LET THIS BE THE YEAR...

                                Birmingham, AL

Let this be the year of a new slant on life and all that tags along with that.  Let this be when I see you and your glowing face and celebrate how lucky I am to know you.  Let this be the year of shouting out loud…of saying I love you and hearing that echo back to me.  Let this be the year to celebrate all I have learned and all that is still waiting for me.  Let this be the year of hope, gratitude, learning, amazement and all that tags along happily behind.  Let this be the year of much or little and all nested in between.  Mostly let this be the year to accept with grace whichever of those is given to me.  Let this be the year of all the things yet to be.  Let this be the year of flowers, laughter, songs, tears, hugs and memories. Let this be the year of hope, helping, caring and great mounds of happiness.  Let this be the year to have a world full of people that fill my heart.  Let this be the year of new connections and new ways of meeting the world with acceptance and openness.  Let this be the year when I look in a mirror and nod…liking the woman I see.  I will grin to see her trying, rejoicing, dancing, playing and all the other things that fill her full to bursting.  Let this be the year when I say with full heart…I love you world.  Let this be that year!!!

INSIGHTS FROM MY COCOON

December 17, 2015

Birmingham, AL

Cocooned by quilts, tucked into the strong arms of shelter... rain taps insistently overhead adding yet more insulation while I'm burrowed into my snuggle-safe world. Oh how lucky I am!  I have in no way earned to be blessed while others struggle.  For me today, this isn't a call to rush headlong toward a great cause but to pause with indrawn breath and expand my awareness...to feel in my everyday world where I can add a little joy or lessen a burden or confront a need I would rather turn my head and ignore. Some people are built to lead great causes but what magic can individuals create by just their daily choices?  Cradled so tenderly I am graced to feel challenged to find out.

THE MORNING SCENE

Alpine,AL

THE MORNING SCENE

While admiring the lacy look of the trees in this morning's scene,  I am contemplating an artist exercise...to see not the shape itself but the spaces in-between.  Suddenly, Nature takes this opportunity to  reintroduce me to the void.  It is no more welcome a meeting today then when I first made its acquaintance as a young child.  The surprising thing is how I dodged this acknowledgement for so many years.  Sitting quietly, memories tumble over each other, elbowing to be first in line.  They parade before me all of the inventions I have created...all  to  keep from  acknowledging a fear that has walked apace with me my whole life.  Perhaps the primal fear...at least for me...to find myself alone, with no defenses, support, tools with which to change what is or distractions to help me ignore this state.  What I fear in that void I could give many names...death, senility, sickness, loneliness or any other specter that looms large, always waiting just 'round the corner.  Now, I finally see whatever happens just IS and is dealt with...the void is not to blame.   It is the hulking presence of the fear of it that causes all of the twisted, cramped, distorted reactions that go on for years... until the fear is seen and accepted as just a creation of my own thoughts.  Seen as my own creation, I can now decide how much power I wish to give my fear.   Nature reminds me as I turn to go that life's picture is never complete without the trees AND the void in-between...and bids me to choose wisely.

A LESSON FROM THE LEAVES

Alpine, Al

My morning window reveals some of the last leaves of summer on branches bare of most of their companions.  Their hold, no longer firm with resolve...looks tenuous...do they fear the floating, free fall to earth?  I think not...frail, yes, tattered, certainly but suspended 'tween heaven and earth they approach this day as they have all the rest.  How is that...has their notion of "future" shortened with the daylight...are they merely waiting for the nudge that sends them floating?  Again, I think not...I imagine that they spend their currency for this day as they have all the days before...they choose to meet what nature has in store with the best they have to give.  I hear them whisper,  "I have a choice and so, for yet another day... I offer up my heart."

NIGHT WATCH

Alpine, Al

Awake in the pause point of the night... my eyes are wide and straining for a cue to what is next...a hollow shell rocking side to side in an unwelcoming bed.   Weary I  rise to  bear witness, in a show is solidarity, with all the others that this night, dull eyed stare into the void... to out wait our abandonment.  Yesterday has faded and today is still abed.  We have outpaced our cues to what comes next.  

Across a great chasm a candle and it's fawning  shadows dance, the only movement.  Self important it's flame bobs and weaves... semaphoring nothing.  How strange to sit and observe in this darkened theater as the mind struggles to attach meaning to a void while emotions wait anxiously just off stage.  

A glimmer of understanding  begins to grow.  This is what life without the well rehearsed "me" is like.  This is the pause place where choice resides.  A new day can begin where yesterday left off, full of the same tired lines or I can choose to see that what seems a void is really potential waiting in the wings to be crafted into a unique, new day.  Potential doesn't allow the cue cards I was struggling to read.  Once it does it becomes just a remake of the day before.

Now I see life never paused... I had.  I nod my thanks to the candle I saw as a useless companion.  How wrong I was...it danced away it's hours...while I just sat.   Back in bed with the candle's lesson tucked safely in my understanding, I plan to awaken later to a new day, a new play and a new way.

FALL PODS

Alpine, Al.

Dried seedpods on stalks

Rattle with promise or death

Same tune for both.

A REMINDER

Alpine, Al

The moon whispered,  "each night I will send you a reminder!"

TICK TICK

TICK TICK

September 26th, 2015

Alpine, Al

Tick, tick...In the predawn dark the day slides bare toed down the hall.  The me that's yet to be waits, eyes stretched wide against the inky blackness.  Tick, tick...inside this bell jar moment,  anticipation tussles with the ease and languor of being present....it runs it's  loop...what is true, how to see, things to know, ways to be.  Tick, tick...my mind is half way through the day and my body has yet to clear the bed.  Tick, tick...ease and languor wait their turn.   No, this is but an imposter...no real ease and no waiting here, just the mind considering a different approach.  Tick, tick...listen... a lone cricket's tune echoes in the dark.  With that haunting song I'm pulled from head's anticipation and am present with the world...now true ease and languor melt my body.  Tick, tick...back again to thinking and this tug of war remains until I choose the victor...tick, tick.....wait, choose?

The decision...am I doing and that creates my being or being and that creates my doing?  One struggles to mold the day ahead with the firm, deft fingers of will power...the other in the tingling stillness of the unborn day, waits to gaze upon the face of this much anticipated child... then life begins.  Which feels the lighter way to be?  Which carries more joy, freedom and creativity? Which way do I choose?

TENTS

TENTS

September 30, 2015
Alpine, AL

As a young child I was a great adventurer.  Few supplies were needed to venture into an exciting world.  From my bed, lying with legs held up 'tent pole straight' and using my sheet, I pitched my tent.  I pitched it anywhere I chose and from that snug nest imagined what amazing things waited just outside the white cocoon.  During those nights in such a tiny space a feeling of expansion was gifted me.  I sensed the tug of nature all around and felt excitement for what there was to see.

Now, years later, I'm suspended in a hammock, under a spreading tree.  This time much larger poles are needed to brace the tent canvas of the sky...once again expansion blooms filling me with joy...for a brief while I feel part of all of this beauty.  In this "tent'' I learn a secret as I swing.   Nature whispers gently..."perhaps it has never been what's outside the tent that opens you to life... but instead it's knowing no matter where you are you belong, that you fit in because, after all,  you're ALWAYS part of all you see."  

NATURE'S PROMISE

NATURE'S  PROMISE

9/13/15
Alpine, AL

Cupped in Mother Nature’s outstretched hands is a morning of such crystalline perfection…I hold my breath so as not to jar the moment.  Just yesterday in her browning and tattered dress, late summer greeted early risers.  Gripped in her humid hug she was unwilling to allow any to wander about without her.  However, this morning’s guest, Fall, crisp and spritely but possibly just passing through, has come to pay a visit.  With a courtly bow he flings arms wide in invitation.  There is such release and freedom in the offer I can’t resist rushing out.  I’ve got to sip from this goblet of ‘early morning champagne’.  The world seems heady with the feeling that everything is achingly beautiful and of great value on this glorious morning.  The dew glittering on some of meadow’s handiwork…once overlooked now holds such beauty…or the
spider web of dewdrop diamonds strung to sway and glitter on the grass, the cool morning air encourages me on…there is so much more to see.

As the party winds down and my footsteps lead back inside, I’m given a final gift of roses to commemorate this day.  Roses, but not new, perky blooms whose youth and inexperience holds not the depth of knowing needed for today…no these beauties are soft and weighted with the experience of life. The missing petals are but echoes of a younger self but what remains is filled with promise, reminders and joy.  The promise that things will always change, the reminder that spring will come again and the joy of knowing that this amazing morning resides securely in my heart.

THE FOG

THE FOG

9/11/15

Alpine, Al

Nature bent and lovingly drew a blanket of fog across the land while many of her charges slept.  The start of this new day has an added layer of batting... insulating it ... a Saturday morning 'sleeping in' feel has settled all around.  In this lull before life's engine begins to rumble, bare feet lead me toward the garden.  Morning dew is damp against my toes and cool air sidles past my knees... giving them a pat.  Following a string of humid days this coolness nudges me towards awareness .  The garden is just ahead and also a choice... do I sit and observe as the world wakes and stretches into life or stroll the path and join that life as it begins to stir?  Standing at the fork where I must choose I am filled with gratitude...for this time to pause, for Nature's bounty all around, for the ability to walk and thus feel the damp upon my feet, for the opportunity of choice, and for being present to see and feel it all...and, of course, for this fog.

POCKETS FULL OF PRECONCEIVED NOTIONS

 

POCKETS FULL OF PRECONCEIVED NOTIONS

 

September 6, 2015
Alpine, Al

 

Nature is tapping on the window and waving me outdoors.  Excited for a chance to play with her, I gather what I need and hurry out.  With the door flung wide and a grin wider still, I rush into the day... only to stop short … Nature shakes her head at me. “What?...why shake your head I ask”?   "Well can't you see your pockets bulge with preconceived notions of how this day should be?  Put them all aside and come out here with me.”  “ I can't do that I need each one...I’ve collected these for years.  They tell me what I need to think, what it is I see...what's important now to want and just how that I should be”.  Resigned Nature mumbles, “poetic but that makes no sense at all to me"!  "Ok, come on she says you'll learn". 

Maybe this isn't going to be a perfect friendship after all  (the ‘Friendship Notion’ is tucked safely in my pocket…I know what to expect and this isn’t feeling quite right!). Once we begin the day Nature ambles over and sits beneath a tree.  Oh well, I‘ll begin MY day.  I pull a wrinkled notion from my pocket, shake it out and hold it up to reality…they don’t match…reality is going to need real work today.  As you would suspect of anything preconceived… sometimes the notions look a lot like reality, at other times not so much and some never match at all!    By the end of this day I am tired, hot and ok, dirty...this being one of those days when  WORK has been required to nudge reality toward an acceptable ‘Garden Notion’.  Glaring at her I see Nature still rests under the tree, her arms folded with peace and joy swirling ‘round her.  Hey, she calls to me, I've been watching you...sometimes you look happy, then you frown and shake your head, then next maybe boredom appears… the list goes on and on.   Come sit here on the ground with me and let's talk.  "Why do you feel no joy with our day" she gently asks?   I spread one of the damp and crumpled notions on the ground.  Obviously nature just isn't aware that preconceived notions show how things are supposed to be.  Look, to be happy right now this is the notion that I chose...to be in the middle of a beautifully manicured flower garden with blooms all around and butterflies dancing happily above the scene.   I have been weeding and weeding and I'm losing the light of day... look at the weeds still to go....this doesn't yet match my ‘Garden Notion’ so right now there’s no joy for me.  "Well I see what you mean," Nature says pointing to the notion spread between us on the ground.  "This notion is very specific and detailed, not much leeway for deviation here," she shakes her head..."but could you tell me the most important parts of it for you?"   "Well the flowers and butterflies, of course," I say...a little exasperated that nature doesn't seem to understand… stopping to teach her is putting me behind.  "Just one more question," she promises.  "Stop weeding for just a moment, look up and tell me what you see around you?"  I stop, look and bewildered say, " I can't really tell you...because sitting here... I can't see past the flowers and the butterflies."

NATURE'S LESSON TIME

 
NATURE'S LESSON TIME

September 3, 2015
Birmingham

Gather ‘round one and all, Nature’s lesson time begins just now…this week’s guest is The Amazing Potential…here to mystify and amaze.   By way of introduction let me say, Potential’s shapes are many and as varied as all the world around.  The tiny seed has a majestic tree tucked safely in its heart…the hungry, earthbound caterpillar retires into its cocoon only to emerge... a sky-bound butterfly with winged cape held wide… a diminutive nodding flower throws a party beckoning guests with little bits of nectar…as these guests depart what's left behind is more potential still…the promise of bounty for our table…and perhaps a party of our own.  There is much more to come so please welcome our special  guest.

 The Amazing Potential, appears quietly on the stage, nods and with a flourish places an odd looking plant upon the stand.  “Dear ones, the plant before you a Night Blooming Cereus and I are here to show you one of my more amazing feats .”  


The lesson  begins .... I am often a surprise, Potential begins the show by saying...I'm always there but sometimes hidden under wraps.  The surface may not even hint at what amazing things are there for you to see.  So you must be open, attentive and don't rush to judge.  The Night Blooming Cereus is my gift to you as a reminder.  The leaves are flat and grow at awkward angles...some even wave high above the plant.  It has no space to lovingly cup a flower to its heart.  Ahhh, but the inventive Cereus handles this..out of the knife edge of the leaf a miracle begins.  Sturdy and determined it starts to grow...but dangling down and staying close to mom.



Now but a few days later ... what is happening...No longer just a babe it is strengthening with determination and begins to curve up toward the world ... its special gift is forming still.  Now children, even perhaps like you, this bud's potential is clenched tightly at its core...but wait!!!  Can you guess what it has to offer the world?  It is time to see!

For the finale

There is mystery in this story also!  Our flower has special requirements for the show.  It must be late in the evening and there is only one performance...so this magic is just for you ...  a guest at the show but know ...the really special things may not be bright and loud and shiny but quiet and  mysterious instead.

 

 

                    And so it begins!!!

The evening is humid and still...perfect for this offering.  Our bud begins to stretch open and fling arms wide.  Its delicate perfume  is calling to notify all who might wish to attend that something  beautiful is being created and the time has come to begin.  Patience is needed ...  sometimes  potential must work its way slowly and carefully into the world. 

 And so children ...The promise that began as a small package just over a week ago has been delivered to the world.  There is such beauty here and also  lessons to learn.  Potential is everywhere not just where you expect to see it...often to enjoy it you might have to take the time to seek it out...also, don't think that you know what it will look  like...wait for the surprise and, most especially know...each of you has your own bud of potential waiting to surprise the world...and maybe even surprise yourself....so let it grow!

THE LURE OF WEEDING

THE LURE OF WEEDING

 

August 25, 2015

Alpine, AL

 

Nature is playing with my mind today.  I am getting a lesson in just sitting and doing nothing.  A day of no agenda stretches before me and MUST be filled...or I risk being overwhelmed with the creeping dread of whole minutes with no distraction.  I acknowledge this dread as an old issue that needs attention...ok this won't be fun...OH WAIT,  look at those weeds, the garden just can't wait, I tell myself .  Knowing weeding is never taken lightly...it comes with determination and avoidance, dual driving forces...I now see avoidance is way out in front in this day's race.  The next moment I breathe a grateful sigh as mounds of healthy, green weeds beckons me and poor self-reflection is shoved in my mind's old, ill-used trunk for long neglected things.  With a secret grin for the hours of evasion that stretch ahead, I bend to start.  Suddenly the sky darkens, and the rain patters all around.   I duck under a shelter no more than a bench and tin roof...over the din of rain I hear the squeaking hinges as self-reflection shoves against the trunk lid.  Before I know it I am sharing the bench with the feeling of enforced stillness that I've been dodging...I have never called it friend.  While the rain drums over head, I squirm and avert my eyes ...preferring to watch the reflections bouncing in the puddles to what this interloper may reflect back to me.  As the tension builds the rain suddenly stops and I bolt from the shelter grateful for my waiting weeds.  Things are back to normal...I'm weeding once again...there I'm making progress,  doing something needed,  things are looking better,  I stopped short of patting myself on the back only because of muddy hands.  Then suddenly a dark, brooding cloud, radiating disappointment that I'm dodging this inner work, is looming over head.  Back to the shelter and try again, I hear it rumble as it slings rain drops at the earth.  This continues all morning, each time I try avoidance, nature counters with rain.  Finally I give up, go inside, clean up and attend to what this day is demanding I learn.  I hear the clanking noise as the wheel of life slows then stops...no longer covered by life's clatter  the tape of old issues and commands booms into the silence.  Back when I believed that they were mine, I tucked them in the stillness then covered them over with a busy life... but now  exposed for me to understand, they surge forward then immediately begin to disintegrate with age and decay...what is left is quiet stillness...the place where the whispers of ideas and creativity first speak.   I now call stillness a friend...out of the corner of my eye I see self-reflection smile and silently slip away as the sun breaks through the day...and the weeds, oh yes, still  wait for me.

DARK OF NIGHT

 

DARK OF NIGHT

 

August 21, 2015
Birmingham

 

The inky, cloud-covered blackness of the night throws an arm over my shoulder and leads me into its world...a blind invitee being gently steered along.  Instead of fitting easily into the scene, all my senses spring to life pushing against night's hand covering my eyes.  Deprived of sight, I helplessly struggle to name...thus claim the world around me.  To once again have the safety of feeling I'm the center of it all.  In daylight my realm of authority seems to expand... this larger footprint encourages the world to shrink to a manageable degree.  But, oh, in this dark, this non-'real' world...all labels abandoned with the light...I'm reduced to the bare bones of being, to seeing nothing outside of me.  This elemental, ineffectual me is tiny compared to the great unknown that surrounds.  I need to see, to gain control as usual …by hanging labels over people and things like Christmas ornaments.  These labels come packaged with plenty of directions...they have no sell by date...they take no thought to use...and the feeling of control is built in.  BUT, can I grow if I tag my world with labels or fear the 'night world' feeling of a lack thereof?  With these labels and the judgments they support have I just built a box, decorated it with safe assumptions and sit snugly in the light?  Out of the darkness a haunting question comes to me….. Is there ever change and growth while the need for labels persists?

CONTAINERS ALL

CONTAINERS ALL

August 18, 2015
Birmingham

Mother Nature is carrying a great armful of clouds across the sky today... spilling raindrops as she goes.  Her treasure is being scattered on the land.   With a cupped hand, I reach to catch tiny vessels weighted with potential.  Reflected on their surfaces is the world around... advertising all that they support...while being held in life’s transparent skin.  I marvel at all the pursed lips waiting to draw in these life giving parcels…or the chain reaction the gentle taps start in motion...and how without these pats, life would not exist.

Broadening my view I see a world…containers all...each a different shape and size...each vital...each interconnected and brimming with what they have to offer.  Yes, but what about that stone or the soil?...then buildings, food crops and a chain of images flow from these.  Once 'potential' is the lens used to view the world, I play with it. Next,  I peek and see that each human, like the rest of nature is filled with their special offerings and tell myself... we all come equipped, so just relax and let it flow.

THE POINTILLIST DAY

THE POINTILLIST DAY                                 

August 17, 2015
Alpine, Al

A new dawn begins the pointillist’s portrait of my day.  Night’s velvet drapes are drawn apart revealing the day’s outline slowly rotating into view.  Then suddenly the paint brush is passed to me...life and I are collaborating, after all.   Life has prepped the day but just a pencil sketch … each minute I must choose which dot of color represents my moment in the day.  There are rows of pigments laid out for me.  Some colors speak of joy and peace, while others touch chords of sorrow and despair, dull greys of boredom, reds of anger and the tans of inattention are all in place.  There may be times when the only dots that work are the whites of acceptance…of just acknowledging what is… and trusting there will be times of color yet again
. 
Never before have I seen so clearly the choice is up me…that each moment’s dot is a color I select.  The artistic decisions for this portrait are mine…life just supplies background.  It is up to me to interpret how I wish the finished product to look.  I remind myself the picture emerges only after most of the dots are in place…at the end of the day what is revealed is what I  painted with my choices… do I like what I see?…I chose each one, after all, none were chosen for me.

TREE TALES

TREE TALES

AUGUST 16, 2015
Birmingham

 The show opens with silhouettes of leaves tapping a tale against my bedroom wall.  Jittery and jumping in the breeze... these shadow puppets are a parody of busy, urban life.  With wringing hands they fade away then jerk nervously back to view.  The story nears it's frenzied peak when leaves part and sudden calmness comes to  me.  The hero of this show... the quiet, stately shadow of the tree... arrives at center stage.    Yes, the movement continues... but is of  little consequence against this sturdy calm.  When  the clouds come in, the shadows fade... and last of all the tree .   Why a front row seat to this production...what is here for me to see?  Then the  moral of this tale seems very clear to me.  Even in a busy, outer world....I  have my inner tree.

BIRD'S EYE VIEW

BIRD'S EYE VIEW


August 13, 2015
Birmingham

This has been a puzzle pieces kind of day...in order to get one thing done, first other pieces  must be moved  all over the board of life.  You know... one of the jangling  phone calls, canned music wait times, round and round with people and answers kinds of day.  Now it's evening and storming... the phone is chiming out the warnings ...a tinkling kind of tune for dire announcements!   At this point life could  easily have added a period  to this day's  narrative and called it quits...instead nature tapped me on my shoulder and gifted me with a memory.  I close my eyes and I'm transported to  a different time and place.  This  world  is wrapped in  heat and stillness... so quiet I must be the only creature for miles around.  My attention is drawn heavenward to a shadow passing by.  High above a hawk is solemnly riding  thermals.  With a slow, downward wing beat he thrusts himself even closer to the sun...then begins a long, slow glide.  Suspended in the sky,  he floats in larger and larger circles balanced  between heaven and earth.   I watch as he goes round and round and round just gliding .   What is his perspective on this world spread so far below?  How tiny and insignificant much of it must be to a creature that can autograph the heavens.  Suddenly, I'm  back to earth with  thunder rumbling and rain pattering ...but how different this day now feels after gliding with a hawk.

THE PATH

THE PATH

August 9, 2015
Birmingham

This mornings' well planned path snakes ahead leading me toward the finish line. It's early and awareness has yet to catch up with me.  When it arrives it begins whispering to leave the path and take off through the woods.  "Can't, I'm supposed to follow this path," I say and then close my ears to the continued lure.  Once arrived awareness doesn't give up so easily...it flits in and out among the trees so that I catch glimpses of something I might need to see.  I turn the bend and there it is again now propped against a tree.  This 'supposed to path' it says to me ...is it for you or really just for validation? Because you know validation may be the end result, but shouldn't be the reason for a choice.

Ok  but...life's a lot safer if I follow a path that many have used...that has been shown to work,  one 'THEY' say is right for me...and ok that 'THEY' are pleased with me for choosing.  Then I'll be part of a group of pilgrims all headed in the same direction.  Or, I can veer off of the approved path and head into the forest following what calls to me.  Then, when I pause, even if alone, I can look inside and realize I have my perfect guide.  Some times I may look up and see no one in front of me to lead or cheer me on,  then turn around and find that they are following behind.

A LESSON AT MAMA'S KNEE

 

 

A LESSON AT MAMA'S KNEE

 

August 9, 2015 

Alpine, Al

 

Sweet Mama summer has a slooow sway to her this time of year. She's sweet, hot, slow and drowsy.  Throwing the farm door wide I step out to meet her on this country morning.  Hot, green, damp smells let you know she is up and checking on her babes. Dew is wet against my legs but, even so, I glide through it drawn by the glittering promise balanced on blades of grass...a time limited offering.  All the nectar sippers are tippling before the heat of day...all around the world is moving at a easy summer grace. 

Then I hear a familiar voice, "Ok enough of all this, there is much that you must do before you leave for town."  The 'musts' pile up until the view of this amazing morning is hidden from my eyes.  All I see are hurdles, boxes, boulders strewn about... My pace increases as I clamor to the top of these.  Once reached I pause to wipe my brow and circle round to see there are many more just waiting there for me.  In a far corner, under a shady tree Mother Nature slowly beckons me.  When I draw near she peers and with sad shake of head says, "why do you let that crabby thing poke at you"... honey child all that pushing, hurrying, running and striving  they aren't my creations...look around you this is life.  That other stuff...sometimes I don't know if you humans are ever going to learn.

THE STORM

THE STORM

August 8, 2015
Birmingham

Dragging promises of rain to come, a brooding  grayness has elbowed it's way into the day.  In the stillness a sense of waiting, of biding time permeates the space and I react with dread. What chord is plucked...what feelings stir?   When did this gloomy closing in and shutting down first signal abandonment? A fearful sorrow is reflected in nature's down turned shapes and indrawn breath...of suspended animation.  The day, like grief, is pulsing in anticipation.  All at once the fury is upon us...as fast as it appears...that quickly it recedes...the sun again holds sway... And then the world continues with it's day.

This time there is a change... lessons left behind and sculpted by the storm.  I know now that, even while it rages and all around feels bleak, I am not alone... I am part of all that is and thus all is part of me... and finally, finally now I see that once faced self-storms lose their power to intimidate. 

THE GOLDEN THREAD

THE GOLDEN THREAD

August 5 ,2015
Birmingham

Dawn is breaking and night has once again performed it's magic.   The barriers are down... the mind's mason is fast asleep... but soon a day of building walls begins again.  For  now, I am freed from that maze of ME.  I can wander in the darkness and never nudge those walls.

In the early morning all of mans' inventions to divide us from our common flow have yet to feel the call of day.   In this new made world, the  magnificent oneness ...the  connection to all of life... is there for me to see.  It glitters in the sun...a thin and golden thread .   Grasping hold  I rise up with the Canada geese, feel the tug that forms the V and the urge to cross the sky.  I am the lift of air that, partnered with those wings, propels me toward the future.  I am the swishing sound created from that partnership, reassuring in it's strength and purpose.

The momentum  changes throughout the day.  Invented busyness obscures the early morning lessons and the walls go up.   Wrapped in an insular existence...my fingers open, my heart not so much and the thread of gold starts to slip.  Then suddenly in another being, I catch that golden glimmer  and my awareness shifts...the thread is still within my grasp.    I regret the hours lost between the knowing and once again remembering but console myself.  Tomorrow  the walls will be lower still  and the thread  wrapped  more tightly 'round my finger.

MORNING JOY

MORNING JOY

August 4, 2015
Birmingham

The music of cricket joy is bouncing 'round the yard this morning.  I long to see them rub their wings in glee.  I'm just a visitor...only half removed from sleep... a silent, empty vessel  crashing this party.  All around nature's grand piano begins it's morning Ode to Joy.  The deep tenor notes of the stately, nodding trees rumble through my soul.  They're celebrating the day by draping all about them  leafy shadows bobbing and swaying in time.  Then another joyful chord...morning-busy birds pipe in...being also the dancers for this 'do'...they're flitting and weaving their way through all the revelry.  Theirs' the spritely notes for the morning's tune.  Next, I spy and early morning guy advertising his joy and love in a most ostentatious way...perhaps he adds a counterpoint to all the rest.

Once the dull observer, now filled with the joyful energy of life, I shake my head in wonder.  I've no need...to buy a thing...to work to earn the right...to look a certain way...or be a certain shape to feel this joy inside.  When open to the moment...the tune plays right through me.

CYCLES

CYCLES


August 2, 2015
Birmingham

The heavy, green weight of a still summer day blankets the earth...a gentle breeze sneaks through but hardly nudges the leaves aside.  Seeds spilled, young raised, new life has taken shape. ..contented with a job well done the world dozes in the heat.
In the midst of stillness, change is stirring in it's den.  I'm trying to detect the exact moment that this occurs...when momentum gathers, breaking the stasis with it's first tumble into fall.  Will a hitch in energy occur...long before colored leaves signal autumn to the world?  Do I have such subtle signs to my own impending change...should I rouse my drowsy self to acknowledge them?

A LESSON LEARNED

A LESSON LEARNED

August 2, 2015
Birmingham

A gentle curve of wing flashes by...
Trees, straight as sentinels, suddenly dance and sway upon the mirror of a pond...
The sky's wide and achingly blue chest expands and puffs the next breeze toward the earth...
Field flowers entice 'wings of color'  toward promised nectar with just their party dresses and subtle scents...A forest cool and  green waits patiently to enfold the sun-weary with needed respite. Nature easily  gives form to feelings so very large for me that they mutely push against my heart... hoping to spring free.  Grace, movement, expansion, joy, comfort, connection  how can words express feelings such as these?  Then I walk outdoors and grin to see...Nature in her wisdom has said it all for me.

BREAKING OPEN

BREAKING OPEN

July 31, 2015
Birmingham

The sun is breaking it's promise with the night to leave the sky in darkness.  A crack is forming along the horizon as it muscles it's way toward day.  This is but one of  life's fissures  that cradle possibilities. Seed pods crack  allowing nurturing  life to seep in,  a storm downs a forest tree breaking open the canopy...the sun gladly fills seeds it spies in the duff with stirrings.  Flower buds break their isolation and fling arms wide, welcoming guests to carry new life as they wing away.  All around these breaks occur and with each... new growth and life emerges.  So why faced with my own inevitable breaks do I dread the aftermath.    Why is life's smooth and placid water of more value than the storm tossed sea and breaking open?

TEACHER

TEACHER

July 30, 2015
Birmingham

I am in training with a tree...there is much to learn from something with no need to teach.  As many truths as leaves are falling all around.  In the quiet stillness my rushing need to festoon myself with these truths is jarring.  For just a moment, I catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye...some illusive knowing  just darted by.  I pause while 'truth leaves' I have managed to attach dangle limply.  Then my teacher's voice floats to me,  "they are not a cloak dear child...you will never be a tree.  They are but fertilizer for the you that you will be".

CHOICES

CHOICES

July 28, 2016
Birmingham

I am watching trees invent themselves in morning light...just outside my window.  I love this waking time.  The ME has not yet formed...not solid yet today.  For now, I expand and part of the waking world.  IAM pulses through my limbs.  I AM part of the morning light discovering things hidden beneath the shade of night.  I AM the ragged purr of AniCat as she settles into sleep.  I AM the cool morning air brushing knees, a cat... then moving on.  I AM the birds' sounds greeting the break of  day.  Oh yes, I AM!

Other I AMs...are commands disguised as thoughts.  They are like dogs whose freedom is measured by the size of their pen.  They lurk not in the outer world but in the small, cramped space of mind.  They try to appear tiny and tuck themselves neatly into the moment's flow...really looming large and standing rigid in the gloom.  They glare while edging closer,  trying to jostle me into day.  Get up, get going you have much to do.  These also...Oh yes, I AM.

Finally, I AM the one that gets to choose.  Hello wide and wonderful world...I choose you!!!

THE VACATION-ME

THE VACATION-ME

7/26/2015
Birmingham

Vacation's expanded me is resisting being folded and packed away.  My suitcase lies open from last night's arrival.  The poking finger of should is busy this morning,  Ok, hop up, grab those signs of leisure and whip them into shape. Stubborn remnants of a different way are holding firm.  Even today, I'm choosing the vacation-me...not being herded through my day by thoughts of should.  Why jump up and let my openness to life slide into that case and then be stored away...there is a cat sleeping on my belly, after all...and much more to life than shoulds supply.

LEAVE TAKING

LEAVE TAKING

7/25/2015
Vermont

The solitary bell of leave-taking echoes in a squeezed and empty space inside.  With shallow breath I hope to cross the span of loss... while having little contact with the ache throbbing inside.   My being shouts, "this I love"...and dreads the severing of that final thread that tethers this moment to the next to come. The Goodbye!

MEMORIES

 

 

MEMORIES

July 24, 2015
Vermont

Why stuff experiences and emotions into little bottles neatly labeled and shelved?  Is it the industry or smugness that blinds me...while the next moment slips by unnoticed...and what is accomplished?  Years later, once again sitting in the Vermont woods, I can say,  "Oh yes, this moment is just like the one in the old bottle on the 4th. shelf...you know the second one from the left.

I SEE, I HEAR, I UNDERSTAND

I SEE, I HEAR, I UNDERSTAND

7/21/2015
VERMONT

The early morning window is thrown wide.  Birds' songs, memories, desires, fears and needs press for attention.  Each jostling to gain the upper hand and claim my day.  Lying abed I wonder how to declare a victor.  There must be a way to choose...the clamor and my indecision leave me rooted in the moment.  I kid myself that the choice is taken from my hands.  The break of day has won again I say...all the rest recedes.
In the morning stillness the leaves outside bear witness to my hidden knowing.  They wait for me to see that bowing to distraction is my delaying tactic.  I secretly hope in the insignificance of immobility... that fear and pain will pass me by.  Really how well has that worked so far?

Lessons from the Vermont woods...the dawn will break, the day will make, the night will fall and I will have the strength to meet them all.