifted
up a smile for me to spot.
Her smile made my own joy grow,
and so I shared again,
and watched more faces lost in thought
uplift among my kin.
Not blood kin born of likened flesh,
but kin of my own town.
Though not related in this place,
in Oneness we are found.
More faces familiar than not,
though we don't know each name.
A smile becomes our common thread.
The joy that keeps us sane.
Paint the world with colors
in a simple sort of way.
Brush the world with smiles
and all discord fades away.
I love the power of a simple smile. So often I see the masses rushing about, busy in their own reveries and details of their self-imposed schedules, putting a hurried face before the world as they scurry through. I love those moments of being present, taking the time as I get out of my car before I go into the store to be present. To discard my own human sense of things, and smile.
I love the startled look of someone suddenly aware of their own self, caught up in the illusion, and seeing, if only for a moment, that awareness as they genuinely smile back, relax a little, stand up straighter, their face now glowing. Perhaps there will be a moment to chat or share a giggle. I love witnessing the illusion fade as all previous sense of self dissolves.
I notice in many that a smile is not a natural state of grace upon their face. How often do I walk about with a pure smile of contentment and joy etched on my skin? How I love to receive an unexpected smile from another. How I love to give that to others as well.
As promised, here is the link to My Quit Smoking Journal. If my experiences help another to free themselves from that horrific addiction, it will be the greatest gift I've ever received. For a real dose of fun, check out my Smoke Free Christmas Carols. With humor and honesty, we can overcome anything.
The following story I received via email. It is sure to bring a smile to your heart.
Adventure with Grandma
I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"
My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.
Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go."
"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous, cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.
I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten- dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors,the kids at school, the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of BobbyDecker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs.Pollock's grade-tw0 class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that BobbyDeckerdidn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy BobbyDeckera coat!
I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. "Is this a Christmas present for someone? the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's .... for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.
That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it -- Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to BobbyDecker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers.
Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."
I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.
Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in BobbyDecker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team.
I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.
He who has no Christmas in his heart will never find Christmas under
a tree.
Author unknown.
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My final offering for this newsletter is The Smile of Your Soul, a contemplative exercise in feeling that sense of joy in every cell and molecule of your being. For me, it never ceases to return me to that joyous Presence that I truly am.
Happy holy-days everybuddy.
Always with Love,
Myriah Krista Walker
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