The snow flakes are floating gently down as I sit here, tap, tapping on my keyboard.  I have been tapping out  the words this last hour on my novel.  The words come but they do not fall off my fingertips with the ease that I desire.

Am I experiencing writer’s block or is this heart block?  I am sorely vexed with bad and unkind feelings towards my neighbour.  There she is already, shoveling the snow off her driveway and pushing it between the Junipers, into our yard, even after many requests for her not to do so.  What neighbour would do that to another?  What woman to another woman?  Where is the respect?

I fingered my rosary, the one that Ollie gave me, breathing in and out as I touched each bead.  I was so happy to run across Kay’s post yesterday on gratitude.  She was using her singing bowl and rosary to meditate.  That reminded me that I do have four rosaries gifted to me on my baptism.  It was time to find them.

I was drawn towards the rosary with large, blue beads.  I held it in my hand.  I felt the coolness of the beads and then something else.  It was Ollie’s presence, her goodness.  I was quite sure of it.  I knew then that I can breathe in this bad energy and not harm myself.  And breathed out out what is good.

Compassion Road is such a hard and rocky way.  The traveler needs roadside assistance every step of the way.  I am glad to have read some of the Dalai Lama’s My Spiritual Journey.  We are all human beings is his message.  We all hurt.  I do not want to be hurt.  In the same way, the other person does not want to be hurt.  Knowing this, I can do no harm unto another.

Compassion is a very, very hard road to travel.  I clear my space with good energy.  I  hold the rosary close to my heart.  I breathe in what is here.  I breathe out white healing light to the universe.