~ from cats, dogs and nature to the flowering of body, mind and spirit ~

Saturday, January 26, 2013

drink from the cup we swim within

Unable to stay away from the pitter patter of rain upon stone and tree and seat cushions who soak up the liquid jewels falling from the sky that earlier looked so menacing and now is opaque and comforting. 
Pouring into my heart more compassion long awaited, the knowing that is so familiar it makes my heart ache within an expanding chest, ribs flexing and softening as the rain fills my marrow with red delight. 
The patio is broad enough to allow my presence in dryness while I marvel at the abundant source of life. 

It comes from above! 
Raining down and bubbling up and puddling among the dense earth as it seeks a crack here, a nook there, for in the desert, finding a way deeper into the earth is a challenge, the soil like concrete, hardened by extremes of heat and arid breath like being baked in a kiln that is hundreds of miles in jagged circumference. 
But the rain fills the once-fired pot, even large as it is, and we drink from the precious cup that we swim within.

The cool breath of winter returns for a few minutes to remind me of the transitional seasonal swayings of She who dances among the cosmos and into the world She descends, dancing her tap shoes in the raindrops of love, and leaping across the sky, a graceful arc wherein She is the ballerina of heaven, and I can hear be-bop around the corner as the rhythm changes. 
I participate in her sock-hop where the gym becomes my back yard, and the girls’ full skirts are the dancing orange leaves twirling, held on strong stems of escorts that don’t want to let go, they hold hands and feel the beat of Goddess drums among the clouds, hidden yet heard.

Her message alternates between soothing dulcet whispers of cave-doves and the rambunctious trilling of the birds huddled within the protective branches of a creosote releasing its malodorous perfume into the moisture-laden air to remind me if I close my eyes that what sounds like a pine forest is definitely not.

My nose starts to drip like the tip of the agave frond already sharpened by heat and then frost, burned and withered and limp at the end of a magnificent sword leaf with razor edges in pastel shades that soothe like the gel of its sister aloe.

I shiver as a chill finds its way beneath the itchy gray wool of my poncho, creeping up my spine to flick the invisible hairs at the nape of my neck. 
Seems like all I can do is be here and relax, feel Her presence, and return to the space of being and writing. Bliss. 
To land in my familiar world of ink and paper, in flowing thought that echoes the bird haw-hawing on the nearby tree. 
Chirps and haws, flaps of wings. Do they know I’m here? 
Huddled in the only dry corner, a small space of witness to the world being plundered and saturated as She empties Her buckets into the board expansive cauldron of life; in spring, the mountains will erupt in a profusion of wildflowers, grateful for winter rains, storing the liquid gems in roots and underground pockets of rocky cisterns.

Breathing deeply, I feel the moisture on nose hair and delicate membranes that swell like a sponge to embrace the precious water floating in the air. 
At the top of the inhale, I pause and savor the cool refreshing moisture. 

All above is gray, all below is brown, yet the leaves already seem more vibrant and the totem pole cactus reveals a slick sheen upon its naked bumps as if polished to go to a dance forgetting its already here.

The clouds hover low among the mountains creating mystery and magic, hiding what is normally so apparent as it wraps the hard edges in pale felt scarves without color yet exuding a plethora of joy. 
Can joy be colorless? 
Can it dance the Divine without a rainbow shawl? 
Muted love is falling around us like the graceful gospel of Her melody playing around the elemental harp that is a desert’s guise. 
See Her eyes? There among the drifting spirals of mist, just above the veil of giggling song are Her orbs of granite and green. 
See Her smile as She releases the veil and all of Her charms are revealed; She will soon dance naked among the stars and desert cholla, jumping and resting, sublime in Her expressions of extreme. 


  1. This was so needed today - thank you!

  2. The rain sure is wonderful! I like the smell of wet creosote, but then I've never been in a pine forest after the rain...

  3. Glad to be of service, Renate. :-)

    Do you, Diane? So funny! A reminder once more that all is relative and unique... :-)

  4. Rain must be especially welcome in desert country. This reminds me of Disney's "Living Desert" (which I saw about sixty years ago) and how the desert blooms after a rain.

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  6. What lovely writing, Darla! I really enjoy reading about your sensory experience of the natural world in the desert---so very different from where I live. Your lively descriptions put me right there!

  7. Vicki, I can't begin to describe how joyful rain in the desert makes me.

    Beth, you are so sweet, thank you for the compliment. :-)

  8. Sensual, dancing - earth, air, even membranes absorbing the wet of refreshing rain. I started to pick out the parts that I really enjoyed, but then I decided I'd have to just copy and paste the entire story!

    1. I really appreciate your words and enjoyment, Rose! :-)


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