I haven't really looked at the website, but I have linked it here for the curious. The idea is that for 29 consecutive days you give a gift to someone else, if you miss a day, you start all over. Doesn't have to be a big gift, could be something small, but you have to conscientiously give it, acknowledging that it's your gift for the day. The idea is that to change your life or make a change in your life you have to begin the change and at the end of the 29 days I'd imagine there is some good karma waiting for you, what you created by giving of yourself. 29 days that's a long time, a lot of offerings. I keep forgetting to give my gifts conscientiously, after I do something I think, "Oh, I could have started my 29 days today". Then I think the best day would be the 1st day of the month, so you wouldn't have to really remember what day you were on because it'd match the day of the month and my usual OCD stuff like that. A good place to start would be the website huh?
I read a poem the other night, it's by Rilke, one of my favorite poets and it's called "Offering What We Are". It is what got me on this particular crazy train, which also took me to saying "I'm a walrus" from "Breakfast Club", which then got me singing The Beatles "I Am The Walrus" which then got me wondering about the "expert textpert" line and how it fits in with texting today and what did Lennon & McCartney mean by it, were they just trying to rhyme expert? and and and I wonder why I don't sleep. Goo goo ga-joob. For now, for me, it's time to figure out how to decorate these bake pops. My husband's co-workers are going to love me - they get the results of my test kitchen. Only if the product is edible of course!
I cannot part from you without sharing Mr. Rilke's poem.
Offering What We Are
~ Rainer M. Rilke
Oh, the places we would pour ourselves over,
pushing into the meager surfaces
all the impulses of our heart, our desire, our need.
To whom in the end do we offer ourselves?
To the stranger, who misunderstands us,
to the other, whom we never found,
to the servant, who could not free us,
to the winds of spring, which we could not hold,
and to silence, so easy to lose.~