from kitsnk9s to puspavat

everywhere

2012-01-30T14:02:00.000-05:00

Close my eyes and raise my hands.
Breathing, feeling the hum of Gaia throbbing through me,
I am vibrating ever so slightly in and out of matter and energy,
wavering in my place here and now.
I feel at one and yet shift back and forth to know all.
Releasing, letting go,
to be present without attachment and landed without clinging,
One... yet celebrate diversity of creations of all that exists.

Close my eyes and feel space growing between my cells,
getting further apart, spreading,
particles and waves in prisms of rainbow light
and I am only an image through fairy mist as I expand thinner,
less dense, air flowing through bones that are no longer connected
by ligaments no longer taut but
floating loose and free as all parts of my body drift away into space and
I am only vibrations spreading far and wide,
passing through others who are still solid illusion.
To land--but lightly--each time the vibration changes,
I become form and shape to revel in the wonders of the world.
No need to choose because nothing and our form are the same components
only vibrating at different speeds yet not speed,
rather frequency...levels...nothing.

Close my eyes and the bee is humming himself into existence and back out again
for I hear him and then he is gone and I only assume he still exists yet
I no longer exist for him because he can see me no more.
Let go of preference and allow all experience to flow through this moment
bringing each wave into a shower of blessing before it soaks into the earth of me and grounded being.
Hear the songs of life, the rhythms that come through from plant and animal,
from those things we've created and those we think are no more yet have left
their chords strumming softly upon the strings of those same ligaments that connect our bones,
feel the air flow through those bones and hollows as we become the flute and the
song within the form that comes and goes.
Feel the massage that disappears the body until
only energy remains, a temporary cohesion, a pause where only
rhythm of hands and flow of movement is real and
all else falls away into a nothingness that is strong and true.
There is this interconnection of matter and energy that we know through senses yet
falls away the instant we no longer attach to those senses enforced in childhood and
then we experience self and world through the innocence of
new beginnings that are always here and
each wave is an ocean and each particle a mountain.
I am not here but am everywhere when
release becomes the music of each breath.
Only existing from moment to moment to
become the nothing out of illusion in an instant of non-attachment and
then weight rushes back into ground me.
The wise ones of animal and plant wink in and out of existence
without thought
as they ebb and flow within the world where we are all One and
they smile with us as we learn, joy of song in their shifting.
There is no real or illusion because it is all the same.
All one energy, one beautiful flow of vibration that plays a song of existence.
Thousands of years from now
when it is yesterday once more
we all will know this perfect birth as death of illusion and
joy will permeate all living as the emptiness that holds all love is now.

Close my eyes again and become pure vibration, everywhere.
And when I open my eyes, for an instant,
I am still everywhere ...
One with
the rocks,
the trees,
the bee buzzing,
the bird singing,
the dog barking,
the sun shining,
the air blowing
moisture into nostrils that flare with the inhale as
vitality passes throughout this body.
And then I land.
Here.
Grounded once more in this body with feet planted.
And we are One.
Everywhere.

Yucca and more

2012-01-27T19:28:00.003-05:00

While exploring Arizona further south and east, I discovered more breathtakingly diverse scenery! The view in this photo is of Texas Canyon, so named because of all the Texans who settled this particular area.

A visit to the Amerind Foundation Museum yielded a wonderland of boulders, trees and the gorgeous Yucca elata. I have been enamored of this plant since my first trip to Bisbee, so imagine my delight in finding it so plentiful in another unique landscape. Unfortunately, I have yet to get a good photo of this yucca, but, trust me (or click HERE), they can grow big and bold--to a height of 10 to 18 feet, with a flower stalk growing 4 to 6 feet above its wild, palm-like head! Elegant flowers, wild wind-tossled 'hair', shaggy trunk ... fabulous.

Oh, anyway, back to the Amerind where I thoroughly enjoyed the professional exhibits. I particularly appreciated the main room where they clearly showed through artifacts, maps and notes the journey of the Apache/Navajo all the way from Alaska into the Southwest. Fascinating.

This trip also led us down the road to the nearly deserted town of Dragoon, named for its proximity to the Dragoon Mountains. So where did the name "Dragoon" come from? I had to google and found that before they were called the cavalry, they were called the dragoons following in the European tradition from before 1776. Interestingly, considering the persecution of the native people in the area by the United States military of the 1800s, wikipedia also says that dragoon means "to subjugate or persecute by the imposition of troops; and by extension to compel by any violent measures or threats." A sad but true history; recall yet move on with blessings upon those who suffered.

And yet, to end the day, a day of reflection and honor, joy in beauty, we stopped in at a cute little, brand new Mexican restaurant called Mi Casa in Benson. The food was fabulous and I highly recommend it; I will certainly be stopping there anytime I go that direction, whether for future trips to Bisbee, or on the upcoming trip down to the Chirachua National Monument.

It's one long journey of discovery here in Arizona!

Strength in Cycles

2012-01-25T13:32:00.000-05:00

She rises strong and true from the depths of the earth where she was helping souls to know, to realize, to cross over into new beginnings.
She knew that her place was among both worlds and she stood strong and solid in the wisdom of the cycles of all life.*

Accepting love and grace from all around yet also from within, cradling her own face in compassion and hugging her Self in all its beauty revealed to the world without shame or embarrassment.
She stands in confidence and sincerity as she steps into the light once more.
A gentle smile curves her mouth as the branches of the underworld, rooted in time, become the fingers of expansion that encourage her and
welcome all she brings of life and beauty into the footsteps of allowing,
her prints barely visible yet a slight impression left behind to hold a few drops of mirror-water,
a seed or two of scattered potential,
and petals fall in her wake of the ultimate knowing that all hold dear and share.

She is fullness and strength made of mud and water and warmed by sun, dried by air, held in space of infinite creativity.
She brings a grace to every movement in each moment of now, for cycles can flow away before we are able to reveal ourselves and that moment is gone.
Yet in her solid form, she stands for each of us as guide and mother, sister and child.
Where is the waxing and the waning of womb and wild?
Right here.
She becomes our friend and Self as we feel her compassion for all.
Ever aware of the ebb and flow, she pauses.
Her stillness envelops me and I am her, holding in loving arms the form that carries me through the cycles of world and these of inner growth or recession.

Once a statue shaped by loving hands,
her eyes slowly open, dark and light the opposites of her orbs that see into my soul,
and her smile widens, lips part to reveal strong white teeth reflecting her delight to chew upon the impressions of life before digesting their full flavor,
as her arms drop away from her own form and she reaches out, open, inviting me into her embrace as the child becomes the mother and we come full circle.
Stepping out to honor.
Climbing out of the womb of mother, out of the caves where lost soul-bits dwell in their dark nooks to heal or hide yet she makes them all whole to move on.
Child becomes mother as mother becomes crone until death and transformation borrow each of us from form and we settle into the expansiveness of space in a field of flowers where all is sweet and then we realize we never left at all.
For this aromatic pleasure dome is here all around us, we are indistinguishable from air and tree, fire and canyon, rushing rivers around tumbling boulders of former walls no longer blocking channels of love.
We are already here.
She smiles at our wonder.
I have become her . . . I am beauty and grace and cycles of nowhere from here to there!
The impermanence swells within me and I give birth to new eyes, fresh vision, and the love of All rushes out upon the space around me in squiggles and lines, stories and experience, words of witness to all the joys of Light and Dark.
I look down and I am her, made of mud and water, air drying in soft caress upon my heart and the sun warming my smile into realization. I have become the gift at the end of creativity, for I am the composition of life's cycles. I am her.

And I see her in all those beings around me, our vessels carrying sparks of love that shine through and all the colors of rainbow-clay around the world mix within the palette of her palm and . . .
We are all her.
We are One.
Coming and going.
Cycles.
__________________________
This piece was inspired by an image (top of this page) randomly chosen for a portal/prompt. The image is titled Persephone (c) Selina di Girolamo 1998 from We'Moon '00 --
*Also, while many people only know the patriarchal version of the myth of Persephone and Demeter, there is another version that is shared in Lost Goddesses of Early Greece by Charlene Spretnak that I had read well over a decade ago. That 'pre-hellenic' version of the myth is the one that emerged while I was writing the above.

Resonance of Community

2012-01-23T15:07:00.000-05:00

See in the sunlight the spark of inspiration that saturates the sky, the atmosphere, with infinite potential. All of creation's inspiration is spread out before me when I look up! An entirely new infusion that is just as precious as the abundance of trees in other parts of the country that only yielded a small glimpse of the wide open blue expanse. Diversity that allows exploration of so many channels of heart and life. Here, there, all is precious. While walking and talking, I could feel my entire being opening up wider and wider, my form becoming thinner and less substantial, as I tried to express how the expanse inspires me further along the path of creativity.

I inhale deeper. I want to inhale even more deeply all the way into the core of me, loving what was once daunting and enjoying the sensation of my channels all opening to profound breaths of Life!

Where once there was a deepening of inner dives, where I sought to feel soul's depths and discover secrets of the darkness, to heal womb and hollows where shadows might still dwell, now--ah, now--that particular path of healing has come full circle, wholeness warming, cradling, and so I feel able and emboldened to see where else the journey of life may lead me. Where shall I pass and who shall I meet from all walks of life and all species of flora and fauna? Since coming here, opening, expansion is with every inhale and I delight in the flurry of ideas and feelings and sensations, like a flock of birds that dart in and out, their acrobatics mesmerizing...and then they pause, all alight upon the branches offered so graciously and the peace of stillness descends, the trees share their rootedness with the creatures of the air and within that space something new arises that has always been present. Look within the spaces, the gaps, and perceive the images that are created when earth and air are joined, and the light behind reveals the miracles of love and creativity and community.

It may seem strange for me to dwell upon community when I seem, to those who do not really know me, to exist in a solitary existence away from people. But that is because community is not about only people--community is Gaia--it is all forms of life and elementals, all seen and unseen beings and conscious energies, all spirit and substance. All are community because we are all One. This perception is what I sense more than I know. I feel it on all levels and it is a wisdom that I am coming to feel comfortable with--to feel a gift of this inner concept that is more heart-centered than anything I could study. I read other's words and resonate in familiarity that what they say is already here within on an energy level that is becoming brighter each moment. My journey from childhood to young adult to mature woman has presented me with opportunities to learn and grow and I have accepted their invitation more often than not and I am grateful. From traditional religion, to the 'nothing' of animal kingdom and nature, to esoteric and earth-centered, to the divinity of the feminine, to eastern traditions, to knowing that all reveal the same truths in their core yet are couched in different words of human-imposed structural controls yet to be stripped away. See the community there! And there! I slip and slide, too, as I humanly stumble along this path yet I see with eyes of Oneness and that is a comfort and a gift. A gift I receive gratefully. A gift I seek to remain humble with wrapped in its warmth. To share as a witness not as an 'expert'--to let go of ego and welcome One Vision, One Truth to be expressed. To simply share the subtle essence of what I feel.

biodiversity

2012-01-19T20:26:00.000-05:00

"Overall, the Sonoran Desert has the greatest diversity of plant growth forms

- architectural strategies for dealing with heat and drought-

of any desert in the world."

~ A Natural History of the Sonoran Desert

unwrapped

2012-01-16T17:53:00.002-05:00

A present unwrapped*; such is the morning, waiting with infinite possibilities.
Pause and feel the stillness of Her unwrapped moment, the fullness of discovery, see the gift before us.
How is it wrapped?
With bright colors or pastels in muted shades of sage and dusty rose, or with ribbons of light, thin and curly or broad and substantial.
The unwrapped gift of the moment offers itself to be whatever we need: a hand to hold, a bird on wing, the eyes of devotion, the simple wiggle of a toe, or blink of an eyelid that protects yet reveals.
All before us is laid out in a patchwork quilt of unwrapped moments.
We are the ones who choose the packaging.
We are given the grace of opening into the space wherein the gift lays waiting.
All we have to do is reach out and pull the tied ribbon, release the moment so beautifully wrapped in wisdom and love.
But what about the dark package, the box sitting to the side in shadow, a haze drifting about it like smog?
Maybe we can barely see it out of the corner of our eye, abandoned or neglected or purposely ignored until the ebony ribbon is a little frayed and the wrap is dusty and dull.
Maybe it was a beautiful moment when first revealed but we were distracted and didn't see it, too busy to slow down, stop, admire the gift and unwrap it to reveal the most wondrous of all gifts nestled softly within?
Maybe it was a frightening moment, paper all lumpy and crinkled, tattered corners and coarse twine barely holding it together beneath the thick dust?
Unwrapped...
Asleep within, as the light infuses the box, a tiny sprite, barely visible until we look closely, stretches, yawns and then, upon the joy of our smile, it flutters up to whisper a secret into our ear.
What is it? What is the gift of that moment that lay unwrapped for so very long?
The dust from the wrap is carried quickly away by the cleansing winds of change and the ribbon heals itself, weaving its frayed ends back together with silk threads of loving recognition that slide easily with a gentle touch.
And we find that this moment is exquisite--how could we have overlooked it for so long?
Just imagine all the other unwrapped gifts that might be lying around waiting, those precious moments now revealed in all their splendor when we pause long enough to recognize them and unwrap their mysteries.
Some large, some small. Some take place in a second, others were hovering nearby for hours or days just waiting for us to return to them.
Yes, a moment is only here and now but the gifts of memory and imagination allow us to revisit the treasures we might have lost forever. Isn't that marvelous?
So once in a while, pause and go on a treasure hunt, explore the inner world of Self and Soul, a landscape rich in possibility, to uncover, discover, and unwrap those moments too long set aside.
Blow off the dust, pull the faded tape, tug at the delicate ribbon nearly falling apart, and unwrap that gift--the gift of Life.
Every moment a treasure.
And then, just maybe, they will no longer be missed in the full gift of Presence--presents right now.
Each one will be seen, known, and unwrapped while fresh and new and full of Infinite Love, full of Grace, full of growth even in the darkest hour, because maybe their wrap is a little dark and black ribbon a bit intimidating but there is always Light within...

______________
* "unwrapped" was an emailed daily writing prompt through ClarityWorks online.

Essence of the Experience

2012-01-15T05:36:00.001-05:00

Essence of the experience rather than specifics.

That thought came to me while I was contemplating writing character bios and scenes for my novel. I was thinking about how it is an effort for me to focus upon the specifics of what's happening around me--from conversation to appearance to action--and I realized that I seem to absorb the essence of the experience rather than the specifics, or at least in recall mode that is what happens. And it may account for my poor memory of past events and people in my personal life, too, because unless something is to trigger the sense or es-sense of the detail of whatever it happens to be, my recall can be anywhere from hazy to non-existent. My mother despairs of me because she easily and accurately recalls enormous amounts of detail from over the course of seven decades!

For writing novels, it is repeated, in nearly all of the instructional books I've read, that one needs to be a good observer of the details of speech and action and all the other facets of real life. I am willing to exert myself in this if it means a more realistic presentation of the story that allows the reader to be drawn in, in fact, encourages it. But also what about imagination? If one can imagine the story can we not imagine the entire manuscript to create from essence rather than specifics? I wonder. I have to since I am currently deficient in specifics!

But if I am to also encourage recall and therefore allow transference of details, then I need to focus. Maybe these can be 'dates' with myself, with my memory tissues, to set into prints upon my mind the sights and sounds of experiences? To sit quietly for a while along a street or sidewalk or inside a mall or museum, and listen...watch... I find when I am participating in the experience actively it is quite difficult to recall specifics, partly because of the speed at which life moves these days--fast talk, quick movements. Even slower movements are without pause, without stillness to take in the segments and photograph them into mind, and so are still challenging.

It's like when life becomes too hectic, I withdraw my senses back into my self, including memory, and life bounces off like a ball against a wall. An invisible wall that moves along with me, bending and reshaping itself to the outer edges of the me that is form. So all I receive is the essence of what is happening around me. Did I erect this wall? Or is it simply part of who I am? I know the scattered thoughts of my own busy mind and when I feel additional scurrying of the outside stimulus become too much, up comes the bubble wrap like a Star Trek captain, somewhere inside comes the directive "raise shields!"

When I sit down to write, I feel a scene arise more than see the specifics, and then I find I dig up the remnants like I am on an archeological journey of discovery, finding bits and pieces fitting them together like a puzzle. A fragment from childhood here, a shard from a first relationship there. It seems that there is plenty there to recover, but they don't arise easily on their own. I have to look for them. On hands and knees. Sometimes with a magnifying glass, nose in the dirt, and hope the bit isn't prickly...

They definitely aren't recalled like Mom's where she recalls stories instantly in all their former glory, darting back and forth, past to present and back again, all the names and faces and dates and experiences. Story is an integral part of her--she lives those events again in an instant, repeatedly, yet doesn't struggle to find them. For me, the past--last week or two decades ago--is gone and it is effort to recall it.The present moment has always been more here for me.

So where do they come together, the essence and the specifics of an experience, and how do they mesh. How do they affect the end result of a novel? Could this be an aspect that determines whether one person creates a 'realistic' version of a story? Is a 'literary' novel or a mostly narrative novel easier for an essence person to write as compared to so-called 'popular' fiction with all its dialogue? I enjoy reading all kinds, but what is mine to write?

This writing process is a journey, even aside from the story that is being written! LOL

Real or Illusion?

2012-01-12T18:46:00.006-05:00

These past weeks, as I explore more of Arizona*, I fall into the impressions of those beings who have traveled before me; I sense the spirits of the native tribes, the pioneers, the average people, and the many wondrous creatures of the desert who experienced their passages.

Contrast the sensations of walking Tombstone --

"A phantom bullet whizzed by my head and spectral puddles of blood blotched the desert skin like the pox as I trod the streets of Tombstone a century after its hey-day. Yet beneath the crass commercialism and tourist-trap stores, enhanced or at least invigorated somewhat by staged gunfights and corner pitchmen offering wagon rides with or without spiels on the infamous of the town, I could sense the struggle, the haunting faces of the regular people who only desired to feed themselves or family and who tried to stay out of the way of the power struggles of wealthy, influential and often violent men of the times. This was a town once full of saloons, adventurers, and painted ladies, and their ghostly breaths scratch and drift like tumbleweeds across my aura, tingling."

or strolling Old Tucson Studios

"Walk the sand that holds within its depths the footprints of entertainers, of actors who brought the stories to technicolor life. Walk down the streets, view the facades, touch the weathered wood and crumbling adobe that was once sensed by those familiar faces of old. Ghosts but not because they lived the stories--they didn’t bleed and love and suffer what I saw on the screen. Rather, they absorbed the essence of their characters, portrayed many lives, and now these buildings and creaking wooden sidewalks speak of how all life is tied together. How we connect through our stories and feel the vibrations that linger within the dirt beneath our feet and soar in the sky overhead. These elements hold the past, present and future. Not as archeological dig but of memory and story. The air seems to carry the echoes of all these voices who spoke their lines and told the stories."

What is real and what is illusion?

Or go deep into the mountain that shelters the Queen Mine.

"Tunnels into a mountain, horizontal or digging down in vertical shafts.

Like leaning over and falling into Her depths.

Stretching our meager reserves to push further into Her core.

Backward-birthing to return to the dark and recover the pure shine of precious gems and metals that remind us of our own light within.

Does it feel like acupuncture to Her?

We think we go so deep and yet we barely graze the surface of Her skin.

Thank goodness our efforts are shallow."

Drive the wide-open desert-meadows (who knew?!) of Sonoita-Elgin.

"Pale brown stalks of prairie-like grass roll and sway gently all the way to the horizon where only moments before there was cactus--now gone. The pale green of yucca dot some of the blond fields ... acres and miles of unexpected softness. A pocket of pillows plopped into the desert just to be different yet again!"

photo courtesy Sonoita, AZ You'll Like It Here

Soar within the world of the remarkable Harris' Hawks
at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum.

... we can only soar in our conscious awareness

and imagination--that is where we humans are able to enjoy ‘free flight.’

I am finding Arizona to be an entire country in and of itself as there is so much to see and do; I can choose to explore physically or to be in stillness within each presentation of diversity. The above are linked to my usual lengthier 'stream-scapes' (stream of consciousness writing style) on my other web site; if you are so inclined--enjoy!

And I made a new friend, too! Isn't he adorable?

_________________
* My mom is staying nearby for two months with a friend so, since they both enjoy exploring, we are doing far more in a shorter time than I would have done on my own!

Falling Diamonds

2012-01-05T21:56:00.001-05:00

diamonds falling

trails of stardust

disappearing

pastel dawning

painted with feathers

appearing

Stars fall in streaking shimmers,
there for an instant,
a mere blink,
and then gone,
waving to sisters and brothers
on their quick journey-flash
across the inky stillness
of space.

An infinity of existence,
winking in and out,
ecstatic.
Crisp and brilliant,
Her diamonds placed strategically,
enticing lives and eyes alike.
A streak here, the nakedness of random showers,
sparkling ... effervescent.

Head tilted back,
scanning for a glimpse of showers of light at night
and rewarded again and again.
There!
And there!
Cold seeps into my body and I sink further
into the big puffy coat that now has a happy purpose
instead of shoved to the very back of the closet.
Reclining while the tail end of the shower finishes Her glimmering rhapsody
in the minutes before dawn eases into the expansive bed between earth and space.
A subtle transition, shades that shift into each other,
their fingers touching as they lay side by side sharing the sky.
In the moments leading up to dawn,
I feel an amazing sensation;
like the world is brand new, just being birthed.
I am witness to Her labor.

Watching the ancient stars who are already gone,
merely winking good-bye from a distant past,
their smiles reflecting the light of possibility
for all those new sparks who begin the journey,
witnessed by us as diamonds on a necklace
scattered across Her infinite neck and waist,
ankles and wrists.
Hear them jingling as She dances in the night sky?

She offers inspiration from every pore;
Her stars and moon and shadows of lunar-illumination.

Dawn is soft and speaks of faith,
to trust in the new day, new beginnings.
Ours is the choice--same or different?

Shivers and chills chase themselves around this body
not used to the dense darkness.
Watching the stars hanging in their space,
I could have been anywhere--another galaxy,
another realm of existence.
What if I had been watching from the other side of Now?

As I meditate, time pauses,
do I feel myself shimmer out of this space, into another,
my star-soul winking here and there,
no more substantive than the light I see from a star that is long-gone.
Amazing wonders of our universe.
Gifted to have seen even once the miracles
of star-shine and dawn-scape
and diamonds piercing the mysterious black cape of night as they transform.
Each moment precious.
Senses bringing delights that satisfy and are ... enough.

This, a reason to rise early,
to experience,
at least once in a while,
the birthing of this new day that is
merely a spin on an axis,
a twirl of timelessness.
Easy to take it for granted and allow it to be unrealized.
But don't.
Know the passage of the turning of earth
beneath feet stuck to Her skin by the weight of Her love.
Experience all these miracles and know diversity of life and spirit.

Now, as I sit writing, the sun has arrived, though of course never really departed.
A star. OUR STAR.
So strong and powerful in its light.
For a moment I am once again elsewhere.
I see the light from our sun long after it has ceased
and we are the people who once inhabited the orbiting earth.
Moved on to different planes of existence.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
how I wonder who you are,
and who you held in your light and nourished and shone the way forward.
I welcome our lights joining as One.
All lights as One.
Spread out across the sky yet connected by the invisible threads woven through the eons of life,
the sprinkled glimmering, sparkles that once were ... are the stardust that falls upon my eyelids and open my vision to Her light and our One light of love.
I see diamonds in your eyes.

Warm Winter's Light

2011-12-30T22:22:00.002-05:00

Sunshine and warmth in winter.
How truly wonderful this alternate environment is.
Delicious in its tastes of sun-tea,
brown-sugar soil,
blue-corn skies
and rays of golden sun warming my exposed toes.
I love not wearing any shoes ...
this is the place to do it nearly year-round!

The concrete walls surround me in the back yard,
as they delineate yards everywhere,
yet I see the open sky,
hear the birds,
watch the mesquite that hangs
gently moving over our border,
a bee hurries by intently,
and I adjust to the beautiful starkness here
so different from our former home in Maine--
surroundings even in dramatic contrast
to the vegetation and landscape of nearby Tucson.

When walking down the long paved road yesterday with the dogs,
who trotted along on their short legs
sniffing the air and watching everything in rapt fascination,
I recalled words spoken before we moved here--
saying how I liked Nature to be all around on my walks,
and then arriving to realize the seeming emptiness
of this location divested of the abundance of Nature.
Yet not really. The dogs know more...
What is "nature" after all?
I see it/Her all around when my eyes were opened
from within outward,
the thin grasses,
the stubborn mesquite,
the resilient birds who sing in joy even here,
the glimpse of the huge black-tail Jack,
an occasional almost-spectral coyote crossing a road,
and so much more spread out before me,
stretching so very, very far
without confinement of barrier tree lines
or constantly rolling hills.
Gravel and sand, minerals claiming their right to be here
reflecting back the miners' supposed claims upon them.
Always slightly squinting against sun glare
in spite of dark spectacles,
the tension of skin reacting with arid space,
creating creases near the eyes more rapidly than in
dimmer lit environs settled in mists and clouds and shadows
more often than not.
Nature is all around me here,
She simply wears fewer decorations,
less clothes upon Her gorgeous tanned body.
I join Her in the delight of near-eternal sunbathing,
drenching my essence with light during the day.

Yet at night, pull blankets overhead,
snuggle into cocoons of warmth because
as soon as the sun drops over the horizon and
we tilt away from its glow...brrr...
a match dropped down a deep well.

I still marvel at the contrasts--
is it any wonder that I am like a kid in front of candy store
eagerly waiting for the door to open in the morning
so that I can go satisfy my taste for that sweet sunlight?
I step outside instead of inside.
Out into a world of brightness and subtle gifts
where nothing is ever taken for granted by
Her indigenous people or the native beings who
crawl, walk, hop, fly and grow.

As I continue settling into the experience of
living in this gorgeous-ugliness of desert survival--
over-grazed, over-farmed, abandoned when depleted
of its meager precious topsoil by those who were greedy and oblivious--
accepting what is,
I smile more,
I admire more,
I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to explore
an exposed world along with my now-revealing-themselves
depths previously unknown.
There is an exquisite aura of vulnerability
here where nothing is hidden.

We'Moon Rebirth

2011-12-21T13:46:00.001-05:00

Rebirth.
Not just in the Spring but in each moment as life brings changes from an instant, one to another, and again.
Birds fly in peace as my heart opens in gratitude, swelling with the earth, the sky, the shortest day as it goes by and begins to grow again in a new cycle, never the same twice.
Grateful for Her transitions that show me how to begin again, to be reborn.
I say Grace as my heart opens and we all join hands in Unity across time and space.
Light shines through, stronger each day, honoring the night while also welcoming the light of reflection.

Change.
Rebirth.
A year in retrospect that has been even more full of change than usual; although what is usual--is it only more full of change because so outward and obvious? perhaps every year is full yet often subtle and I miss the changes?
I'm grateful for the changes that have carried growth in ageless hands of blessing.
Grateful for the love and commitment shared with my beloved.
Grateful for the experience of moving--to know and learn a new land, a new dimension of Mother Earth, Gaia, as She spreads Her arms wide offering a unique landscape--a new palette upon which to paint my path.
Grateful for the faith and courage She brought into our hearts so that we could know we would be provided for.
Grateful for this house that has become a home, and is sheltering family; encouraging love, compromise, giving and allowing.

I say Grace for the abundance of beauty and wisdom that surrounds me every moment when I open my eyes, feel Her presence in the world of form through which Her light shines and grows.
I'm grateful for the pause of increasing darkness that enfolds and reveals the Truth within so that the flame can be seen all that much more clearly, flickering, bending, rising and ever glowing, deep red in the Core of Her Love.
I'm grateful for Her teaching of cycles and seasons on the grand scale as well as the tiny; to see my own life ebb and flow each day, each minute, reflecting the outer glory of Her gorgeous bright warm days and clear cold dark nights where the stars never seemed so bright before.
Silhouettes unfamiliar of cactus and distant mountains, of dry riverbeds seldom flush, of a silt the color of Her dried blood that seeps into my the cracks of my heels and presents a new perspective of rebirth; as Dormancy spreads yet Light also grows.
I say Grace as I turn my face to the sunrise, feeling Her loving smile feed mine.

Grateful for this new home, in a new place, brimming to overflowing with opportunity.
Grateful for rebirth in every second.
Easy to feel deep gratitude whenever I pause because I am alive.
All I need do is look within or around...
Within I feel love and peace; I feel a body that is aging and that has quirks but I FEEL and that is a blessing of life.
Around I see beauty everywhere, in Gaia's creations, and those of Her myriad creature beings, but also in that which is created by humans from tiles on floors to quilts on beds, all are so beautiful.
Grateful for the gifts of Nature in the animals who share my life and the wild ones I admire from afar, as they all embody freedom and delight in each moment...these "Guardians of Being."
Grateful for the food abundant here and now, knowing that its presence is never a surety in a world on the brink of massive change that could come in a second or a month, a year, a decade, or, Goddess willing, never in destructive harshness devouring.

Life can change in an instant, it does change continually, and so I am grateful in my core for Now.
Being present is a gift I didn't appreciate when I was much younger looking 'out there' for fulfillment...and yet grateful for that journey of youth for it brought growth and a bits of wisdom each moment of the stumbling steps.
Truly, reasons for gratitude are everywhere, and mind-boggling were I to try and list everything I'm grateful for.
So, I am simply Grateful...for life...birth, death, and rebirth in every moment.
Blessed Be
_________________________
Contemplative writing prompt from We'Moon iPad app 2011 (image above).

Sky is Home

2011-12-20T13:44:00.002-05:00

She kneels upon the earth, after swooping, falling, her legs spread to brace herself, balancing, opening her feminine core to the energy of the Divine Mother.
A creature of the air that transcends and integrates all the elements into One as she kneels to kiss the earth.
She has to land periodically, she cannot remain upon wing forever, and so she is grateful to earth for offering her rest and peace, a place upon which she can pause, wonder at her fellow/sister creatures who crawl and walk and swim and transform.
Her sturdy thighs are thickly muscled, surprising how they resemble a much larger being than the twig-like lower legs of air-filled bone easily lifted and tucked inside her body when air and space call her home.
Home for her is not the nest where she temporarily raises her young, and home is not the earth she kneels upon, precious though it may be.
Home is not a circle, a burdensome line holding her within its fragile shell.
She was born that way, cramped tightly into a hard shell she pressed against, expanding until it cracked...first a bit, then a tiny hole poked through by her sharp little beak and she tilted her head as much as possible though it was hard to do in that tiny space of before-birth, and she held one eye near the hole and saw the entire world and--CRACK!--she broke free from her shell of protection after she saw the world that awaited her with all its colors and textures and beckoning wide open spaces!
Her body damp, her feathers barely there, wet and clinging, she fell forth into the dry crackling nest with the thin layer of down, and immediately felt her skin begin to dry from the air that called to her, tickling, enticing, telling her stories of the sights she would soon see on her own.
For her nest is not home, only a place to rest and become a real being she had only dreamed about.
She tipped back her head on the thin scrap of skin called a neck and opened her mouth and sounded out, sending her voice out into the world upon the breeze and heard an answering call.
Quick as the wind blows, she ate and grew and took such joy in the feathers that would soon lift her up to home where she would never be confined again.
Where she could soar and see and live fully free.
And yet.
She did not forget.
So in gratitude she returns to the earth to kiss her grounding where she shall go when death steps in and calls her soul to return for a new beginning.
Earth where her food comes from.
Earth that holds the water to bathe in and soothe a parched throat.
Earth that offers her a never-ending visual extravaganza of ever-changing scenery and seasons.
She glides through a thick gray cloud and giggles with the momentary hide-n-seek of the elementals.
Then catches a current and bobs up and down, riding it like the dolphins below play upon the ocean waves.
They talk and share and she knows there is less difference than one might think between her blue and theirs...the waters of the seas and the currents of the breeze.
Patterns and currents and flows and eddies.
One so light and the other so heavy, yet she sometimes gets to play with both when the mist is on the mountain, and the world she sees becomes a subtle mirage of the normal one, the trees try to disappear as if to play her game of hide-n-seek even though they are rooted to earth.
Then she gets to seek her special resting place for it is now disguised and not easily seen from her flights on high, and they play in this world where home is different for all of them.
Yet earth is precious, nurturing, nourishing, welcoming, harboring, and transformative in the end.
And so she kneels to kiss the earth.
___________________________
This was a visual writing prompt from my We'Moon 2011 iPad app (image above).

Inspiration

2011-12-18T17:03:00.001-05:00

"Writing continues to be a scary proposition for me, as I don't see myself as particularly talented and I wonder how much longer I'l be able to massage novels out of my meager storehouse of gifts. Daily, I show up at the computer, and I hope for the best. But when I'm reading someone's stunning first novel--like Cold Mountain or Ingenious Pain, a British first novel that I'm reading--I think, What am I doing? My God, I am so insignificant a storyteller in comparison with these guys. But then I tell myself that all I can do is my best, telling the story as well as I can, leaving the rest up to God.
Journal of a Novel, February 24, 1998"

The above is taken from Elizabeth George's Write Away and I find it inspiring to know that authors I enjoy and admire could have at some moment felt as inept as I do. Their confidence can feel intimidating, but when they share their own fears or insecurities, I realize we are each of us merely doing the best that we can. And doing our best--being our best--is enough.

As I finish reading Write Away, the last 'teaching' book for now, I prepare to dive fully once more, with as much courage, confidence and commitment as I can muster, into writing. And see what happens...

Thanks to Dad

2011-12-16T20:59:00.004-05:00

On one of the last trips my parents made to visit us in Maine, Dad talked about this great BBC show called "New Tricks" and kept singing the theme song. I only caught a couple episodes in Maine but once we arrived in Arizona, they've been showing them on PBS so I've been able to watch nearly all of them. They really are great, and the song spins 'round in my head sometimes for hours afterwards, and every time I watch, I think of Dad and am grateful for the times we spent together.

Mom and Dad were big believers in staying active; they kept traveling and learning and enjoying life. Three years after losing Dad, Mom does her best to keep on keepin' on.

The lyrics to the tune:

it’s alright it’s ok

doesn’t really matter if you’re old and grey

it’s alright i say it’s ok

listen to what i say

it’s alright doing fine

doesn’t really matter if the sun don’t shine

it’s alright i say it’s ok

we're getting to the end of the day

high-tech, low-tech take your pick

cos you can teach an old dog a brand new trick

i don’t care what anybody says

(at the end of the day)

there’s a place that i can find

a drink or two to ease my mind

golden days

it’s alright take your time

everybody thinks that you’ve passed your prime

it’s alright it’s ok

you've still got plenty to say

In Loving Memory of My Father

Jerry Ervin Graves

May 25, 1936 - August 9, 2008

His form is gone but his essence lives on.

New Words

2011-12-13T18:12:00.004-05:00

Just gotta say...

If you would like to increase your vocabulary, look no further than Elizabeth George's books in the Inspector Lynley series! I consider myself well-read and, yet, for the first time I can recall there is nearly one word per chapter that I have to find in the dictionary before I can continue. Thankfully, I started reading this series on my iPad so it is simple to just tap the word and it pulls up the definition. Phew.

One of the reasons that I ventured into Elizabeth George's series was because I had begun reading her guide to fiction writing--Write Away--and, feeling deeply drawn to it right off, realized that I needed to connect to her fiction as well. This hasn't happened for me with most of the 'guide' books I've read this past year. What was different about this one?

Just now I went back and re-read the first few pages and there isn't any single sentence or phrase that captures me. So what is it? Maybe it's because she starts by discussing character? That could be it. Certainly, I feel like my own writing is more character-driven than anything else, with even the location personified in my mind. Ms. George then gives attention to setting followed by landscape. Hmm. Only then does she address plot.

Ah-ha! That's the kinship I feel with her writing process. My first draft is primarily characters, setting and landscape! The plot felt forced from inception and easily fell to pieces when picked at. That led me to my current immersion in the study of craft which easily and repeatedly clarified what was missing--conflict. So I essentially have a first draft set in a place I love and filled with characters I find interesting, but missing the driving force. LOL But you know what? I feel okay about that because I'm not done! I've now made good progress toward resolving the problems. Let the revisions and rewrites begin...

The Window

2011-12-12T13:56:00.000-05:00

What do you see?

I see strength and courage and beauty.

I see color and texture, grounding and whimsy.

Travel provides opportunity.

To step out of one's comfort zone, to expand and grow.

To regain confidence and a sense of self--of individuality lost and found.

We discover a core strength,

a mineral gleaming with endurance,

a gem of unbelievable power that sustains our foundation.

Enjoy the journey.

Non-Linear

2011-12-09T14:39:00.004-05:00

Crooked narrow streets, walls of rock built to hold back the falling, sliding elements on one side, and drop-offs beyond rickety guardrails or fencing or nothing on the other.
Flat upon the ground, erupting from the center, the roots grow upward rather than down and in, the spreading paths of homes tracing a steep journey up, climbing, as if to place themselves in some way beyond the reach of the dragging darkness beneath the historic mining town of Bisbee.
Incongruity of poured concrete steps against the gorgeous stone walls built by hand--artisans, craftsmen, who knew how to create beautiful strength without mortar.
Corrugated tin roofs reflecting the bright sun to catch the vivid colors of little houses determined to cling to the sides of the mountains.
A car snakes its way down the street below, tires a loud whisper upon the worn mix of gravel, deteriorating concrete, and dirt that has escaped down the mountain in spite of the best efforts of man.
A curious town. Lots of character just oozing ambience and history.
Old, weathered buildings, poorly constructed with materials it must have been a struggle to lug up the steep slant of earth and rock.

Colorful houses making a statement of presence and a sort of willfulness rising from them like incense.

Seems most residents just keep slapping on a patch here, bit of paint there, shore it up here...

Structural challenges, a complex interweaving of utilities and plumbing performs its own dance of decoration on the outside where gravity is first defied and then given free rein.

Newer retaining walls are obvious in their concrete block coats, wearing less personality, yet sometimes spiffed up with brick or stone edging or glass inlay.

Here the bottoms of bottles are popular as decoration and show their thick green and blue bottoms.
A little garden, variety the key with cactus and silver-weed, vines and twisty-limbed trees who aren't tall but make up for it with individuality.
Quirky. High up, nearly to the top, peace and quiet float on the dust motes.
Tiny porch, tiny yard; a tiny house on a hill filled with bright color and sassy bric-a-brac.
A sunny corner holds a lounge chair; the perfect comfy-cozy spot indoors for reading and writing, although outside was better.
A faint odor like burnt coffee drifted up on the air currents regularly; what could it be? My nose would twitch and wrinkle... Way up here, just a quaint and curious puzzle.*

A walk up and down the winding streets delivers new sensations around every corner...
Discomfort rises, I feel my stomach tighten, and it's not just from the steep incline. I recognize my fear as I hear strange dogs bark nearby; our recent attack a few weeks ago still fresh in my memory. Yet the boys don't seem any more bothered by it than from a person walking near.
The buildings old, some dark and forbidding, their frowns warning me that I am not welcome and I don't step into their shadowy alcoves.
Others have painted and primped their faces, giving a come-hither look, beckoning me closer...

A 'secret garden' is where I sit, sun shining, and voices echo back and forth from the mountains, softly bouncing voices and sounds of dogs, people, a rooster crowing, buildings and machinery. 'Voices' of the world in miniature, crowded closely.

Like a child's playground, all the colors and shapes! The textures so varied, like a microcosm filled with diversity as if to compensate for the stricture of the narrow canyon, bursting out at the seams, packing maximum 'bang' into the space allowed.
Porches and decks stick out all over, jutting their chins in defiance.
A concrete park painted with colorful games; an alternative to the barren, rugged earth stripped not only by the mines nearby but also by Gaia Herself as She explored a new landscape, a new and unique way of experiencing Herself in life.

Everywhere is curves, angles, corners and pockets--not sure there is such a thing as a straight line in this wonderful little town. Here is presented a delightful display of non-linear response to all that life has thrown at the people who chose and still choose to make this place their home. A visual imprint of non-control, the ability to adapt.

________________________
Prior to making this trip, I read "Going Back To Bisbee" by Richard Shelton. It was a wonderful way to learn a little about the history of the Arizona Southwest so that as I drove the landscape and towns were given meaning other than through my own perception of them.

I only stayed two nights at the Sleepy Dog Guesthouse (which I highly recommend!) but plan on returning for a longer stay and more exploration.

__________
* A Google search revealed the origin of the aroma was indeed coffee from the Bisbee Coffee Co. where they roast the beans fresh on the premises.

tween shadow and wall

2011-12-02T22:38:00.001-05:00

In the thin line tween shadow and wall
is found true adventure, whispering small
voices we hear in the night
and listen to with heart open, not out of fright.
The line that is there is no line at all
only illusion that causes a fall
from the opening measures
of this moment's place in time
and with flowers of grace
and hearing the chimes
I see the line fade...
Not dividing shadow from wall
but merging the two in one joyous call
to be strong and loving and share all
your gifts without fear of transgressing.
All obstacles lift high
on the wings of the nowhere of time
that like the no-line are fashioned
from fear and treated as crime.
Look at that edge,
feel its wisdom of knowing
that there are no divisions
tween darkness and light
but only our own situations of what might
be or have been as we travel
the line without and within.
Seeking the knowledge of magical line
that vanishes whenever we seek outward to find
ourselves in the middle of two that are fighting
yet know that our candle of love we could be lighting.
Nowhere is this more blatantly true
than within the heart struggle of ego and you.
Look, see the edges that blur
when we look more closely to see
them and then after that are the spaces unseen.
The line between the wall and the shadow
is nothing more than perception
betrayed by the false mind of ego
who is leading the way
because we allowed him the power
but we can retrieve him upon each new hour
and take into custody all his transgressions
to build up a new world of loving and blessings.
My finger it follows the mystical line
wondering what other secrets I might find.
Me, hovering close to the wall that can speak,
whispering words I barely can hear
until shadow steps in and covers my fear
with a blanket of darkness that falls
with the growing light,
removing the edge I no longer can see
dividing us--it is here no more--we are free.
___________________________________
It's been a while since I felt the flow of a rhyming that trickles through pen with impeccable timing. I know not the reason when or why my head turns to words that follow each other with similar sounds and falling to pages awaiting the swirl and flow of the messages within each letter that whirls. I love how words rhyme, I always have, even though 'real' poets sneer at their simplicity and sometimes awkward chunkiness, like crunchy peanut butter, not smooth. Maybe so, but I love the flow, the sound of echo...

Grateful for What is Not

2011-11-24T15:24:00.000-05:00

Thirty spokes are made one by holes in a hub

By vacancies joining them for a wheel's use;

The use of clay in moulding pitchers

Comes from the hollow of its absence;

Doors, windows, in a house,

Are used for their emptiness:

Thus we are helped by what is not

To use what is.

~ Tao Te Ching according to Lao Tzu by Witter Bynner

Flares

2011-11-21T17:30:00.000-05:00

Explosion.
Blow-up.
Outburst.
Anger.
Where does it come from?
Where does it go?

Seems like those thankfully-rare flares are so much more than related to the one incident.
Not a single match by itself, oh no, they are the spark that flies into the open and full matchbox or into the pile of twigs with dry tinder holding their breath for that 'inciting incident'* that is the fire that flies off the handle once sparked.
Weird how that happens...

Swallowing down unlit matches--not as brave as those who swallow lit torches at a carnival--one at a time, here and there, until they are all gummed together with the gasoline of stomach acids in the subtle body and--WHOOSH!--up goes the fire, the conflagration that overwhelms and scalds and burns so fast.
Flaring up before one can even stop it, consuming and exhausting in an instant. The slow burn at the beginning that smolders beneath the wet leaves in a loving aversion to confrontation.

What good is that when the burn becomes the forest fire scorching or destroying everything it is path? Ugh.

And then comes the remorse, the awareness and shame that shimmers in its own orange bowl of bubbling brew fit only for pouring out where it poisons the ground beneath it. Not fit for consumption, yet sometimes we do--we take it in and bury it deep in our tissues. Nasty stuff, congealing in its own thickening lard after all that heat. Yuck.

Even now, though, it can be released safely because warmth can bring healing as well, the gentle warmth of a candle glowing within a heart of forgiveness in a house with many windows thrown open to bring in fresh air of new beginnings. Gentle simmering melts the shame. Or compassionate waters, salty and purifying, can pour into the bowl mingling with the thick oil, thinning it, further, more and more until it can flow easily into a non-harmful juice to be transformed.

Yet perhaps important to taste the orange goo of anger's residue before pouring it out or transforming it. Don't ignore it just because it's ugly and smells like rotten eggs or month-old garbage left out in the summer sun. Take a good look, even admire the color if you can for what it represents, for what was behind it, for what it brought to light--that golden light of the healing heart that can transform all into love. Inhale deeply of the burnt flesh, decaying, until it makes us gag so we don't forget it. I still recall a phrase from an old TV series: "stop and smell the burning flesh of sinners" (can't remember the context or the show but the phrase stuck). Grotesque? But if I don't stop and smell of my angered ego's charred flesh, how can I make changes? How can I make the salve that will heal? Without looking at the mess, how do I know where to place that lovely creamy salve?

To reflect upon the anger--no matter what other words I may use to try and disguise it or defend it--is to see, smell, taste, touch and eventually know Truth. And then, only then, can I continue to move more fully forward with compassion toward Self, and, therefore, toward others.
__________________
* read that word combination inVicki's blog earlier this morning

waiting not

2011-11-15T14:20:00.004-05:00

infinity
never ending
life

catch a falling star and become one myself
worms crawl in and out yet all life continues
anything is possible

no point to fret over what we cannot control and cannot see--
I cannot see what lies behind the mind and actions of others,
all I see are my non-senses and perceptions
react and respond ... act

Take action in my own life instead of just waiting for what I think someone else ought to do--I could wait forever, spend my life waiting instead of acting with joy in each moment. This moment--what is it and what does it bring--what do I bring to it? Sunshine, dogs, chair, quiet, writing, walking, singing, healing, meditating, preparing food, honoring self and others. Kiss my loves. Love my life. All will be as it should. Yes?

Sun warming my back as I sit facing my shadow. Sun hat shading the page so I can see and the heat penetrating my cold spine, warming its stiffness into softness; like a flame warms the oil I feel the juices of my vertebrae, loosening, becoming more fluid allowing freer movement within self. Thick molasses becomes a syrup flowing easily from the heat and as other liquids join in, all flowing the same direction for now, dark and light together, sweet and bitter co-mingling, their perfect blend a blessing. Blending within, I feel the softening deepen and soak up the balance, the wisdom of accepting differences.

Blessings of change to open my heart to see moments of peace.

Not waiting, rather embracing living, being here and welcoming the tickle of the breeze on bare toes warming in the sunshine. See the white miniscule flaking of skin on the high arch of a foot that shimmers like silk stockings in the sunlight a surface that sheds and grows moment by moment, always changing. Light blue veins tracing patterns of life allowing movement. Action. Wiggle those same toes and feel the blessing of knowing they can follow a path from chair to porch. They act. They twitch and bend. They aren't waiting, they are doing whatever they can right now, even as I sit.

Dogs watching the gates, one over to that side and one here, fully present, they observe the actions going on around them--see a car drive past, watch the bird in the tree then fly away, listen to the neighborhood dogs bark without their people home. Are they learning who those other dogs are? Listen and respond. Reaction or action. No thought but inner-intelligence acting senses. See and walk, toward or away. Halt, tilt head. Listen again.

A whole world exists in this single moment--no need to wait for the next one. Even in silence of self, so much going on elsewhere--choose to act or remain still.

Being here now,

we are not waiting.

We are living.

purple heart

2011-11-10T15:14:00.003-05:00

resting upon the ground
her purple heart exposed
to the elements
she feels the frost settle upon her skin,
edges dusted with fine crystals
she is decorated for the holidays
sparkling even in her death
her transformation beautiful to behold
as she rests
at ease in the moment

crystalline tears fall upon the ground
mingling with the frost
some are salty
some are pure energy
shimmering in wholeness
alive within self and
sharing all that is

she senses this approach
of a kindred soul
one who sees as she does
and her waiting is rewarded
she feels the eyes upon her
knowing her fragility
for they share a similar fate
a gift
of change
a shift
into something else

the eyes are kind
a-glimmer
with reflective tears of knowing and wonder
for they see the beauty
the miracle
that is life and death--
death of the way things were
letting go of the way she clung to the branches of her tree
of wanting to drift upon the wind and descend to the unknown
yet time passes and she realizes that her time has come to let go
so many have gone before her and they call out sweet encouragement
and then...
she sighs as she falls
no wind so she simply see-saws to the ground
even twirling a little on her journey
to enjoy the passage from one life to another
and gently lands upon the earth

she has never known anything so solid before!

she has always been up high
caressed by breezes
seeing far in the distance
held by a single thread of life force
channeling from her to her family tree
a delicate tendril connecting them intimately

yet this new sensation is nice...
she feels safe and supported
she relaxes upon the ground so firm and
feels a full wave of vibration touch her everywhere all at once
unlike her other life of constant motion
where she was touched with sparks and
quickly passing fingers of flight and fancy
twirling her this way and that
always dancing

this is a glow of peace that permeates
her entire being whole and full
she sighs upon her soft bed of grass and moss and humus
she knows the transformation is coming
she can feel it continuing to spread
throughout her veins
her nerves
fleeting thoughts and misty memories
weave their way along her edges
beneath the frosty embroidery

was it yesterday or tomorrow that she let go?
she now realizes all time as happening now
in the presence of her gentle rest
the release of flying high
dancing among the stars when she looked up
or on the flowers below
when was that?
is it to come or already passed?

she sighs and shimmers in the dawn
happy and ease in her crystal veil
______________

* The above was a contemplative free-write inspired by some images posted on Shine the Divine's blog; one of Laura's posts held an image of a purple leaf and was titled Frost Sugared, while the other held an image of a leaf with a heart in its center titled Keeper of Sacred Memory. In my mind, these images merged, and I was led to the composite in discovery of the story. I couldn't fine a purple heart frosted leaf photo though!

merry go round

2011-11-08T13:13:00.003-05:00

merry go round in a field of flowers
awaiting the children who come
in the daylight hours
and at night
when the wind whistles
all the horses on carousel
round and round we go
this life of beautiful illusion
invites us to get on board and
ride the magic
and we do
joy is in knowing the illusion
participating in awareness
partake of the colors and lights
sounds and sights
but get off when it pauses
and treat ourselves
to the peace of sitting on the bench
and watching the laughter of the children
who are innocents
but growing egos
and it becomes more than a game
more than simple joy
fighting over who is next and shoving in line
and then limited seats
on the painted ponies losing their shine
and someone says
'I will build my own'
until there are no more green spaces
or vast plains or high desert pastures
only whirling colors and rides
and lights and noise
and still there are never enough seats
on the merry go round
then give me the quiet bench
in the corner under the shade tree
or the sparkling brook where we are nourished
happy to get on the merry go round
ride a short while
and then relinquish my seat to another
and another
and look at how happy they are at first
squealing in joy
the short adrenaline rush
where the pony goes up and then down
we clutch the pole so we won't fall off
wanting to get off on our own
step down without falling but
sometimes dizzy from the motion
we stumble or fall in spite of our best efforts
pick ourselves up, rest, take a break
then choose when/if it's right for us to get on again
some go every day, or every weekend
others wait for the annual event
that draws them out of their comfort zone
to explore the glitter and glamor of the world
'lights--camera--action'
and hold on as long as they can
bullies don't let the younger children ride
holding onto their seats
struggling against those who say
'you've had your turn'
and crying
'it wasn't long enough' or
'I want more'
really?
we are each deserving of enjoying the spectacular
if we want to participate
yet some never get to ride
they have neither money nor status to buy a ticket
but the wise, oh the wise... pause...
swing from the branches of trees bending low
and run through fields of wild flowers
jump-splashing in and out of puddles
making mud-pies and

pretending they are wild horses
mustangs roaming the wide open plains
you can have your merry go round
if it means that much to you
I will walk along the road gazing at the sky
feeling the cool breeze
eating a blush-pink apple
feeling the strength of muscles
that must carry me the distance
however far that is...
to the corner of my bedroom or
to the top of the mountain
I would rather ride a real horse once
than a carousel horse forever
_______________
"merry go round" was a writing prompt from Peggy Tabor Millin ClarityWorks

DogGone Dreams

2011-11-07T13:19:00.000-05:00

Surrounded by love--friends--they are snuggled up to me, each one near enough to smell and touch and hug, they all came to be with me last night, dogs of the past, beloveds who walked with me a while and shared their loving presence.
They joined me in a cabin on a spiritual retreat and we all crowded together.
Trust. A lesson in trust and letting go, knowing they had been with me before, I didn't hold on so tightly. Well, I did at first, fear coursing through me that others wouldn't value them the way that I did, but we were all fine.
Given their freedom, some of them came even closer to me in my dream than they did in life. We were all cuddled and loving each other, and I felt myself letting go and the love swelled, filling the space.
Attending the classes at the retreat, spirit flowed. New teachers, human ones, new friends of presence, human ones, all of us there to open, learn, grow, heal. Sangha. Gathering of like-minded, or rather like-hearted, beings. We were all together.
I was so happy that those who had gone before joined me, such a comfort and a renewal. I didn't know I needed them--missed them--until they came for a visit and my heart overflowed with love.
Each precious soul...I have been blessed every step of my journey, always a dear furred friend nearby for solace. Deep gratitude and love, I feel. Waking to renewal and loving peace, even my body felt lighter from their visit.
Never alone and all are One--all of our energies always connected. When I touch one, I am touching them all and feeling their love. When I see the sky, they are there, soaring, drifting, and we are together, we breathe together. I see the earth and their footprints are next to mine.
Their lessons are already learned, they are here to teach and share loving support, to be here and help me/us. We humans have so far to go, having lost our way, but they can bring us back for they are the hands/paws of Gaia, touching us as we touch them, hearts beating in love, and eyes shining with faith--always.
They trust we will 'get it' if they are patient...may take many lifetimes, theirs and ours. Theirs shorter as they pop in and out like firefly lights, dying and letting go--some of our hardest lessons. When we finally realize that this life is perfect, however long we have, then we are in harmony with them, our animal guides.
They rejoice when we embrace the present, knowing it as all. Glimpses have I of this each time I write or create in some small way or when I walk or stand or pause in Gaia's glory. Then I am touched by this wisdom, just as I am touched by a gentle paw upon my leg or a delicate chin upon my shoulder.
Even when I feel pain, I am alive in this world and know it, experience it more fully--to feel pain is also to be present, to be brought back to the present from where mind or ego has taken me so far away. They don't dwell upon the pain or disability, can I do/be less?
This is their gift, the gift of animal-kind--I can be only here and now when these precious beings hold me in their attention and I hold them in mine. We share this gift beyond measure.
Deep gratitude for last night's dreams of dogs long gone--DogGone Dreams.
_____________
Such beautiful, loving energy from the strong protector, the loving goof, the elegant and gentle, the loud and boisterous, the sweet and simple... Bringing blessings, always blessings...

now we rest

2011-10-31T17:39:00.000-04:00

Now that all my 'friends' are finally out of their boxes . . .

the rest of us can relax,

and curl up . . .

with a good book!

dark as coffee

2011-10-27T13:56:00.000-04:00

Her skin was dark as coffee.
She sat across the way,
smiling with a serene glow that seemed to emanate
from somewhere unknown,
and her graceful limbs were relaxed, calm.
From one moment to the next,
I see her shimmer--
black Madonna,
Mesquite tree,
old bark as dark as coffee.
Some would say there is no glow,
they see only rough, dry, scaly trunk,
yet shift perception and
see the light from within for it is always there,
the energy of Life that permeates everything around us,
each element portraying its own essence
shining through large or small.
See
the earth in Her feet, legs and torso, sturdy and obvious,
the water She retains deep within that we can see by way
of Her leafy green hair, slender to minimize evaporation,
the fire in Her warm skin and limbs,
the transformation of sunlight and Her vitality
even in the hottest summer when She conserves resources,
the air as She breathes and sways,
Her movement a dance as She grows and fills the space around Her.
Dark as coffee, she is chosen by the artist to create a tiny divine figure
polished to a mahogany hue,
the gentle curves become a woman,
Her spirit shining through
as the carver brings an image into form...Blessed Mother.
She is holding the key to compassion
that unlocks the door during the dark night of the soul.
A dark night that may be a fleeting moment or a lifetime
or are they one and the same?
Who can know for sure within this illusory life we seem to live
yet so much happens that we do not understand,
our senses limit us within their reach and
we can only guess through imagination and inner vision of Her Truth.
Ebony and ivory, living side by side and peace formed
through a symphony of rhythm and song
that reaches beyond the limits of time and space.
Our world orchestrated through our energies coming and going
or pausing to listen when another is singing.
Our world an incredible vibration of Life that soars and falls,
flows and builds, transforms in immeasurable diversity.
I am one and we are One.
Same.
Feeling the sadness of unknown origin flow through me
without getting stuck because I see it,
I feel the sticky fingers like a tree frog wanting to cling
to the sides of the twisted tree that grows to survive
yet allowing it to jump away--not stay--and then its life resumes
and the twisted limbs become beautiful in their shapes of survival
rather than frightened into a quagmire into which they could have fallen.
The tree frog, out of its natural element,
flies through the air for a moment without wings
and glories in his freedom to sit in the sun on the rock,
transforming into a lizard, basking, glowing,
while the Mesquite nearby rests,
crossing Her arms in a posture of peace,
gleaming with inner wisdom,
sharing shade in outer compassion,
Her bark as dark as coffee.
_________
This was another writing prompt provided by Peggy Tabor Millin, ClarityWorks.

Sedona and Grand Canyon

2011-10-20T11:11:00.002-04:00

If you want to see more of our trip, there is a video HERE.

However, patience will be needed to allow the video to load;

I recommend the 'small' version.

The music is the incredible R. Carlos Nakai.

Revealing Self

2011-10-14T19:39:00.001-04:00

I'm spending so much of my spare time these days writing, reading, and reading about writing that none of it is getting transferred to this blog. Whoops. I guess part of it is that I'm excited to finally have more spare time now that most of our big projects at the new house are completed. That said, I do also read my favorite blogs--the ones noted off to the left of this page--even going so far as to back up and read those entries I may have missed. Don't want to skip something important!

Now for what I've been up to since my last blog post...

I've joined the little local library's book club that meets once a month. Our first meeting was about "The Glass Castle," a memoir by Jeannette Walls. While several other women in the club disliked the book, unable to see past the child neglect, I thought it was a wonderful read even if the story was disturbing at times. I couldn't condemn Jeannette's mother because I connected with her; in fact, almost felt a kinship with her. But our discussion about this book was lively and thoroughly enjoyable. I was so pleased to have found this group. The next month's book was "The Lace Reader" by Brunonia Barry. This one I had read shortly after it was released in paperback because a friend recommended it, and I loved it. I was shocked when not a single other person in the book club even liked it, let alone enjoyed it as much as I did. But I laughed and again the hour-long discussion passed quickly with everyone making comments. I look forward to our next meeting!

As I've continued reading books on writing, following are a few of the remarks that stood out for me.

"Description begins in the writer's imagination, but should finish in the reader's."

Stephen King in "On Writing, a Memoir of the Craft" is a proponent for leaving out most of the specifics of a character's appearance. This does seem to be a delicate balancing act, although also a subjective topic. I have read quite a lot of King's books (like most of his readers, my favorite is "The Stand") and enjoyed them at the time, but I have eclectic taste when it comes to fiction so I have also enjoyed works where the author painted a very clear and concise picture of the major characters. I'm not sure where my own descriptions will fall.

"If you jump back and forth from deep inside a character's head to a far-distant overview of the action, then back in close . . . The smoothness of your narrative will be compromised. One way around this is to start chapters with the more distant narrative you want to include, then move in closer into the character's mind and stay there."

I appreciated all the comments on viewpoint in "Characters, Emotion & Viewpoint" by Nancy Kress, especially about third person as that seems to be the viewpoint I prefer, both for reading and in my own writing. I now have lots of ideas and exercises that may help improve my manuscript once I begin the self-editing process.

"Self-consciousness is the enemy of all art . . . "

Wow, this one struck a nerve. Actually, Ray Bradbury in "Zen in the Art of Writing" had all my nerves humming!

"What do you think of the world? You, the prism, measure the light of the world; it burns through your mind to throw a different spectroscopic reading onto white paper than anyone else anywhere can throw."

Quite inspiring, yes? I may have to print that quote out in BIG letters and tack it to the wall in front of my computer. "Zen" is a fabulous little book.

"The project I'm preparing will have personal relevance . . . . It will be a process of self-discovery. I can't imagine spending a year or more on a novel and not emerging from it with greater self-awareness than when I began. That way, even if the project doesn't attract a publisher, my time has been well spent."

Perfect. These words written by David Morrell in "Lessons From a Lifetime of Writing" were like a bonfire blazing in the night, leading me to my Self. The manuscript I'm working on began as something fun; now I can clearly see how it can be more. All the ideas that have been flooding my heart and soul since I set the manuscript aside have become a tidal wave; I am enjoying the rush, the excitement renewed, and I will sort out everything as I go along.

"People, events, or our own negative thought patterns can threaten our faith and drive it underground unless we remain aware and alert. Protecting our faith in ourselves requires vigilance in the present moment because that is where faith exists. If we stand on faith and project into the future, we move from faith to hope, from attention in the present to expectation for the future."

I will be turning to Peggy Tabor Millin's book "Women, Writing, and Soul-Making" repeatedly, I am sure. Her words touched me on many levels, and I know that I will resonate with the spirit of her messages each time I open her book.

"When we reveal ourselves through our writing and do not turn away, we connect with the reader and impact lives."

This statement by Millin reminded me of Bradbury's "self-consciousness is the enemy." Even when blogging, I find that the posts that seem to touch readers the most are ones where I had completely stepped aside from controlling what I was writing.

Lastly, has anyone ever read Natalie Goldberg's "Writing Down the Bones" who didn't like it? I cannot imagine that is possible. What a gem. I had to give up putting tabs on phrases that grabbed me because the edge of the book was becoming a mess!

However, I did want to comment on her chapter titled 'We Are Not the Poem.' So many times, I have wondered if someone reading my journals from my 20's and 30's might think I was certifiable, destined for the loony bin, suicidal, delusional, or had lived an awful life. Even this past week, I wrote two very different writing practice entries; one from a writing prompt of Millin's called 'a golden curl' and the other a stream of consciousness flow called 'illusion of safety.' Every writing expresses a unique moment of sensation or emotion. Goldberg says:

"They were my thoughts and my hand and the space and the emotions at that time of writing. Watch yourself. Every minute we change. It is a great opportunity. At any point, we can step out of our frozen selves and our ideas and begin fresh. That is how writing is. Instead of freezing us, it frees us."

Fog

2011-09-29T22:21:00.001-04:00

‎"Writing is the act of burning through the fog in your mind.

Don't carry the fog out on paper.

Even if you are not sure of something, express it as though you know yourself.

With this practice you eventually will."

~ Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones

Writing Prompt: "taking out the trash"

2011-09-21T16:01:00.005-04:00

Looked across the way when
taking out the trash and
saw silence
felt a darkness
in the windows of the house next door
where drawn curtains and smudged glass
hid more than they revealed
carefully crafted so that Light could neither escape or enter.

A wail rose in my throat
for the poor defenseless beings inside
where the trash never left but
grew and grew
becoming huge piles of refuse that
molded and mildewed and
stank up the confined space.

Dark
the mushrooms grew
not the magic ones of
childhood and forest and fairy circle but
those that poison and contaminate and
kill off all the Fire even when it tries to rise and shine.

Don't allow the crap to consume
to build up
to accumulate.
If no routine for taking out the trash then
create one--
take it to the dump
or put it out by one handful each day
for Mother Earth to transform.

Not everyone is able to use a curb-side service
convenient though it is
for not everyone has reached that stage
and even then
sometimes too much is thrown out
good ideas with the bad
happy memories with the traumatic
because it's so easy.
Who wants to pick through the trash to find
what needs to stay or go?
Asking...
Maybe if I just toss it all then
my house will be clean?
Perhaps.
But then there is nothing to transform with/in
all the elements are mashed together like in a trash compactor and
so tightly bound that we lose sight of
the True Me
for even the icky, sticky, gooey bits might be important--
salvageable
recyclable.
Can I re-use this hurt?
Can I learn from it and then share the lesson with someone else?
How can the trash become gold?

"One person's trash is another person's treasure."

So might it be with all this supposed
so-called 'trash'
that has piled up inside.
How to sift through it all?

Look at the house next door...
not next door at all but
the mirror of my own home.
A reflection I stare at but
don't want to see because
who wants to look at the trash and
crap and stinking piles of refuse
that has accumulated?

Bring out a bull-dozer and just push it all into
one huge mountain of crumbling, thick, globs of
manure and decomposition but
that way none of it can be used again and
it's all gone and stagnating and
pushed down deep
buried so far under the foundation
that excavating could take years
lifetimes even.

Okay.
Before throwing it in the trash
at least before taking out the trash
look, think, feel it out.
Can it be transformed
learned from
reused
shared
and ultimately
put to good use
for a
truly clean house?
___________________________
This writing prompt is a daily one compliments of Peggy Tabor Millin's Clarity Works. The day before this prompt, I had been contemplating and organizing my plans for offering holistic classes through the local wellness center in our new location; how to share, how to help, how to connect. I had fun with this particular day's writing practice where the words flowed so fast my pen could barely keep up, and provided so many ideas for sharing.

Being Begin

2011-08-19T11:44:00.002-04:00

plucked from the ether and
dropped to the earth
to enjoy the blessings
of precious rebirth
land on a soft bed of moss evergreen
while the wee folk cavort--merry, unseen
I land with a feather-light bump on Her belly
and know from the first that we all will be well
captured by ravens that caw in the trees
carried on wings that fly with the breeze
soaring over desert and scaling the mountains
to race with the dolphins and splash in the fountains
we are all One in this glorious world
ever creature that lives, every boy, every girl
jumping and shouting
my heart full to the brim
while adventures are calling
me out on a whim
I join with the air as we sway to and fro
among all the flowers that shimmer and glow
I join with the fire as the sun heats the sand
and cook with the flames that are guided by hand
I join with the waters of vital resources
that lovingly share without guilt or remorse
I join with the earth in magnificent splendor
while walking or sitting in stillness...I wonder
where upon all of these joys do I pause
and how to give thanks beyond all the causes
of heartache we bring to the innocents here
how do I help and wipe away tears
of harm that have fallen through arrogant minds
that see not and know not through eyes that are blind
all I can do is embrace Her wonders
of life and love and beauteous thunder
that crashes in storms amazing in power
Her strength that reduces our egos in each passing hour
we cannot come close to the glory She gives
in all that Creation has brought here to live
even destruction is a need to transform
and step back, I see Her love in this normal
pattern of shifting, cleansing, renewal
She is our home and we are her fuel
we are a nutrient
energies sent
to give of ourselves so that more may flourish
that is our calling to love and to nourish
each one of us has a capacity clear
to share and grow with all far and near
listen to what Her voice is now saying
cannot we hear the path She is laying
before us strewn with emeralds,
diamonds and stone
for all are as equals
none are alone
I feel her this morning singing within
and laughing with me as I write with pink pen
to script what I hear falling rapidly down
to catch just a glimpse of what may be found
here on this paper a gift from the trees
who harness the breath for all of our needs
reflected within
being begin

Changing Smile

2011-08-16T13:38:00.001-04:00

Road Trip.
My 'fix.'
Journey to the pines, the mountains, hours away.
Changing tapestry leads me on further and further; I could have continued for days.
Expanding vistas above and below, desert cactus giving way to grassy meadows in the high plains, as sharp sun eases into a pillow of clouds where at one point they create a rectangle around pale blue sky, like cotton balls stuck to an invisible frame of unknown origin.
And I drive.
Ahhh...
The pure bliss of motion and transforming landscape, windows down once the heat begins to abate, and I breathe in the enriched air of beloved pine boughs glistening and inviting
There.
Stop.

Barely planned, a spur-of-the-moment trip, clothes inadequate for traipsing through a narrow trail with tall weeds and thin grasses and bold branches reaching out to connect and caress my hair.
The boys and I find a rocky outcropping, we sit, blessed moist air inhaled upon a cool breeze, softening lung tissue, easing stress.
Droplets of rain fall upon parched skin.
Listen to Her familiar voice singing through babbling brook and chittering folk hiding from view while a lizard scurries over a near rock before quick doggy eyes glimpse the crouched form.
Green, deep and vibrant, glorious.

The Museum of Northern Arizona grounds--inside and out--are serene, and I enjoy meandering through the exhibits so beautifully presented with loving attention to every detail. I will return when I have more time to leisurely absorb the history, beauty, art and skills shared of the native people of northern Arizona. Their Spirit flows through the lines of thread and paint upon woven blankets and bowls, upon pottery, canvas and mural.

The dogs are waiting in the car parked in a shady spot, comfortable with the more than 30-degree cooler temperature, yet the four-hour drive home beckons in the mid-afternoon overcast with thunder clouds and sporadic rain that falls in clumps like Gaia is dropping it from cupped hands, a little here, more there, and then a pause...wait...before dipping Her hands into the eternally full well of blessings once more.

Odd how much I enjoy long drives when often I can barely get myself down the road to the grocery store until the cupboards are nearly bare. The call of the open road feels deeply ingrained within my very cells and, like a Gypsy, I adore the journey even without a destination ... maybe more when the not knowing where I will stop is pulling me onward.
The unknown mystery of Her changing smile.
What will Gaia be wearing when I get there?

Salt

2011-08-12T11:43:00.001-04:00

She flows through me and winds Her way in the world;
as a stream we touch those who thirst
and feel the hunger of kindred souls.

All I am is a stalk of grass within the Field
that has somehow managed to find that elusive grain of salt,
that tiny nutrient that wasn't far from my roots
yet had less to do with me than with the Whole of Life
enveloping all existence in form.
The salt that was carried within my reach
so I could stretch out and feel its energy
calling to me like a song,
like the vibration of a crystal
tuned to the frequency I needed,
or me tuned to Hers in my unaware need
yet we found each other and I am nourished.
Where do I find the humble essence of knowing
that it is through Her Grace that the perfect amount of salt fell within reach?
Too much can poison yet
Gaia's trickling tears carried the nutrient
toward my yearning lost tendrils
that weakly grew in one direction ... alone.
Did another being join to push and shove,
swallow and release,
the salt within reach?
I received a gift that brings joy and wellness,
one that I say grace for within each moment.
How to share with humility and happiness?
Is my smile genuine in Love?
Do I pause to witness the journey of the one on their own path
and offer them a grain of salt,
the nutrient,
the seed just as it was gifted to me?
I know not why the salt appeared
with its taste so appealing I could not resist
yet once I felt Her song on my tongue
I was carried within the melody
and we flow in harmony
through the winding ways of the world,
nourished together,
by each other,
releasing and opening,
sharing.
Ahhh ... there is it,
the secret--
non-attachment to the salt.
Let it fall from my eye,
from my sweat,
from my heart
and realize that
I do not have to see who tastes it
or know who adds it to their daily bread as I do.

She flows through me and winds Her way in the world;

as a stream we quench those who thirst

and feed the hunger of kindred souls.

Suet Pudding Anyone?

2011-08-11T14:31:00.002-04:00

While settling in to our new house in Arizona, I thought it a good opportunity to start reading some more books on writing during my self-imposed breaks. (I am quite an expert in the art of allowing oneself plenty of breaks from manual labor.) I feel a little bit daunted by all that I have to learn, but also inspired by the encouragement of the authors.

"What is important is not the lucky break, the stopping of the train--that's only part of it. Life is full of trains that stop. What counts is what we are doing with our lives when there is no opportunity and not a train in sight." ~ Phyllis A. Whitney, Guide to Fiction Writing

Ms. Whitney is sharing the above based upon her own experience of hard work and lucky breaks; she emphasizes that we continue to write, to learn, to grow as writers so that when that train stops . . . we can climb aboard.

Every book I've read during the past couple weeks has provided great suggestions on technique, methods from the perspectives of both mistakes and excellent examples.

In How to Write a Damn Good Novel, James Frey offers a chapter on the topic of 'premise' which I thoroughly enjoyed. He mentions Aristotle's "unity of action" and how the ancient writer declares that stories should have "all the organic unity of a living creature." Mr. Frey summarizes that:

"The premise of a story is simply a statement of what happens to the characters as a result of the core conflict in the story."

Reading about the various views of premise, plot, or theme has helped me clarify my first draft of the manuscript on which I'm currently working. I have a lot of rewriting to do, yet I'm excited about it because I can envision a better story.

Also, my first draft contains significant amounts of informational dumping. How to avoid that? I liked Chris Roerden's explanations and examples throughout Don't Sabotage Your Submission and I will be able to remember her "slice, dice and splice" approach. Catchy!

In Plot & Structure by James Scott Bell, his advice is helpful throughout, but I am particularly drawn to his comments regarding another author--David Morrell and Lessons From a Lifetime of Writing (which is now on my wish list). Mr. Bell writes that:

"Morrell's method is geared toward getting deeper into your story idea, finding out why you really want to write it. It's a trip into the subconscious and the place where real writing power resides."

Many of my scenes are total disasters, but at least now I have ideas about how to fix them. Jack Bickham gives clear, straight-forward advice in The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes when he lists a process for deciding, in each scene, the goal, the scene question, opposition to the goal, writing moment-by-moment with summary, and then how to end by answering the scene question badly so that the story continues. And, in The Writer's Digest Guide to Good Writing, Arthur Gordon (1941) offers a simple, specific tip on pace: "Plan each scene of your story as if the scene were a complete story in itself."

Speaking of which, I am finding The Writer's Digest Guide to Good Writing to be a thoroughly delightful read, filled with light-hearted anecdotes and sage advice. Perhaps because it begins with pieces from the 1920's. Like this descriptive paragraph on the "had horrors" from Laurence D'Orsay:

"If a story has strong and well-sustained entertainment value, an editor will overlook many technical flaws. But one thing he will not overlook, as a general rule, is a bad attack of the had horrors--a stodgy lump of bald and undisguised retrospect on the second, third and fourth pages. For that is destructive of entertainment value at the critical moment when, having caught the reader's attention by a good opening, the writer should strive to hold it by going straight ahead along dramatic lines. It is as if the chef offered you a slab of cold and greasy suet pudding after you had polished of the hors d'oeuvres, instead of serving some appetizing and nourishing soup."

BLECH! That image will stick with me, how about you? And, also in that book, Louis Dodge comments we must "say something" because it is not enough to write well yet say nothing:

"A story which says nothing (but does it well) is like a person who is faultlessly clad and good to look at, but who calls and says a few conversational things in a careful manner and goes away leaving an effect of strain. After the advent of such a person, how restful and good it is to welcome the friend who drops in informally and brings a real message of warmth, of positive meaning, of an original point of view. Better a beggar with a real tale of woe than a great diplomat who wears a mask."

Those are the kinds of phrases that will remain with me, helping me along as I turn to rewriting and revising my first draft.

Lastly, I return to another comment by Ms. Whitney because I felt she could have been referring to me specifically, and a problem I find myself falling into when I write:

"The developing of an active purpose for your main character is not easy. Unless I am careful, I frequently find that all sorts of problems--both my heroine's and those of other characters--are latent but not apparent. Or else some other character is working at his problem, while the heroine watches passively, as if she had no problem of her own--in which case she drifts along, just letting things happen to her. When this is the situation, there is no purpose, no 'attempt to resolve' on the part of the main character, and reader interest is likely to lag."

OUCH! At the same time, I felt good knowing that even a prolific writer whose stories I enjoyed so much may have experienced what I do when writing.

All in all, I have to say that I am encouraged to continue my writing journey...

Ripen

2011-08-03T11:17:00.002-04:00

PRICKLY © Chepatchet | Dreamstime.com

Prickly Pear cactus show plump round digits upon the edges of their flat splayed pads like the toes of an ancient Being unable to walk on the earth so making footprints across the sky, the ripening fruit reflecting the shades of the stairway to heaven.
Full red glow across the eastern horizon where clouds hover in the myriad shades of the dawn light awaiting their moment of illumination.
A jack rabbit bounds across the desert with his cute little white tail laughing in our faces--I smile, the dogs' ears prick forward. We keep walking, absorbing the morning as the winds change direction constantly, one minute cooling my cheeks, the next whipping strands of hair into my mouth.
Echoes of past and present merge as I feel a resonance with this space.
Not until I reach home and no longer feel the winds do I realize that the clouds had carried with them a moisture within which to use in the palette and then brush across the sky, painting a moist vision of loveliness that I am unable to recreate or describe adequately in these flowing thoughts that pour out of me so easily, running down the canvas of mind in rivulets of color and vibration that cause my skin to tingle and eyes to sparkle--I feel them shimmer, I don't need to see them in the mirror that only shows a blue iris and dark pupil and whites now free of the blur of sleep and the red of dryness.
Summer is clearly crimson in its pulsations of heat, mirages in the distance, beads of moisture near my hair line when seasons meet--summer and hormones, cycles and the change.
An environment reflecting my inner shift as we retain the blessed moisture as much as possible so not to dry up, wither, break apart, blow away.
My flesh swells and rings tighten on plump digits, like the cactus who survives by cherishing the nourishing waters when they come--the rivers then running deep within where they spread and fill crevices and provide a sweet cushion of nectar that then reveals itself in ripened fruit...full, plump, red and delicious yet with a hint of tartness that reflects the heat of wisdom and passion held gently within. The spark.
All the elements align in perfect synchronicity as we merge.
She is reflected in me and I am a pale mirror of Her exquisite Grace.
Together we ripen.

Mother~Daughter

2011-08-01T14:39:00.001-04:00

love

wisdom

companionship

thank you, mom

Delighted

2011-07-31T16:30:00.002-04:00

While taking a peek at some of the reference materials recommended in one of the books I'm reading on writing, I came across the name Phyllis A. Whitney. "Wait! Why is that name so familiar?" I racked my brain until I finally just gave up and googled. Sure enough, a valid memory had risen from the depths of the realm of Junior High School, where the library had been like a second home to me, and Ms. Whitney's books had always provided such wonderful escape and entertainment for this gawky yet always-a-romantic girl. I was delighted to become reacquainted with this prolific author, and I look forward to reading her Guide to Fiction Writing ... and I may even re-read some of those juvenile titles that even now tickle my fancy with their lure of youthful romance and mystery.

Dust Storms

2011-07-19T12:46:00.000-04:00

Breathing in, the fine red dust, the musty smell, tickles my senses with it's light reminder...ashes to ashes and dust to dust...within each minute molecule resides an entire world, a whole history of Being that is from my own past lives and from all who have walked or swum or flown or rooted and then passed away, returning to Gaia on land or sea yet all do return, our form dissolves into elements that accumulate once more. All the billions of lives we tread upon in gratitude and who seep into our soles/souls, each one precious, carrying a message that we absorb, take unto our Selves, with or without our knowledge, yet still they come whispering...the wisdom of owl, the coo of dove, and the soft underbelly of snake who sheds her skin repeatedly, dying many times before she dies. Feel their energy within the dust? Taste their gifts upon tongue and throat--permeating the thin nasal cavities that curve and bend like minuscule labyrinths. From top to bottom, nose to feet, we are connected with all life past and present. Breathe...

Dawn Walking

2011-07-18T16:56:00.002-04:00

The only time I walk the dogs is 5am.
We are then safe from scorching sun and painfully hot pavement.
Our reward is dawn...cool, quiet, and breathtakingly beautiful.
Well, I like the beauty...the boys are more interested in the occasional Jack rabbit or scantily clad ground squirrel that darts across our path.
I have no way to post photos right now, though, so I invite you to trust me on this!

And this is the opposite of our walks in Maine where we would have been eaten alive by muzzies and blackflies if we dared to try a walk at dawn... (wink)

Dry and Dusty Wealth of Wellness

2011-07-17T18:21:00.005-04:00

She comes to me in dreams
at night
and leaves nothing what it seems
in dawning light,
I find my heart within Her land,
Her warm embrace and scented hand
that blooms in darkness cool and clear
and on the breeze I barely hear
a voice so precious, calm
and filled with love
that tells me I can
sing high above
the path
and write my heart upon the page
where one may turn to find a Sage
at play in youthful innocence
without agenda only immanence.
I feel the healing of Her light
whenever I give over all my rights
to demand or seek my own desire
and then feel Her love now and beyond.
Writing, flowing, She is near
and I listen to Her whisper in my ear,
I am special yet I am not,
all we are we have forgot,
and so I fill the page with words,
the sounds of heart that are to be heard
by just one soul who has lost her way
and finding solace in the play
of pen and ink upon the trees
that died to give the space for these
attempts are not alone and light will come,
the way is shone.
I feel a healing lesson bloom
and flower in this room
when opening and leaving out
the judge who stops the weaving of the loom
of words that twine within the work.
Mine is not to judge the feeling
or to control Her gentle healing,
but let Her flow into the world
a bright and cheerful, loving girl.
Release the gloom that sometimes comes
to darken joy or bring a cloud
for puffs of white are gently giving
all the nurturing of heaven.
Even when the thunder roars
or lightning strikes
don't lock the doors
but rather open wide
these portals so all may enter
and feel Her power.
For within all She is ever near,
sharing Her abundance,
giving, glowing, seeking Her experience
through us and without resistance
all will sing in harmony.

a few days earlier...

Sweet caress of a shifting dress of sands across this land, Her skirts smooth and sultry in the heat, as they whisper of cool nights under the lunar glow and all we know comes to light in Her fleshy flow, warm breath upon my face as Her smile breaks through the clouds barely visible so high drifting across the dark sky of night when all Her gifts soften and grow in gentle light...

Dawn is growing, warm breeze so lovely in the back yard as I step softly, eating my cup of granola, grateful for Being, grateful for the opportunity to experience more of Gaia's diversity as She changes in this new environment...strange yet familiar from dreams and vacations and visions. A gift indeed! How many of us are provided an opportunity--to see it and accept it, gently moving fear aside--to pick up our lives and move them cross-country?! What abundance and blessings She shares with me. I know and see and acknowledge this gift of transformation, this life I have been blessed with.

A flow of gratitude emerges as vibrantly blue as the aqua sea seen in the turquoise of Her elemental magic so valued here; is it the cool, serene energy of this gem that shows the life-giving waters of Her love within the depths of Her womb that native people treasure? Cool and pale or dark teal magic? Never before drawn to this color, I feel it's pull here within the desert of ghostly tans and the pale green of the palo verde bark, the black wood of the mesquite...the broad expanse of bright blue sky contrasting with the immense stretches of dull, hot soil. Extremes. Opposites. Joy in these striking visuals that test and reward the spirit.

Acknowledge and accept Her power that clearly dwells here, imposing stark conscious awareness within each moment. So many blessings. Wait for it...patience...not as in wishing a moment gone but as in knowing each one is precious and powerful--to relinquish control and allow that I am the foreigner in this land where the cactus grows mighty, the hawks soar overhead, and the ground squirrels appear to be naked in their thin coats. Me with the skin that pinks so easily and sweats all of my water quickly to evaporate before I know it--sucked up by Her zephyrs that carry the vital fluid to where it is needed.

A dry and dusty wealth of wellness held within the subtle messages all around. How can I do anything other than love Her diversity?! She is magnificent in Her survival! She laughs aloud when the monsoon comes and She swirls the dust and sends waves of it billowing rapidly across Her expansive body...sometimes followed by cleansing tears of joy and bliss! She is truly remarkable.

2800

2011-06-29T10:44:00.000-04:00

1 car
2 dogs
5 cats
2800 miles

Moving! Or I should say ... moved!
From Maine to Arizona.
Much to do as we settle into our new home.
I am good, the 'kitsnk9s' are good, and the opportunities for growth are endless!
More later, and I hope to get over to your blogs soon!
Much love to you all!

Veins

2011-06-02T10:46:00.003-04:00

Trace the lines of Her face,
veins of blood and spirit,
silver and roots,
deep within and upon the surface.
Each one a reflection as I sense my own
dips and valleys,
mountains and hills,
marked by time,
distended or sunken.
Age has brought Her vividly apparent and
like a blind woman my fingertips follow Her story,
shadows of Braille guiding me down each path of exploration.
Feel Her roots traveling the earth,
winding along and being diverted or pushing through,
gnarly and rough or smooth as the green switch of divination
that leads inward springing up fine hairs that sense every nuance,
every pocket of air,
every mote of dust or beam of light
that gleams through the breaks in the full canopy of leaves overhead.

skyroots

Her veins giving life and experiencing decay
as we transform the past into rebirth,
rising tall and strong in Self.
An energy trail that calls to each of us,
inviting like the bubbling springs,
the tendrils of vines are drawn to twine around
seeking Her Source of love and fulfillment.
Brightness shines through the veins
illuminating the Present
and palms tingle with Her beauty,
stretching out, opening, flowering.
Patterns are created and create
lines on the surface
that share a story of courage or defeat,
tales of fear and love.
A deep vertical line clearly depicts
the effects of anger and disregard for the sacred Beingness
that one tries to change or use,
deep as the grand canyon,
yet it can be filled with the flowing rivers of love and healing,
the cool rich nourishment softening and smoothing,
allowing heat to fall into a simmer,
a gentle glow of acceptance,
even becoming an embrace of love pure and simple,
true to Unity.
As the veins flow,
tracing the lines we step between
faded patches of grass too frail to survive
or pause in awe of the verdant moss
plush and vibrant within Her dark and cool tapestry
woven many times with threads that become stronger,
not weaker,
with weathering and wisdom.
A line leads up to the entrances
... enter into trance ...
which one is calling now?
Do I step into the forest
or onto the beach
or raise my arms for the hawk to swoop in and
carry me far away to the unknown
beyond the little valley of shimmering ores I've mined for years,
growing yet safe,
having set up my own timbers of support
within the shiny cool mine where
treasures lay waiting for all who see their potential.
But what of those gems not yet unearthed,
the rich veins criss-crossed by ancient roots
that prickle and engender courage in those who take up the call.
Where from here?

Follow the lines,

allow Her graceful wrinkles of wisdom

to lead the way ever deeper,

farther yet closer ... to center ... to Self.

Groundswell

2011-06-01T09:09:00.003-04:00

when She touches me I am Bliss

feeling Her love, soft touch, Her kiss

carries me away into this day

of incredible journey I cannot miss

joy to Gaia in all Her forms

sparkling bright Her inner light warms

sharing all Love from below and above

embracing and enveloped within Her arms

silently sitting upon Her breast I am calmed,

without anxiety or fear

as I feel Her near

and Peace descends within Her soft palm

Erratic start to this day in carrying and supporting another in need, sheltering and nourishing, brushing hand upon brow, weaving soft gossamer wings of love for him to put in his pocket and touch when stress reaches out and tugs upon his forelock as he runs his race of duty and obligation. Like a strongly muscled steed with steady gait who can gallop for miles, not a sprinter, this one, but in it for the long haul, drafting, plowing, passionate in purpose and steady in devotion, through all the weather he tills the fields and keeps his harness supple with the oil of his sweat. Gentle in nature, protective in function, kind in demeanor, strong in presence, my love, my partner. And I provide a balance of encouragement when he becomes weary, as She does for me when the birds sing and butterflies soar and dogs give kisses, soft in love, filed with compassion for the work undertaken is beautiful as we join hands in Her world, walking together, thanking Her, grateful in Being.

Flowing words like the images of We'Moon that could easily form the foundation of portals for a new journey of contemplative writing, inspiring exploration and provoking thoughts and deeply moving, created by the diversity of women who travel together within the pages of a book, we who read and we who contribute, we share our souls within and spirits transcend into its wisdom that is spread across the globe...Her globe of green and blue that throbs and pulses with the inner glow of all hearts beating as One. Through the pages are all ages of women who are strong, sensitive, damaged and healing as the tendrils of compassion from around the world wind their way into our hearts joining and empowering.

We are the keepers of Spirit and Hearth, for we are the embodied lives of Gaia in her fullness of creation. And so I support the doing by being and thus become before I act and bring focus to build the scaffolding that supports my partner and community of beings, we are a team, we are One with all others as we journey through what can be rainbow or thunderstorm that sometimes glow together in magnificence. What a work of art within the melding of lives when we pause to see and recognize Her everywhere in us and in others and in all that is. Amazing!

I am humbled with this knowing

that makes me both powerful

and

nothing more than a puff of a seed floating in the breeze

to somewhere unknown

bliss.

Core

2011-05-23T10:03:00.003-04:00

Within the landscape of our lives we meet the lions and the mice, the herons and the roses, we walk among the stars shining their brilliance, and play with the fireflies, we run with the laughter of the butterflies among the flowers into the depths of the forest and come out the other side to swim in a river and cross to the other side, and continue our travels along a winding path that has no destination for we are the destination.
Our landscape is the map to where we find ourselves, we are the pot of gold at the end of Her rainbow and we are the gold coins, each of us sharing the melting pot with all the lives and beings and experiences along our journey.
We create within the pot a unique blend of soul experiences which are formed into a Soul Coin that is a fragment of the whole--for an instant I believe I am that coin separate and solitary--yet the Light comes in Her warm divinity and we all melt together into Her glowing molten Core of purity and essence and spirit beyond the single coin.
My life journey is not mine alone but carried along in a river of gold--the river of tears fears joy bliss sorrow--and rolls and heaves together pounding and trickling alternating in force or gentleness as we flow together smoothing rocks and uprooting trees that will grow again downstream, building homes for some of us while others are disfigured-transfigured-transformed through breaking down and pulling apart to be explored and understood on a level that wasn't apparent a moment before.
I flow downstream and grab a rock, pull myself out and spread my flesh upon the smooth hard surface to dry and warm and become the form of this new experience to take the opportunity to embrace this moment in the solitude of insight and reflection.
Hold a fluid mirror cupped in trembling hands and see what is revealed, my body tattooed in scrapes and scratches and bruises, stained by the sweetness of berry juices, softened by petals of a thousand blossoms, covered in mud that is drying and staining and then flaking off with each movement of recovery from the toils of the flow with all the complexities and the simplicity of Life.
The river of life in form that reflects the growth of my spirit, the soul within this birth that chose to come and to experience specific interactions with all those who chose to interconnect with me! Together we have created experiences unique and sublime, not in comparison but in rapture.
The eyes to see and know this life only grow and shine the light of love when they perceive beyond comparison into the Unity veiled from the blind.
Balance the experiences I need and desire with those I feel drawn to learn from when instinct may say turn away yet from beneath comes the jewels and the golden coins at the end of the rainbow.
Come home to the molten Core.
Come home to Mother Earth.
Come home to the Infinite that chose to manifest within one's Soul to experience here and know how to see in new ways, always growing, for growth from Core is Infinite.

Affinity

2011-05-22T17:08:00.000-04:00

"There's an affinity between my body and the sensible presences that surround me, an old solidarity that pays scant heed to our overeducated distinction between animate and inanimate matter."

"If we allow that matter is not inert, but is rather animate (or self-organizing) from the get-go, then the hierarchy collapses, and we are left with a diversely differentiated field of animate beings, each of which has its gifts relative to the others. And we find ourselves not above, but in the very midst of this living field, our own sentience part and parcel of the sensuous landscape."

~ David Abram, Becoming Animal - An Earthly Cosmology

Easing into the day, slow steady start.
Joyful routines and gentle motions of body and mind, fluid and smooth.
Grace.
She comes in with her weeping cherry bridal veil, dreadlocks sweeping the fine sediment at Her feet, in a union of elements and spirit within the peace of home and heart.
I feel an over-riding love and joy that permeates this glorious morning as the sun shines and the birds call and all is well.
The tones of the chimes sing to the fingers of the zephyr.
And the branches wave and stretch, the sap running, softening, spreading throughout their limbs bringing flexibility and new growth.
Alive and tingling, buds emerging everywhere!
They are popping up in curiosity to explore the world this new season, same as millenia before yet also uniquely unfolding within the constraints and alignments of people and planets within Gaia; we are all cut from the same cloth draped across Her shoulders and flowing down Her body to become and pass and know.
All is freedom, all is choice.
In Her I know the magnificence of living an existence unbound yet structured.
Duality means nothing except a concept in which to plant ideas like all the pots in the market of every shape, size and color holding a million varieties of plants.
Yet I don't grow in a pot anymore; She has brought awareness and this realization allows my arms to overflow the brim and my roots to break through the bottom and the pottery cracks, then falls away, the colorful shards create a pattern upon the sand and become a beautiful play, a memory, a role of such delight but one unable to contain my spirit, a living knowing Spirit seeking to understand and Be One with Her.
I grow with the rain of Her love, and the support of Her soil, and the passion of Her shining spirit, and we breathe together, admiring the shards of my former pot, creating a unique mosaic that is lovely yet limited, and depicts one aspect of one life of one being who is not One at all but interconnected with all.
And then, I feel something further. What's this?
Emerging from this field, from within the green transformative essence of living tissue, a tiny flower, just a bud, delicate, precious, fragile begins to open and I smile with this bloom of my heart and soul of Gaia manifesting.
I open, spreading, and a scent floats upon the breeze as I send compassion out to be with anyone who will pause and inhale and, for a moment, we see through the same senses and become One Spirit and all is Peace, Joy, Bliss, Love.
I am that flower, that tree, that rock, that cloud drifting in oceans above and below so perfectly blue that all cares disappear and we are Infinite.

Goose or Duck?

2011-05-22T17:07:00.000-04:00

Beautiful weekend, shared by my friend . . .

The Great Mother

2011-05-08T10:06:00.003-04:00

"Her self-evident mystery is one of Divine love,

the very presence of the eternal in the transient

like the fragrance exuding from a flower."

~ Shambhavi

funny...
I selected this flower photo to post and then recalled
that it was guiding my journey
on the road to Mom's house last year....

Center of the Circle

2011-05-05T09:09:00.001-04:00

Desert Willow (chilopsis linearis)
photo courtesy Wikimedia Commons

"Do you want to improve the world?
I don't think it can be done.
The world is sacred.
It can't be improved.
If you tamper with it, you'll ruin it.
If you treat it like an object, you'll lose it.
. . .
The Master sees things as they are,
without trying to control them.
She lets them go their own way,
and resides at the center of the circle."

~ Tao Te Ching #29, Stephen Mitchell

I knew when I woke yesterday morning that it would be a day of respite . . .

soft and gray

mist at play

soothing senses deep

calm the day

Her gentle ways

bring rest and silent sleep

The muffled sounds wrapped around me like a fleecy blanket that cocooned me from the world and my own anxieties, easing me into a space of stillness where could rejuvenate . . . slowly, easily, quietly. Yesterday, not even any music playing, only the breath of life, the sighs of contentment, the exquisite sense of slumbering senses as muscles relaxed, tension waned, release came and a curtain of pure peace was draped upon my soul. Without pushing myself, I spent most of the day writing, reading and snuggling with the animals.

The final essence I read about as dusk eased into the house was Desert Willow and the flower's image enthralled me even before I read of its healing energies; it's "harmonizing qualities are those of being flexible, feeling respite and 'in the flow' of life, moving to the perspective of comfort and ease no matter what the situation" (Desert Alchemy Flower Essences). I paused to meditate upon this beautiful, gentle plant and Her spirit, feeling Her resonance.

Then, before falling asleep, I opened the Tao to where I had left off reading many weeks ago, and the passage quoted above was the one revealed. I repeated the last two sentences of it over and over, in meditation, and felt the 'three control issues' I'd been struggling with this week simply melt away.

Changing

2011-05-03T16:20:00.003-04:00

A lovely morning out in the yard with Otter and Gump, our feisty, opinionated indoor/outdoor cats. These two are quite the characters and, although they love attention from people - and even enjoy interacting with the dogs - both of them as they matured became increasingly aggressive with the other house-cats. We racked our brains and finally came up with a solution we are all happy with--the indoor/outdoor cattery/kennel! Now that winter is passed, Otter and Gump, sister and brother, are thrilled to be able to once more roam the yard and hunt; Otter catches bugs and butterflies, while Gump goes for the bigger game of mice, voles and birds. I don't enjoy the hunting, and often find myself warning away various creatures, but when I'm not quick enough, I try to just look the other way and let the cats do what they do naturally!

This morning, much earlier . . .

Feel Her surging through me,
Gaia strong and clear,
knowing Her power and love as She is near,
honest feelings ebb and flow
as I breathe calmly, deep and slow,
let float a smile into the air
where all can feel it roaming there
and here and everywhere!

Let loose the worms and frogs and birds
that toil and carry all their words
from sea to shining sea and me I
share what words I carry through the night
and scatter them in dreams upon the world
maybe they will root and then unfurl
into the moonlight-sunlight-shadow
full and strong with all I know
yet leave the openings all around
for all I've yet to learn abounds!

Singing to the trees I feel a freedom
heady in its joy, for they embrace what comes
and they accept on Her behalf
whether they are full or cut in half
or downtrodden to the mud
yet in Her embrace they rise above,
living breathing glowing changing
all of life . . . always rearranging.

My ears pick up part of a conversation, or I catch a glimpse of a headline, and I want to say...

Skip the hype descending from all angles and the fear and anger, let it go, too! No place for you, Dear Fear, to live here, for I embrace you, love you and set you free to become so much more than the little darkness that seeks to hide and control. Instead I take you in, let you visit, and love you, heal you, then set you free. We don't need to sit in the dark at the same table day after day, Dear Fear, drinking bitter memories and nibbling on terrible fears of future. Put in the sugar, drizzle the honey of life's bliss, sweeten the cup and allow Her love to overflow into our mouths and bodies and hearts and Spirit! Feel Her soaring within! Her sweetness made all of the uglies beautiful by transforming -- transmutation! Just as the plants transmute one element into another and create more than they started with, so can we!

So many beautiful energies always near to touch and feel and become One with. No need to dwell upon the forces that come in like opportunistic parasites and try to take hold. Give them a moment, for all have validity, and then pull them off, let them go, set them free to continue a journey of transformation having provided their piece of the Infinite puzzle of Life.

Like a labyrinth we travel always to Her when we maintain our focus--the path is clear, winding but clear, obstacles but not insurmountable. Only becoming a maze when we allow mind and fear to control our journey, lashing out or reacting without reflection; a maze with its dead ends and crushingly narrow turns and confusion that builds, growing so tall we can see nothing except our fear and fear of death. Trim the hedges, clear the walls, break through and travel the clear labyrinth once more to Gaia and love and healing and the beauty of all potential awakenings...

Just yesterday, I looked around, opening to Her, wanting to make sense of what I could see ...

Soil and leaves and organisms within,
where does death end and life begin?
We rake the leaves and clear the lawn
of all the detritus from the past -- now gone.
yet letting nothing remain behind
is to close our hearts and loose the mind
to control all that we see and feel,
and disallow Her Grace to bind and heal.
Clear the palette thinking 'how pristine'
yet all we do is hide the pain, unseen.
Shoved aside and carried away,
where are the piles of leaves in which to play?
Gone the natural humus of the soil.
Gone the rewards of how all Beings toil
and share themselves when they are through
so the rest of Life can begin anew.
Instead we substitute a falsity, delusion,
in thinking we know better, yet all is illusion.
"Look how clean" we say with pride,
but what about all those who died
and whose gift of life transformed?
We have removed them, life balanced no more.

Yet I didn't dwell but let it all go, enjoying each bud, each green leaf, each playful scamper.
Gaia is always willing to shine Her light for me to follow...

Honey, I Love You

2011-04-29T16:37:00.000-04:00

As soon as you apply yourself to contemplation, you will at once feel your senses gather themselves together: they seem like bees which return to the hive and there shut themselves up to work at the making of honey.
– Saint Teresa of Avila

The Forsythia's delicate blooms and brittle branches reach out cheerfully to me in the distance in spite of the still-cold nights; they are the earliest to show their colors on our property while other plants are barely budding and grass is sparse.

Drinking Honeybush teasan, its subtle flavor teasing me, I savor the sunshine and the songs of the birds.

As in the quote, full attention brings the sweetness of nourishing soul-honey.

Discovery

2011-04-28T09:49:00.001-04:00

Ocotillo

"Ultimately, spirituality is a mode of being in which not only the divine and the human commune with each other but through which we discover ourselves in the universe and the universe discovers itself in us."

~ Thomas Berry, The Sacred Universe

Rainy morning, green grass beginning to reveal itself once more as the soil moistens, warms, and wakes up like I do when splashing water upon my face. The past few nights, when I go out with the dogs before bed, the night-hoises are so loud and enchanting. The silence of slumber in winter is being replaced by insects and peepers and the rustles of beings in brush free from their snow-forts of hibernation. I see--really see--the beauty and wonder of the woods, the glorious guardian pines I treasure towering over all other plants and over me and my family. We have lived for ten ears within their embrace and I have felt so safe and nourished, now fully recovered from past traumas and challenges; they have kept me swaddled in a loving blanket of multi-colored rough-bark threads, each one feeding and weaving my heart whole. I breathe in their scent and hold it within briefly, acknowledging their gift. A bit of sadness creeps upon me with the knowing of our this-year-sometime departure, yet not separation for I am ever with them and they with me in Spirit and imagination. I can close my eyes and feel them and will carry this with me ... their presence, protection and peaceful power. I am eager for change of locale--of energy flow--to experience Gaia in a new way and She me. I've been with Her before in the desert but so long ago and was not then in a state of mind and heart to fully bring Her into Self. I can gaze at photos and sense Her wonders but to feel Her under my feet once more will be an incomparable gift for which I am so thankful. I am not seeking fulfillment in Her, in the change of Her face, but rather pure pleasure and growth and discovery. To open to Her changing face and touch Her rough dry skin, She is Crone, Queen, Grandmother who helps us see beyond the surface. She is teacher and I am student, delving within to recover what I once knew but that has been hidden until now. What wonders of knowing await? If I couldn't travel to Her other visage, I would still learn Her landscape of lessons and grow, finding and opening to the opportunities in abundance every moment. I had not even contemplated being able to return to Her other face, Her mysteries of life in the West and Southwest. I had thought that I would only be able to dream of Her or visit Her in Her dusty robes and gnarled hands wise beyond words and subtle surprises of bright color ... to merely dip into Her briefly as circumstances allowed. To now be on a journey back to where I first remembered Her sacredness is a gift beyond measure. A blessing of discovery in each other.

A Sense of Wonder

2011-04-25T10:56:00.003-04:00

For those of you who have yet to see "A Sense of Wonder," the 2010 docudrama based upon Rachel Carson (author of "Silent Spring"), I encourage you to find a way to view this lovely film.

Somehow, I missed its release last year, but was grateful that my husband came across and recorded it for me to watch yesterday. The poignant, one-woman play, written and performed by Kaiulani Lee, was captured beautifully in the simple film; most of the dialogue is from Rachel Carson's writings and the actress delivers each word with heart-felt sincerity.

"Those who dwell,

as scientists or laymen,

among the beauties and mysteries of the earth

are never alone or weary of life."

Journey of Soul Inquiry

2011-04-24T00:01:00.000-04:00

First, a heartfelt thank you to everyone who traveled with me on this Journey of Soul Inquiry. Your thoughtful comments, insights, and beautiful encouragement were truly a blessing.

I am pleased to announce that the entire 120 passages are now available either for free as a download, or to purchase as a printed book.

I trust that the messages and the impressions they create will touch you as they have me, bringing inspiration and insight, joy and healing reflection. May they open you, and those with whom you share them, to explore new ways of being and doing in the world, whether through your own process, or through the passages that were revealed to me.

Bright Blessings!

Yarrow

2011-04-22T10:29:00.000-04:00

www.fesflowers.com

A few years ago, Yarrow seemed to be reaching out to me, asking me to include her in the sunshine flower bed. I accepted her invitation and selected four varieties. I was fascinated by them -- their strength and subtlety, the smallness of the flowers belying their sturdiness, and I loved how they created a delightful canopy of blooms atop the tall stem.

With all the issues recently relating to environmental stress and potential radiation increases, I turned to Gaia and Her flowers. Within the world of vibration and energy, the flowers sing of harmony and healing, flooding our being with joy. And Flower Essences are able to share these blessings from blooms across the country or around the world.

There are many vibrational remedies and essences that will help to alleviate the imbalances created within our systems by an overload of radiation and/or environmental toxins. Which one(s) I use and what approach I take with myself, the animals or clients, depends upon where my inner guide is leading me in each individual situation.

Because I was once again feeling a strong call by Yarrow, I sought out options for this particular Flower Essence. Recalling that FES had created a blend, although I hadn't explored very many of their essences (there are many flower essence lines available!), I bought a bottle of Yarrow Environmental Essence ("YES") and waited eagerly for its arrival.

YES is a fabulous formula! With the first four drops, I felt it moving through my system smoothly and powerfully; and I loved the odd taste which confirmed that I needed the cleansing, self-healing energy shared by the flowers, plants and crystalline structures within this blend. The sensation reminded me of how, when the Yarrow in my flower bed blooms, I immediately feel like a breath of fresh air has moved through me like Mother Nature's broom! I will continue dosing for a week or so, or until I sense that the clearing I needed can continue on its own without the subtle catalyst shared by the flowers.

Just say YES!

Awe

2011-04-21T09:02:00.001-04:00

Flower of Prayer

Fragile shell so temporary housing this Spirit, so many gifts like all the other beings yet unique each of us. Needing shelter from heat and cold, creativity of La Chispa and Knowledge combine to discover answers to survival having long ago left behind how to simply Be in the world comfortable entirely with skin born within. The great sentinel pine grows and stands tall, surviving from sapling the harsh snows and frigid temperatures and blazing sun in drought. The majestic saguaro with its cautious growth and precious arms that it spreads only when mature and finally secure in its place in the world. The wildflower that some call weed who springs up fresh and bright each time, living fully for its moments int he mildness then to release itself, scattering remnants and bits that are whole yet tiny, strong yet carried away on the merest breeze or the most miniscule beak of a bird that sees in the distance a field of clover or a stand of trees beckoning a journey. This fragile thing I wear, so precious, so needy and delicate, grateful for thoughts and inspiration that provide for its existence here and now to experience the world of form. Mountains calling, a crooked tree the invitation of a hand that blends into Her surroundings only visible if we open to seeing. She waves a little, smiling. Her creatures tend to their business oblivious to my gaze of awe.

Marinade

2011-04-17T15:16:00.000-04:00

Mother Earth Marinating Her Spring Greens

Resting as One

2011-04-16T20:38:00.000-04:00

SoulCards(c)

I rest in Her and She in me.

Perfection is this last image waiting patiently as the final card in my Journey of Soul Inquiry.
For as I traveled, the One constant I knew was always a fresh connection with Her ... Earth Mother, She Who Birthed the Universe.
Gaia has been within always, yet allowing Her to flow through my writing without restrictive thought or mental construct has been a beautiful and empowering experience.
She has brought me home in ways I never imagined before and opened my eyes to vistas of Her glory merely glimpsed in the past.
I feel Her deeply, ever more deeply.
We are One in our energy as well as belief for this journey has opened my heart and soul to our inseparability of Earth and Divine--they are the same.

See how She shimmers within forest and field, how Her essence glimmers through the flowers she yields.
Many and varied are Her gifts through the land yet none are more precious than the touch of Her hand upon mine when we walk and Her voice in my ear when She sweetly talks through the wind and the wingeds with their songs that are heard for miles upon seconds that soar and carry our love to all who may yearn for more.
Once in fear of the darkness unfolding yet now Her hand is the breath I am holding while hugging a tree and basking in sun or hearing the sea upon sands ... all are One.

I never imagined that I would feel Her presence to such a degree that now I could no more be alone than to be without form embracing our journey together in the material world of experience learning and laughing and loving.
Truly remarkable the path I have penned with these images as portals.
The cards had been here for years, they had called to me at different points when one would resonate but this was unlike all those moments before.
Gaia reached out, touched my heart with a light of such creative clarity that I did not question the beacon.
I heard Her voice and I simply responded, opening to Her guidance and whispers and love.
I offered myself as channel in these moments and felt tremendous peace or insight or remembrance.
There have been moments when the words that flowed were familiar ... and others when I finished writing surprised to see what symbols had been created that manifested as words reflecting images from an image.
Contemplative writing as process, guided by her infinite wisdom like a bud knowing which elements to draw within its roots in order to flower fully.
I am ever so humbled and grateful.

A journey written to explore, and to share in communion with those who already know Gaia in all Her sacred stillness and wild wonder, and perhaps to reach out to those who have not felt Her as Nature, who have not realized Her within Self in heartbeat and cells, who have not known the Divine in all aspects of life and form and function, flora and fauna. She is the mundane and the magical.
We are One.

I'm Just an Old Chunk of Coal

2011-04-15T10:03:00.000-04:00

SoulCards(c)

Coal becomes diamond and reflects the light, enhancing, brightening.
Transformation of life and Self, I open to the wisdom that is abundant to a heart receptive.
See the beauty in the coal, cloaked and humble, taking its time in transformation as the world speeds by.
Sit in mind's eye--center.
Here a focus of light, a laser directed through multi-faceted experiences and planes of existence too numerous to name yet present and filled with purpose.
She brings me diamonds to sparkle and coal to warm the sparks asleep within, deep in the bowels of Self and earth, waiting, building, nourishing.
Rocks of Ages.
Infinity.
Solitaire of Oneness that fills our field with Light.
Accepting, I welcome Her.

Remarkable gifts that we harvest yet do not see or honor...
Thank you, Gaia, for within each part is the whole of you and us and all life.
In the plainest soul lies the deepest secrets of a knowing born out of simplicity.
For two are One, the duality an illusion.
Coal is diamond and the non-sparkles are dull yet remove and release the toxins by absorbing them and transforming them rather than repelling.
The prisms of diamonds reflect in blue ice of magnificence bringing their unique gifts of transformation and clarity.
One is not more important or of more value than the other for they are One born of Her wisdom that we see when we open.
The beauty of the coal in Her obsidian skin that draws in the light to heal Her Self.
The beauty of the diamond in Her stardust mirrors that send the light to heal Her world.
Glimpse the wisdom in Her duality and go beyond the comparative illusory realm of dark and light, black and white, to see the future of our sacredness in all facets of life as One.

Blessed image as this particular journey slows.
A truthful reminder of all I have gleaned along the way through Her portals, each pebble and twig hold a message if I have ears to hear and eyes to see and bare an open heart.
A life of temptation to be ever-drawn to the spectacular, the grand, the twinkling effervescence of the false light of ego-attachments that are fine so long as I honor the True Light and embrace Her cave, the sleep, the darkness, the womb of simple solitude and its gifts of renewal that may come at a slower pace yet are not lost in the evanescence of illusion.
So eager to see the next moment sometimes, to find the excitement, when the peace of the present moment is here and now and is ultimately Her greatest gift.
"I'm just an old chunk of coal, but I'm gonna be a diamond some day..." can be deceiving--gaze deeper and honor the coal for the energy and unique cleansing it provides, for only then will the diamond form naturally flaws and all.
Honor the common elements of our amazing, gorgeous universe for Her diamond is always here, there, waiting to shine once we embrace the coal.

A Star is Born

2011-04-14T10:36:00.004-04:00

SoulCards(c)

A star glows with the light of all souls who travel and wander, seeking, living the experience of birth and death.
We are the light reflected, the stars that shine in the night, and She is the star within, the spark of eternal love.
Within our reach is everything for She withholds nothing.
Only our own constructed limitations hold us back from a journey of peace ... compassion guides our way and protects us from ourselves.
We form the stars with each pause and purpose in life; with each compassionate breath we take and give to another a star is born.
From within and without, She joins with us in singing the world into Being--our consciousness rises as One light and bursts into joyous fireworks spreading out across the universe.
Each precious bit of soil, each microbe, each crystalline structure is a star in its world, sharing and transforming and allowing energy to flow in a light beyond limitations.
Lights of a city, how bright and enticing, yet limit our vision of the universe and Her stars that are seen across the galaxy.
How do we see within and beyond the bright, busy lives we lead to know Her light in the world around us and inside of us?
How shall we grow the stars within to be alight unto our world ... to shine upon the path before us, illuminating our own journey and allowing others to glimmer as well?
A soul reaches out, fingertips extended, connecting the light as it flows and expands from one to another.
Beautiful to feel the light from within and how we open ... let it out to shine!
The light of our elemental world is not to be kept hidden for without the oxygen of life it will flicker and disappear.
An awareness comes within a star's vessel, a knowing that through communion--with the Divine, with all beings and life in every form, with the Divine in others--is light.
A star is born in communion.

"The Universe is a communion of subjects, not a collection of objects."

~ Thomas Berry

Perfect Union

2011-04-13T13:56:00.001-04:00

SoulCards(c)

Joined as One across the cosmos, we are unique yet provide the perfect match for each other, each bringing gifts to share and, when we touch, a glow begins that spreads into the field of all knowing.
Our energies spinning in our spiral dance.
Marriage of Universe.
Creation and Balance.
Emotion and Thought.
Joining.
One.

An extraordinary feeling as Her sea sweeps through me and fills my pores and pours out in swirls into a world wherein we all take our chance in the dance of life.
Combining mine with yours as we fly to the sky or dive to the depths!
We evaporate and float up into the ether where we change and then fall to the ground over and over in cascades of increasing clarity as our cycles of life continue.
See the beauty in Her waves and rain and streams and lakes and know Her comfort when our mouths are dry and our skin is parched and we start to cry tears of salt that cannot fall and She is here to refresh with Her Love.
Droplets one at a time upon my tongue quench my thirst in exquisite moments as each permeates, spreading--knowing the gift of a single drop. One at a time, they keep me going during the drought and then the rains come in monsoon and gales rush over my flaky outer layer like the hard sands of the sun-cracked desert, wanting to drink but to much too soon only washes away somewhere else before I can grasp the realization that what I need is here right Now.
All I need is here and now.
The future can seem exciting and inviting and when it comes then I will enjoy its blessings, but what if it doesn't?
Enjoy NOW.
Easy to get so caught up in what might be that I miss what is happening NOW--glorious, wonderful, each droplet a blessing neither yearning for past or craving future but relishing the present.
Huge lessons and tiny ones.
Be Present. Connect. Join. Merge. Communion. Community. Union.

Leap of Faith

2011-04-12T17:03:00.000-04:00

SoulCards(c)

A leap of faith takes me beyond my little world of ego and control into the sparkling atmosphere of lightening flashes that create harmonies to support and inspire.
I feel light and dance upon the clouds with their puffy white buoyancy beneath feet once firmly planted merely in what could be conformed to safety of heart.
An illusion of safety because without faith the heart is a caged bird fluttering against the bars in endless repetition but never growing or learning to fly.
When Her Light fills me, I leap!
Or do I leap and then Her Light glows from within?!
The moment of leaping is a mysterious transformation that has no beginning or ending for it is part of the journey I choose.
Leap of faith ... am I gazing forward, looking backward, closing my eyes or keeping my vision clear in that moment?
Is it faith when I leap in fear? Yes...leaping without knowing is true faith, is it not?
And then stretching before me is infinite possibilities.
Playing it safe instead of leaping in faith doesn't mean there won't be any challenges.
Safety is an illusion we create that can become a whirlpool in which we drown...it can be the quicksand into which we slowly sink.
So why not leap?
Follow heart, listen to intuition, use mind, and create a new world of peace and of compassion.
Holding hands, we do not have to feel like we are stepping off a cliff all alone.
Reach out to Her and She will grasp our hands in love and we leap together!

Imagery fills my mind with all kinds of scenarios--they are infinite in manifestation.
Circumstances may appear static but our mental, emotional or spiritual approach can be vast in opportunity and once we become aware of this, even the physical opens to previously unforeseen paths.
Each step creates a print ... a pattern ... an opening into The Now through which anything becomes possible; when not attached to a want or desire, we can evolve, grow beyond our previous vision.

I leap and then find myself trying to go back, grasping for the familiar but it is already gone--it is the past.
This is when I may close my eyes in terror but then feel Her hand touch mine. She is always within and available and all I have to do is allow Her to move in me and She will bring peace colored with courage and confidence and faith.

Sometimes I leap and the fog is so thick that I cannot see my own arm let alone the air into which I place my foot and I know the fall may belong or short with a landing that could be hard or soft but still I leap because I also trust that bridges may manifest from the gleaming colors of her cloak spread out before me to become a magic carpet ride upon the back of an eagle or a safety net woven from the threads of my ancestors' spirits into which I land without injury.
Leap. Trust that the experience is necessary and beautiful and filled with bliss ... ultimately.

Blossoms, Not Burdens

2011-04-11T10:42:00.000-04:00

SoulCards(c)

She bears the lotus of love and peace upon her head like native women carry their baskets of nourishing grains.
She is a vision of Light within all that I am and can become.
No burdens do I carry when She is here for choice delights the soul and slows the pace into a dance along the path.
Light emerges wherever She walks and I smile to feel Her footsteps alongside mine...gentle, graceful.
We move through this dream in harmony, our hearts beat as one and flowers spring from the prints of our feet.
Within Her I am whole and beauty is everywhere I look knowing all that happens is nourishing growth even in the midst of loss or pain.
When I open to Her ever-present Spirit, only bliss can bloom in my heart crowding out the thorns I resist that then prick.
A gray morning is diffusing Her Light into a gentle veil of wonder and softening the view of what is so that I drink Her slowly in, savoring, sip by sip, feeling Her permeate my being like subtle rose tea blessed moment by moment.
The swish of movement out in the world rushes through Her puddle-prints and I relish the vibration of Her presence within them. Easy, soft sounds surround and muffle the speeding machines upon flat hard surfaces.
Within Her, I drift and settle and dance the Light alive within Self.

Dust in the Wind

2011-04-10T22:02:00.001-04:00

SoulCards(c)

Two crystal clear visions emerged from the same image...

A continuation of one portion of yesterday's contemplation, I see red sands, red dust, dust in the wind *--emotions of the past that serve no purpose in the present are become dust...dust in the wind...

and

Upon the wind are carried the voices of those who are unable to speak for themselves. Waiting for healing, for permission, for a sign, we are their voices. Wise women, healers, seekers, old or young, fat or thin, we are the voices for those whose lips are sealed and whose voices are silent or becoming the whispers that might blossom if they hear another's voice raised in confident expression. We are the winds of change, each of us...

What is your vision? Where does the SoulCard portal take you?

______________
*The instant the phrase "dust in the wind" came to mind, I was carried into the song by that name performed by Kansas...a beautiful, peaceful song depicting for me the eternal gifts of Gaia balanced by a loving detachment from the objects and beliefs that we think are so important yet only take us away from the perfection of each moment.

stop

2011-04-09T10:04:00.000-04:00

SoulCards(c)

"STOP!"
Pause in the emergent moment and consider the actions so that they are not RE-actions but conscious response.
Each experience is an opportunity to witness Self and others, to grow through challenges joyful and painful, to walk or stand.
Once settled in Self there is no thought requiring this pause because each action flows beautifully and naturally from Being...being One with all of life in The Now.
Instinct.
Intuition.
A deep knowing comes through that is beneath and beyond our thinking minds.
Look around.
See the wisdom of Gaia flowing through all life...through and within we humans as well when we get out of our own way, using our minds consciously for manifesting but coming from the space of stillness and presence not from the egoic thinking mind. Use the mind, do not let it use us.
It is the origination point here...to know in an awareness that is centered in Gaia--the Infinite--Source.
Imagine a voice, Her voice, speaking through each of our individual lives, a reminder to "stop" and allow Her to flow through our every cell and tissue and very existence on all planes.
Emotions rise and I see how rooted some of them are in the past, not the present. They are tangled in the perceived complexity of past situations that no longer exist or apply, the tendrils sharp but dry and brittle so that all I have to do is crumble them with firm hands--rub them between my palms until they are dust and soft and fall away into soil and wind to become part of a new life. No longer having the rigid residue of the past, the emotions spring up fresh and can be seen in the purity of the now. Clean. Crisp. And flexible! Malleable emotions felt and released!
It may require a reminder to "stop"...to pause and reflect.
Take a moment--a breath.
Feel the experience of NOW fully without the tendrils of the past.
"STOP!"
Screaming, yelling, calling out as loudly as possible...is that sometimes what we have to do to bring awareness of Self and others into the present moment? Maybe; each path is unique. To release through sound the anger, fear, pain or frustration (often residing partially if not fully in the past voice that never spoke)--let it all out through clarifying and healing methods that do no harm to self or others.
Residual emotions can come up again and again!
All that was gone was only buried and can come rising up like bile that has tainted one step in a journey on the path of the present. Yellow and bitter and burning, the emotion-of-past had no place but still tried to cling to the back of the throat like an old, poisoned tree-frog no longer verdant and beneficial but yellow-mottled and rotten-smelling.
Quick! Put in a tube and allow the bile to drain away into the ground to be cleansed and to be dissipated by clear rains and sun swept skies to reveal once more the peaceful sticky-toed tree-frog that emerges and brings peaceful presence and allow *that* to stick.

Swirls and Twirls

2011-04-08T16:40:00.001-04:00

SoulCards(c)

See the future as She swirls and twirls in Her skirts of bliss and being, pain and joy, widening the spiral as She dances. Arms spread...am I ready to fly or am I bracing myself?
Allowing for the possibilities, I wonder and wander to and fro among the paths of Her gardens. A flower catches my eye with its bright orange splendor only to spread wings and fly away a butterfly sharing her gift of transformative passion.
The sun rises in bits of awakening as we all stir and rise ourselves to this moment of yesterday's future and tomorrow's past and I wonder...
Staring into the present I watch in fascination at busy lives of people around me and the contented lives of those creatures called "Guardians of Being" while we all just breathe and move and take part in chosen lives.
A broad canvas waits to be painted with turmeric and beets; bright yellow and deep red stain the blankness spread before my fingers as creation emerges and a pine bough lends her feathery touch to gently spread life in aromatic sweeps that connect edges where boundaries once were but disappear now in acceptance and peace.
The tiny flowers poke their faces out between prickles of life situations yet the beauty of cactus is as amazing as the cosmos blooms wildly waving in the breeze thousands of miles away but woven together as we travel our paths.
Gazing into future like the carnival gypsy with her crystal ball who only speaks what she sees and we are the ones to open in infinite variety like the rainforest's secret remedies resplendent.
All our elements co-mingle and we reach out or draw within based upon how much we have grown and what kernels of wisdom we have harvested walking the corn fields of life.
Infinite variety and choices galore can cloud our minds or clear them as a brisk breeze sweeping away debris to see the colorful pattern of carefully laid bricks with accidental accents gleaming brightly here and there...

A meandering non-pattern of words and images that stream endlessly from a soul unencumbered in this solitary moment that is only open and welcoming to sound and picture and life surrounding the space of stillness. Nonsense words to some yet they awaken the no-sense of the non-physical that is subtle energy flowing without direction to create swirls and twirls of ink upon a page previously blank yet now a flow of characters that are read by those who know the language but merely graceful curves to one who has not learned this particular expression of being in world past, present, future yet once they learn then all is clear and remains lovely yet enhanced with meaning...connection and sharing and possibility.

Child of Light

2011-04-07T10:53:00.000-04:00

SoulCards(c)

Welcome the Child of Light imbuing my Soul with joy and innocence and play! Play every day--imagine, create, skip, and sing, build houses for the wee people in the forests and deserts, invite our eyes to see beyond the mundane to the magical. Realms of laughter bubbling out of springs and rolling with delight in fields of golden grasses burnished by sunlight fingers dancing.
Dreams that come true every second and love that expands and carries us "up, up and away in our beautiful balloon" of colors and sparkles where we see all life as precious and wondrous. Marvel at the minute roly-polies tucking themselves into balls like tiny beads of beingness unremarkable yet duplicated nowhere else and mystic in their ability to transform and survive.
Snow melts and seeps into thirsty ground teeming with expression where Robins hop and peck, and fragile green tips glance upward to gauge the angle of sun and warmth of beaming light, playing the ancient game of hide-n-seek.
Bringing wonder into my heart, I embrace my Child of Light, and fling my arms wide open to allow fertility and rebirth to flow into every aspect of being and living.
See the smiles on faces and feel the love in companionship.
Giggle into the silence that then echoes the tinkling sounds as the vibrations spread far and near, filtering into stodgy old growth renewing and moving.
Feel myself moving through the currents of the river of life as Her energy flows through me; we mimic and mirror each other until we are One without boundaries.
Eyes closed, awareness is light upon skin as I feel the patterns shift, feel the ribbons of energy reverberate until I know not where this body begins and ends and become...becoming...Being Child of Light.

Remarkable how full we can feel with an energy that is so spiritual and connected that we become indescribable. Moments when there simply is no separation and we become lost in time and space yet find Self so we are not lost at all. Moments stretching on and on that ebb and flow, recurrent in their reminders of the interconnection we all share within Gaia. Our breath, our actions, our emotions, and material bodies that are no more structure than a rainbow arching into infinity. Amazing to see these Truths, to know their reality. To be blessed in Her Web yet weave our own creations as we join the patterns that emerge as Our world. A matrix of Divine flow, a field ever-changing yet always the same reflected in the cycles of life and the seasonal shifts for a tree is always a tree yet appears to change and then is born again indecipherable within the forest yet unique in its own qualities. All is changing yet forever the same...new patterns creating diversity.

Magical

2011-04-06T17:54:00.000-04:00

Soul Cards(c)

Walking in the footsteps of all creatures as we are One.
See how our spirits blend and we enhance each other through our interaction?
"Figs, twigs and fodder" are my food and I am nourished within Gaia in Her glorious diversity.
The animals walk within me--sharing their pleasures and gifts of senses and perception that is otherwise unknown, hidden behind the thoughts that tremble and race through a mind that can be savior or foe depending upon the "I" that knows and grows, seeing, and imagining, for within the space of moments spent with other Beings within and walking beyond my limitations are treasures of color and sound and spirit.
Lakes and puddles reflect the Light of Love while canyons, desert sands, and forests cool and sheltering bring balance. Stars that sparkle and shimmer inspire and share a breathless awe of all that is and was and ever will be. Cool dry air greets my yawn in the morning and eases the beginning of a new day that exists in my mind and body, and warm sun-tipped breezes lift my joy as they caress the hair upon brow and scalp, shifting gently or whipping wildly in evocative stimulation. I feel the
Oneness of my path that stretches ever onward into the past of existence that is ever-present within each breath.
Magical Mother Nature renewing and transforming, each pause a moment of pure ecstasy held transfixed in the prism of eternity.
Rainbows fall from Her eyes across skies and walls and the pot of gold is here and now, falling into up-raised palms open and accepting with blissful surrender.
Peace floats upon the backs of the beasts that have no burdens except those we impose and so we set them and ourselves free from expectation.
Truly, every glance partakes of miracles and beauty beyond imagination.
To walk in awareness the pure glory of our world is to honor Gaia and Self in our joint experience of Being.
Exquisite moments...
The twinkle of movement and change...

Blog Hiatus

2011-03-19T12:30:00.001-04:00

All good, just a brief break. :-)
I will continue with the last few Soul Cards
on my Journey of Soul Inquiry when I return to blogging.

Bright Blessings to All!

Look Into Her Eyes

2011-03-18T10:17:00.000-04:00

SoulCards(c)

look into Her eyes
and see the blue skies
clear and bright
then with stars glowing
in the night
when shift comes
and the world hums
in wonder flowing
dreams that drift
around or toss
our thoughts
so high they slide
down a rainbow
into the glistening pool
that waits serene
and at peace between
the forest and the field
where gentle hearts
join hands without parts
and are Whole

Expressions flowing without catching their tails in closing doors
or snagging their sleeves upon window sills rough from disuse,
where splinters caught in tender fingers
remind us to be aware when
leaning out open windows
that always we are exposed yet this is good
to lean and feel the rush of wind fresh and clean into stuffy spaces,
the cool ocean breeze or warm shallow zephyr,
depending upon Her mood,
that carries us places where only
She knows our Truth and
She shows it to Self.
When I look into Her eyes all around,
upon the ground or skies above,
I know and see Her Love as I am exposed and continue to express...

Many Hands of Choice

2011-03-17T10:11:00.000-04:00

SoulCards(c)

Many hands create this life, and mine join with theirs in choices and connection and setting each other free to create and build or transform as the lessons are born into each of us. We journey our visions that flow through many hands of choice.Many hands create our world and tear it down so that reconstruction can begin. I move through a life where many hands join together, clasping in love or breaking away by prying the fingers of others off one by one. My hands reach out to touch and soothe the fears because I reach out in compassion even without doing. Many hands create.

I feel a strong resistance to writing this morning--several mornings actually--yet I know how important it is for me to express in some way what is flowing or flying through me and writing also grounds as it is like sending these squiggles deep into Source, Self, like roots of plants that grow and bloom and fruit as long as they stay connected to Gaia, Earth Mother. Our hands, arms, feet and legs are roots. The many hands are roots ... tendrils that connect physically with other life forms and with Gaia, and energetically they represent the need to touch, to connect on whatever level we are being called. To resist this connection, as I was feeling the resistance to contemplative writing, is indeed an 'act of self-will' and is contrary to our creativity. If I were to ignore writing--rooting--too often or for too long, I would end up floating away, never settling, lacking grounding or connection.

She has many hands that weave our paths and it is ours to choose whether to pull a thread loose or to allow the touch, the connection. Ours to choose whether to ignore Her open palm of peace, Her cradling hands of creativity and love, Her comforting hands of prayer and solace. Many hands of choice.

One Heart Dancing

2011-03-16T10:58:00.001-04:00

SoulCards(c)

Dance of the Heart.
Dance of the Veils.
She dances in Joy.
From Joy springs the love of life and the presence of peace that shine clearly through the veil of illusion.
She brings Her wings high and One Heart emerges from the sheltering Love that is spread as She flies through each of our lives and dreams.
All is beauty for within the tears are the salts of new life rising from Gaia.
I feel my heart beat with hers in ancient rhythms, gently we dance and sway, creating a world of loving energy as we move together. I listen to the soft drums echoing our heartbeat, to the whisper of seeds in dry gourds shaken in soulful offering to all that is manifest and ethereal, the sweet melody of the flute floats around us lifting and soaring, its message carried upon the four winds and taken up by the feathered ones who carry their own songs of history and love across field and stream and ocean, dropping notes into the depths where salmon and whale and dolphin receive the offering storing the rhythms within their collective memories and souls for all time as they dance within Her waters.
For a moment, I feel all hearts synchronize upon a single beat and the pure perfection of Oneness is shared by All in Love. Hearts dance and die and are reborn into the beating pulse of Gaia.
She shrugs in discomfort and we poison ourselves and Her. She shrugs and we touch our darker selves, going within from outer situations and open to the lessons, open to Her love. Transformation happens and we ride the tide or struggle against it causing more suffering. Yet Her beating heart, filled with love, is always open and ready to renew. The resonance of Her heart, Her life-blood pumping, can cleanse any transgression.
Her vibrations are Source and therein reside all possibility that is available when we step outside our box of limitations. Energy flows and with the flowing comes a knowing that all is well ... To realize Her love, Her resonance, is a blessing, a tremendous gift of seeing beyond form and within form, to the field of Akashic flowers that bloom whether we see them or not. We open the box, step out, fold it gently and dance upon what was a limiting belief system . . . and the box transforms into the Circle of Life, Her Heart of Love, spiraling and singing itself from nothing to dust to form and back to nothing yet always nothing and everything.
Open our eyes to Her Dance and we join with Her and the veils no longer disguise but reveal The Real.
She is my dance partner and we are One, our hearts beating in Love.
__________________
I love the voice and music of Joanne Shenandoah; after writing, I found the below video . . .

Blood Tears

2011-03-15T14:34:00.000-04:00

SoulCards(c)

I stand in the shadow of a rain of sadness spanning the globe, buffered by Her ocean of Love.
Blood of many in the tear drops that fall upon an open heart accepting the pain and tragedy, breathing out a calm centering settled softly yet solidly in Her embrace.
I stand here, feeling the cascades of grief and allow them to flow, allow the release, feeling the suffering of so many as they cry out . . . and I open and allow them to pass through on their way to renewal.
As the rain of grief and fear flows over me, our blood tears shed freely, I remain supported and buoyed by Her loving presence.
From this space--a centered, core space of compassion not drama--I share healing energy and prayers with and for all those in need as they journey.

spiral dance

2011-03-14T12:59:00.003-04:00

SoulCards(c)

Mother - Daughter.
Intersecting spirals.
From center outward and from external going within.
Thoughts and feelings arise and meet in the center--balance.
Each graceful wave of her arm is a rainbow arching over the world as we find the beauty always here and now, offering love ad healing without becoming caught in the net that is woven of fear and anger.
Streaming. Thoughts flooding my mind, overwhelming the spillways of the earthen dam that allows pause and reflection. Must continue the process so that it all comes out and drains away so as not to stain the chalice where dreams are being built and nurtured.
With focus in short supply, this streaming allows a focus for eyes and hands and mind follows as the ink flows in lovely curves and spirals and "Cristofori's Dream" plays in the background with piano crescendo and then softening, an incredible ebb and flow to which I find myself swaying.

Reminding me of the spirals with their graceful turns and sweeps and how all life is thus when we don't resist, we are carried along into the sweeping waltz of the journey that is beautiful and tragic and the yearning that arises to be with Her as She creates our symphony.
To resonate in perfect harmony, my voice raised with Hers as we are One and seek only love and peace and joy that is so deep it manifests on the other side of the world like the child 'digging a hole to China' . . .
Depth and clarity arise together. We think of depth as dark and clarity as light but they go hand in hand a best friends forever skipping through the field of flowers spreading to infinity. Amazing to feel Her holding my hand yet knowing that in this moment I am perfect in Self. Strange to realize the connection and separation as one and the same in the arc that shoots across sky and neurons and sparks fly out in grand, glorious communication that cannot be stopped only hidden at times by wearing a blindfold.
There is so much more here and now than I can comprehend and the impact can be a scattering such that everything feels like it is falling apart but in reality--the truth not the illusion--transformation is taking place in space and miracles emerge that are simply Truth that is finally seen and embraced. Fully experiencing the mysteries of each moment is our Mother's gift that we all wear within our hearts and souls like the "coat of many colors that my momma made for me" as the song goes and is spectacular.

Flowing, spiraling, join the dance of life however it is manifesting whether waltz or mambo or polka!
The Spiral Dance. Gaia's Dance.

She is Ember

2011-03-13T16:55:00.001-04:00

SoulCards(c)

Within the thin veil that separates us lies the delicate balance of fire and water.
She is partially revealed yet still dormant, encased in ice, suspended from animation, waiting.
Her face confrontational, her gaze direct and confident--compelling.
I stare in wonder and raise a finger to touch Her cheek, feeling the heat behind the glassy surface and my stroke softens . . . leaves a smear of moisture.
For this moment, She neither moves forward nor backs away, lending Her stillness, temporary though it is, to my space of hesitation.
She is Ember--La Chispa.

Thaw

2011-03-12T11:36:00.002-05:00

SoulCards(c)

Aurora Borealis.
Frozen tundra touching mountains of glacial purity.
Crystalline caverns that channel me to Source as She begins Her thaw.
She starts to shiver in shifts that come and go with waves of awareness, yawning chasms emerge.
She feels compassion for the passage of time, knowing the quickening is coming and the deep peace of solitude and silence will fade.
Midnight Sun. Noontime Night.
Shifts.
Night passes by in Her ice blue gown and pink flowing scarves reflecting the warmth that floods Her awakening.
Dawn.
Emerging from hibernation, slow and delicious, waters begin to change from diamonds to tears and trickle down crevices, seep through cracks, moistening, flowing, gaining momentum and creating new channels--new paths.

Such a beautiful SoulCard image and yet my words feel as frozen as the heavy snow that covers the ground outside my window. I enjoy the winter withdrawal, the darkness that envelops me in a warm velvet wrap against the cold that could otherwise be threatening. I love the contrast. From autumn through winter I feel totally in my elements, completely at ease. And yet . . . I need the spring thaw, the summer heat, because otherwise I would sink so easily and lovingly into Her wintry embrace that I might never awaken from my imagination and dreams. I welcome Her cave and experience no depression as I wrap myself in Her cloak of inner exploration. Heaven to lie dormant, still . . . bliss. The snow and cold provide permission to curl upon the couch, cocoon in blankets, sleep long hours, rejuvenate. A short walk in crisp air breathed in deeply expanding lungs to refresh and replace any stagnant air, then back to hearth for more calm and connection. Build a strong inner fire, a light within, during the powerful intense sunlight of summer that will carry me through the long dark nights. Create enough passion to keep the ember glowing, the spark igniting, the candle burning within . . . not a bonfire, just a gentle spreading warmth beneath the surface like Gaia's molten inner core flowing and spinning . . . gently, gently.

Give and Receive

2011-03-11T10:11:00.000-05:00

SoulCards(c)

Sharing.
Giving and receiving.
I hold the precious ember in my arms, given to me by She Who Loves.
I give my Soul to Her for safe-keeping when this body tires of its journey.
She gives to me the flower of creativity . . . glowing, blooming, radiant with the light of all that can be.
I share what I have or know with others and She blossoms throughout the universe.
She comes to me when I am still and graces me with Her inspiration--ideas, dreams, feelings, sensations, all are shared with love.
She shares the spark of hope with all who suffer, all who experience pain or loss, all who endure tragedy.
Gaia is stirring, opening Her floodwaters, shifting and stretching as She cleanses the sweat that has become rancid. She is detoxifying and releasing that which no longer serves Her. She shrugs and we all feel her tension increase and then ease.
I enter Her desert and feel the dry heat open my pores and my passion.
I shower in Her rains and bathe in her lakes and am refreshed.
I climb the mountain to inhale Her clear breath.
I walk through the pine forest to find stillness, and eat of Her offerings natural and abundant, feeling my own body stretch with greater ease, shedding the mental and environ-mental pollutants in peace.
Detox.
And when this is done, I see more clearly Her gifts and my place in Her space; I feel 'la chispa' warming and inspiring--I bring Her light into my Self, welcoming, loving.
All is cyclic, a continuous giving and receiving of energy that flows among our very elemental existence.
Transformation and tragedy share the same dream, the same instant, the same space of Being. I feel the pain come in, hold it, cherish its wisdom, and let it go--free.
Birth and Death.
The ember floats back and forth from Spirit to Form.
Someone created all the objects surrounding and enhancing this elemental life, just as the Infinite brought all life into form. Gratitude wells up for the gifts of creation so abundant all around, and for the bonfire that consumes the no-longer-useful, and the Phoenix rises from the ashes in glorious displays of renewal.
What can be learned from tragedy?
Gaia heaves herself up, straining under the pressures, seeking to regain Her balance just we do.
How many times has She shrugged? How many times has She given birth?
To Infinity.
No ending and no beginning, just giving and receiving, each age an opportunity to experience newness in creative expression wherein lies the heart of wisdom and love.
I embrace 'la chispa' each morning, each moment, and a new vision is created repeatedly, like a mantra, where we give instead of grasp, where we receive instead of rape. I open to manifesting the Truth I see, sharing within the collective, being and becoming step by step.
Gaia, I gratefully accept this gift of Life and Love . . . La Chispa.

Imagine All The People

2011-03-10T10:13:00.000-05:00

SoulCards(c)

We are One and yet of so many forms and species, and within each of us are many facets, many roles we are playing, many personalities and emotions emerging. Macrocosm and microcosm. Reflections upward and downward, within and without. From out of the vast cosmos we express Creation and our Souls manifest from Infinite Spirit where we all reside, healing through the vibrations of Akash as Source sings life into Creation. Celebrate Diversity! We are all children of Infinite Spirit as our feelings are children of Soul - all are loved. All are blessed.
__________________

There is an earlier post of mine titled Imagine, Entering into Joy that I offer in prayer . . .

And, while the video below of the gifted David Archuleta singing John Lennon's incredible "Imagine" is not the full song, David's voice is so pure as it carries the message of peace that I had to share it. Enjoy!

Egg

2011-03-09T09:52:00.004-05:00

SoulCards(c)

Egg.
Fetal.
In my own little world.
"In my own little corner, in my own little chair..."
Weekday mornings are serene and I feel so contented.
Routine is comforting--reassuring--allowing space where there seemed none before . . . before the day takes off and the mundane joys fly in spreading their pleasures around in pieces, I relish the quiet moments of peaceful solitude after the dogs have been out and the cats have been cuddled and all have been fed, then we curl up, each in our own way, and contemplate the sweet connections between and all life.
Stubborn leaves refusing to release flutter dryly outside the window wearing their old brown coats in striking contrast to the deep white snow that shows milk up as yellow.
Toenails click upon oak floors, tap-tapping the path of a dog across the room seeking her spot on the couch. Sitting in modified lotus in the chair that only I like so it is usually available I smile in reflection, watching. Rolling cat, tossing and stretching on her back reaches out to bat the dog's nose gently and a tail wags. One-eyed feline stare wins and the couch remains hers.
Not much to think because this is the quiet time, the non-productive, in-dwelling space of stillness.
Nothing / Everything
Future undetermined and non-affective to the Now.
Egg.
Shell strong or fragile in its delicate degrees of flexibility dependent upon species as it simply holds--the container for what will be or not, whether life will grow or merge back into Gaia for another try later. Fertilized? Have there been enough nutrients? Where is the ember, the spark? Did it ignite? Become that which eats or that which is eaten? Decorated or plain, embellished or simple? Crack or Create?
Where will the journey continue and over what moments will I step to get there?
"Ding!" a distant computer calls out its version of the famous "you've got mail."
Pooka licking his toes noisily.
Sitting. Peace. Breathing in and out, Nadi Shodhana without hands compelling the balance, leading, opening.
Mind starting to scurry. Quiet morning yet already the Big World is reaching its long fingers into my nest, moving the eggs, feeling the weight, measuring the circumference to see where I fit in -- small, medium . . . jumbo?! Will I be removed from the nest before I'm ready? What will be my fate?
To be done to or to emerge from my shell and be the doing? Choices--always. Can I be the egg as well as the actor? What role? Songbird hailed by one and all as remarkable? Turtle with its hard shell and slow-moving manner? Spider weaving her web? Possibilities!
Funny how I have options when I stop to consider--when I pause to reflect, contemplate, and respond from a center openness rather than just react like one of a hundred thousand factory-farm chickens hatched from eggs with no future and with bills snipped and wings clipped and unable to move in a cage so tiny the wire prevents me from turning around . . .
_____________
Where did that last sentence come from? It feels almost angry, certainly frustration bubbling. Interesting how it came only at the very end of the writing, slipped out before the pages ended, like a last ditch effort to be heard. Ian Watson, a wonderful healer, talks about how the most insightful information of a consult can often come at the end when the client's hand is on the door knob and a last remark is tossed out in apparent nonchalance . . . This is one of the absolutely beautiful aspects of contemplative writing or journaling; to become immersed in the process so that unexpected vibrations are heard and energetic shifts occur without conscious direction. Fascinating.

Khepra Catching the Morning Light

And I have to share the following video because while I was writing the song came to me; I prefer the one sung by Lesley Ann Warren but couldn't find the full version of it (although I did find a reprise along with "Impossible" -- and now I'm feeling the need to watch the whole thing). :-) Since LAW's "Cinderella" is the one that 'grew up on', she will always be MY Cinderella and it is her voice I hear when I imagine that song. Anyway, a bit of nostalgia . . . "in my own little corner, in my own little chair"

Finger-Painting

2011-03-08T09:54:00.002-05:00

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin

In a field of dreams, potential in the making in each moment's infinite variables, like a child finger-painting, I dip my fingers into the paint of the elements and creation drips from the tips in changing shades of sunshine, daisies, trees, slate and sandstone, prickly cactus and milkweed pod fluff, and I am falling into eyes of gold, blue, green, brown liquid love. I "paint with all the colors of the wind" and bliss permeates my being and all that I touch. Shall I stroke into being a home of love and job of purpose? Reclining, relaxed, all comes to me as I open to the scents and sensations waiting to be birthed into this moment. Childlike wonder radiates and spreads across the land in a pink haze of perfection for all.
Energy flowing and sharing the knowing, like gypsy feathers blowing in the wind, I am carried into other worlds with Her touch. Eyes closed or open doesn't matter as long as my heart is open and present.
We are laid upon the sand . . . a warm, soft and raspy kitten's kiss . . . and we see the sky in Her blue cape as dandelion puffs float across in front of Her creating designs and dreams and change through hiding and revealing.
I hold up my palm and feel the healing energy within that is waiting for direction, waiting to meld with Akash--the Healing Field--that awaits all of us in every instant. Welcome and accepted, words of healing, hands of healing, vibrations in the forms we believe in and hope we understand yet always just out of grasp in Her true depth.
Sprinkle the sands of time upon our bodies and relax into the flow, experiencing and observing are the same for no separation is possible. Rambling words cross the page as drifting dreams permeate and circulate, easing tension and expectation, drifting desire into a remote cave to ponder and contemplate the moment, this one, and the next that is already passed--the past. Mountains calling in Her cool dry tones of peace as I reach out and feel Her flowing through me.
I don't know where I'm going but the journey is perfect and acceptance brings Her love. Harmony echoes in my Soul, ears a receptacle for more than the notes, the melody, for the symphony of the Universal Wedding is all around as joining occurs at every level of life as One.
I lie upon Gaia within and give birth to all creation of body, mind and spirit.
Raise our hands, reach out, touch, live, dream, and Be in harmonic love as the vibrations wash over us!
Finger-painting flowers of creative energy flowing!
____________________
Listen to "Earth Mother" by Desert Wind (select "Tiny" just to listen to the beautiful words of the song, as the other sizes load a bit slowly on some computers due to the host server)

Symbols

2011-03-07T11:00:00.000-05:00

SoulCards(c)

Teacher says "I can show you symbols--pointers to the infinite mysteries of the universe--but only if your heart is open will you truly see. It is the same with all forms."
We think we have the answers but we don't really for all we do have are more questions and an ego that pretends we know it all. I know nothing. I am nothing. Yet I am All and One and Divine in Being.
If I get distracted by or attached to the symbols, pointers, lessons, people, life . . . then what? These are forms. Can I see within? Self and Form?
Beautiful is the energy flowing within, between, everywhere. Feel it moving and soothing, invisible until it becomes visible, yet visible all along.
Science emphasizes the unknown, the mysteries, for the more we learn the less we know and that is when we have the potential to move into true wisdom, transported to another plane of awareness . . . one that is pure knowing . . . true being . . .
We think that it is our eyes that see but Truth is seen with the Soul, the Heart.
Spirit dwelling within all forms shows itself at all times, from moment to moment, but do we see Spirit?
Teachers guide and gratitude swells for the lessons. Beginning or middle or end of life makes no difference for we learn in every second. Truth speaks to all without prejudice and comes through us in many forms, all from the same core of being and knowing. All Truth is from Source where we dwell in perfect stillness--connected, immersed, touching the Divine and infused with Her.
Forms, symbols, words--illusions meant to help us understand and find our own inner wisdom. The pure Truth that lies within All.
More and more teachers are emerging, sharing, as Her Truth speaks through all of us and we realize our own Divinity needs no intermediary, no bridge--remove the delusion of bridge and we are One. No bridge, no gap, only Being.
Within contemplative writing comes insights and reassurances that are from somewhere True . . . teachers, yes, but also I begin to realize and embrace that what I have learned is what I already know. Truth resonates pure and strong in perfect harmony, needing neither symbol, definition, explanation or direction.

Symbols to Self

Determination

2011-03-06T09:50:00.000-05:00

SoulCards(c)

I stand firm in Her and we say "Let's get going. Let's do this--right here, right now."
She is without procrastination; She is will and determination within.
I love Her sense of solidity--She has planted her Self solidly within the space of confidence and prepares to resolve whatever is necessary. She sees the situation and knows how to act. She brings with Her the wisdom of perception, carried in the Universal Field--Akash--and steps through the doorway into theWorld of Form fully cognizant of Her role and abilities. Her hands settled firmly upon broad motherly, earthy hips, She is ready to create and manifest. I am excited to see Her, to feel Her solid and determined within, providing direction and clarity.
She combines Earth with Fire to build action--grounded determination as She steps from the Space and Air of ideology into the world of the concrete, the will supported by practicality.
She is a feminine force to be reckoned with as She encourages firmly from a space of stillness, love and knowing . . . "You can do this."
Firm. Solid. Loyal. Determined.
I feel Her moving within, motivating, helping me to achieve goals.
I feel like I can accomplish anything I need to in the world with Her as guide and teacher. She is of the world--elemental and pure. She is kind yet a little pushy! She is the mother wearing Nike's saying "Just do it!"
She is the farm wife with Her steady gaze, strong hands, no-nonsense manner, and love as deep as the well she helped dig to bring sweet waters to the surface for long life and prosperity. She is the hearth of stone that is central to survival in the long dark winters. She is full partner and relied upon for Her wisdom seated in common sense.
She is the ancient grandmother we all revere as ancestress for She resides within the space of action in our world and is always accessible. She is as near as the ground beneath my feet and the fire in my belly. She doesn't hide or whimper, but calls to me when I need to 'pull myself up by my boot-straps' -- shake the dust off -- wake up and get it done, whatever 'it' may be.
She is the Spirit of my Great Aunt Bertha; seven husbands, ran a tavern, took in her niece and grand-niece, tossed out drunks, loved fiercely, survived a fire but lost some fingers, and pulled no punches.
She is a Survivor.
She is the Spirit that dwells within and emerged to help in leaving an abusive husband.
She is determination personified.
She is Determined Woman--I love, honor and thank Her.

Boundaries

2011-03-05T17:30:00.000-05:00

SoulCards(c)

Too much!
Wait!
I am in bliss, in this moment, perfect, so please wait!

The world tries to rush in with its complexities and demands and that's okay--that's the world--but I can choose, sometimes, and I can choose now.
Boundaries.
Setting them . . . keeping them . . . honoring them for Self and others.
Boundaries.
When to allow and when to stand fast.
When to be firm in how I feel most loving and loved.
As I move and grow, change and remain the same, so does the world, so do those around me.
It's okay to pull away and BE.
To realize my own needs in order to be whole-hearted to others and available for loving care and guidance.
To understand the difference between helping and rescuing.
Boundaries.
Rescue for those unable to make their own choices.
Help for those who walk their own paths and are entitled to make their own choices.
Boundary awareness helps me and helps them.
To realize how not to step over the line . . . or at least to realize I did it.
Boundaries.
They can be gray and fuzzy and difficult to identify . . .
They can be emblazoned in shocking hunter-orange for all to see!
Do I step over? Does a lesson await me? Am I helping?
Or am I seeking through Ego to impose my will upon another?
And what about someone crossing the line into my space--my life?
How much do I allow or disallow?
Did I invite them in consciously or unconsciously?
Or did they put on their waders and decide that "come hell or high water" they were going to "save" me?
Do I need to remain gentle or roar like a lioness?
Wait.
Don't react.
Pause and respond after a moment of calm reflection--contemplation.
Sometimes only an inhale is required and the answer needs no introduction but just is.
She helps me see the line that has been crossed and how to heal the trespass for both of us.
My boundaries are for my path, not for someone else, but there may be overlapping whether intentional or not.
Criss-cross highways . . . with overpasses and underpasses and detours leading to who-knows-where.
Do I see the patterns?
The intricate maps of interconnected lives that we experience, blindly at times.
But open my eyes--see the boundaries.
Honor them.
Boundaries manifest for good reason and only to be ignored in those very special circumstances that come into our awareness when we travel with wide-open heart and far-seeing eyes.
Boundaries.

Hungry Hands

2011-03-04T10:06:00.002-05:00

SoulCards(c)

In my dreams, I touch the Infinite and She shows me the present moment, pure and calm.
Leaves of flame and hands without names, we all rest in Her and depend upon her for our existence . . . simple, changing.
In my dreams, my Self is free to see beyond the forms of our physical life and to realize the hunger, the need, of so many reaching out in confusion and fear. Hands in need, begging, calling out for guidance to grow, asking to learn, yearning to be taught instead of told, old ways returning with fiery truth glowing through Her leaves of gold and burning away the stagnant air of compressed hearts releasing love and creativity with honor.
I release my dreams into reality and they bloom, grow, into a depth of knowing reaching for the sky to feed the hungry hands.
I feel flutters of anxiety, calmed by knowing that all this is a play on a stage and the scenes can change in an instant but I am still me. She is within and we will be fine. All is well.
Abundance always, all around. Lack is only a perception of world that can be given the boot and set aside for the illusion it is. Certainly, less and more are relative in the world, but they are malleable, changing constantly with or without our consent. But true abundance, fulfillment, knowing that this moment in Self is enough, flares like the sun shouting out the dawning. Momma Plenty brings her basket of goodies and sprinkles stardust upon my heart until it overflows.
In my dreams, I feed the need of Self and the hungry hands with Her bounty. And when we are full, peace permeates our world spreading through the universe like a gentle breeze kissing all life into stillness . . . and infinite echo of eternity for an instant or always.
All is well--plenty--enough.
Movement comes in and we play, trying on the clothes of new roles or old ones or borrowing for a glimpse of growth.
Change is welcome and I reach out to hold hands with Her as the weaving continues . . . I touch the thread, hold the loom steady, spin the coarse fiber, stitch tightly or loosely, creating a cloak of rainbow and clouds, leaves and feathers, snowflakes and emeralds, fur and skin and bone, the moon in one hand, the sun in the other, and I rest in Gaia for we are One . . . changing yet always the same. Abundant.
_____________
Before drawing the card . . .

Spinning, weaving, the threads of my life interwoven with another and another. Here we are, traversing the path at different paces, one steps off and other pauses, waiting, honoring, loving, accepting, and warmly welcomes the return. All is well. Time is irrelevant for growth is occurring and change is happening within the tapestry we create. Now--all is well. Each moment to unfold, each thread that unravels will betaken up and re-woven into a new design, eternally creating. In this moment, all is well. Step b step, thread by thread.

As I finish writing, there is a song I recall, shared with me by a beautiful soul . . . I share it with you here . . . "Weave and Mend" . . .

Lyrics:
Old woman is watching, watching over you
In the darkness of the storm, she is watching
She is weaving, mending, gathering the colours
She is watching over you

Chorus
So weave and mend
Gather the fragments safe
And win the sacred circle sisters
Weave and mend, weave and mend,
Oh women, weave and mend

Old woman is weaving, gathering the threads
Her bones become the loom she is weaving,
She is watching, weaving, gathering the colours
She is watching over you

Chorus

For years I’ve been watching, waiting for old woman
Feeling lost and so alone, I’ve been watching.
Now I find her weaving, gathering the colours
Now I find her in myself

Written by Mary Trup; Sung by Frances Black

Portals

2011-03-03T10:54:00.000-05:00

SoulCards(c)

through a portal
emerging
reassurance
trust in love
boundaries clear
lighten up
be in faith
open invitation
intuitive caution
balance
grace

_______________
This morning, as I took the remaining Soul Cards off the shelf where they were cuddled next to books of spiritual guides and inspirational quotes, I felt deep gratitude for the wisdom people share through words but also thankful for the gift of Soul Cards and other visual, tactile or imaginal portals into my own words . . . my own sensation and expression of the Divine.

Blue Grotto Within

2011-03-02T09:31:00.002-05:00

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin

When I feel like I'm chasing my tail, I hear Her voice, Self voice . . . "slow down."

Crazy whirling busy-ness of life, the pace can escalate, frantic thoughts and emotional panic, and--pause--a deep breath--calm--the spiral slows, eases, no longer out of control and spinning wildly.
Contemplation, even for the space of an inhale and exhale. Release.
And not only is it Her voice I hear but all voices, the clamor for peace is deafening and I send universal vibrations that connect us all. Who among us has never felt the tornado whipping around their insides or driving them to distraction externally? I see my own path and calmly soothe the strands with cooling coconut oil, massaging the heat out of the tense knots, and feel the relaxing of panic and fear. Adrenalin rush slows. The balance of cold and hot is a blessedly warm embrace and I am fine. Not too slow do I spin so as to fall into the pit of depression, not so fast that bits are flying off in all directions. Balance.
And, instead of chasing my tail trying to catch what cannot be caught, I am nourished and nurtured through the gentle waves sweeping over me, the sea calm.

The darkness begins to lighten into a deep iridescent blue and then azure gleams with sparkles of light as I swim in Her crystal clear presence. She is not a being 'out there' but within--Self--for we are One, not separate. My Beloved is within and so our ocean of love is complete in and of itself, and I swim with all of Life . . . joined.
Dawn breaks on the horizon as I emerge from the grotto where light mysteriously shines without a source because She is Light and always here showing the way. When within the Blue Grotto I can see more clearly my spiral, this life I am living, this thread that is me woven, waving like the seaweed gently to and fro, tangling when storm-tossed or softly swaying in gentle currents of loving motion that is my own true nature.
And I see this. All our natures are same yet not. The currents are clear, the vibrations I transmit are unique to this form I swim in, as gloriously individual as river is from ocean and yet we are all the same Source. I am a lake or a river or an expansive sea. I have a calm reflective surface or bubbling white foam churning around boulders or crashing waves. Yet I am still no different from all, only appearing unique within the infinite manifestations of life.
My spiral, the thread of what is me, is the journey of soul within this form. Yet knowing now the One-ness, the interconnectedness of us all, no, more than connected--ONE--is beautiful and brings tremendous peace. So when I see myself, chasing my tail, eating my Self, I feel the strength of Source in our Blue Grotto, for and of us all, to pause . . . breathe . . . tread water a moment . . . float on my back, buoyant, lifted and supported until the calm permeates every fiber.
______________
The Blue Grotto on the Isle of Capri is remarkable. As I sank into this contemplative writing, I was transported back to those moments decades ago within this ethereal womb of Gaia.

And, for those of you who join me for the love of all beings furry...

Phoenix Sunbathing Tuesday Morning

She Calls Out

2011-03-01T11:27:00.001-05:00

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin

She calls out the light in the dark of night, in purple mountain silhouettes that harken to castles of old where all retreated to safety, Her walls strong and rugged, Her stone solid and secure. She is never gone, always here, right here, beneath my feet, Her solid stone of fortress and abode. Sand castles reflect the macro and lend vision to knowing we are all One in Her as the tiny grains are mountains to creatures so tiny my eye cannot perceive yet I know they are there climbing their own mountains that trickle through my fingers as my life flows through Hers. She is the voice of the Infinite tat sings out our manifestations of myriad variety. Purple mountains like the chain of history that are worn and old or young and new or ground into sand. All the same in Her--all One. To see the elements in how they share their spirit with me through forms I touch is incredible--marvelous beyond measure. Still, I have to remind myself sometimes that I lose nothing and gain everything when change occurs--transformation is not loss unless I dwell upon and cling to the previous form. I close my eyes and can feel the subtle form still here, still with me, still near in space if not time, like the sand remains the mountain. A speck . . . seen from distance, mountains are bumps and ridges like the dry skin on my knuckles in winter that roughens and cracks. But bring love, lubrication, moisture and soften, elements melding, soothing the ridges, rounding the sharp edges into a soft bed of tissue, of earth, where the touch becomes the love, the nest, the gentle embrace. She calls out to change.

-------and then through the image She calls to another view, a shift in perception---------

Red sun, black sky, laser glowing through Her mouth, opening to the need for intense transformation. Signs. Within night dwells the dreams of future and terrors of past, or vice versa, and Her light transforms both into growth. Sky broad and dark and wildly spinning tornado across the land as She feels the need to create through destruction because all is One and to have the new something else must die, must give way, must recede in this elemental world that exists in the space of illusion. She cries out her anger in the blazing red sun “How could you do this to me?” Yet those are my words, my anger, my fear, my frustration with what humans are doing, how we are neglecting our duty, how we don’t honor Her. She is reflecting back to us that which we have created. A storm rages, we say, but we are the raging and she is simply the storm of re-creation. Gaia is the ultimate mirror and the infinite Creatrix.

___________________

I wrote the following before I drew this morning’s Soul Card (blind draw, as always):

I sit under the sky and touch the Sun and know without a doubt we all are One. As I look out at the thick blanket of snow, caves forming under its many layers, pockets of space and dark within the bright white, I know we are all One. Pine needles that separate from their brothers are joined at their base to Her, in Her, and we are all One. We stretch up while grounding and we are all connected. We are One.

Before Birth

2011-02-28T10:51:00.000-05:00

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin

Sun rising behind Her glowing,
heralding a new day.
Feel the beginning in the damp earth
as Her water breaks before birth.
Shivers running up and down spine,
cool breath on this nape of mine.
BLISS

Smile

2011-02-27T22:39:00.000-05:00

SoulCards(c) Deborah Koff-Chapin

When I let go, She smiles with me and within me and joyfulness is everywhere setting me free! How could I ever stress out when She is smiling?! And She is always smiling somewhere, in some way, through one or many of Her miracles of life . . . creatures, plans, landscapes so magnificent that I gasp or so exquisite that I sigh in ecstasy and Her loveliness surrounds and envelops me in Love! Feeling pressure at times that is so unnecessary. Gaia isn't stressing in spite of what we do to Her for She simply IS and she responds to heal self and others perfectly and beautifully and sometimes intensely. Her guiding moon and shining sun beaming energy and life throughout my soul, singing in every cell and dancing within my bones. Silly me, to worry about a little dust on the cabinet or hair under the bed or messy pillows on the couch or dirt on the floor when all is a a part of Her and the wonderful creatures who share my home and kiss away my tears and tug me out of bed in the mornings or jolly me out of a dastardly doldrum that snuck up on me unaware. She is smiling and so am I. Let's laugh through the pressures we put upon ourselves and SMILE. All will turn out exactly as it is meant to be and a little non-perfection is perfect! All I can hum is "zippity-doo-dah" and "what a wonderful world" and skip along among imaginary flowers lining the banks of a babbling brook with its glimmering water from her light of golden rays or moonbeams of silver and smile. For life is what we make it and whether there are pebbles along the path or detours around avalanches of overwhelming obstacles, She is within, holding my hand or singing in my ear and my heart feels lighter for Her presence and before I realize, I am smiling with Her in each moment of total contentment.

Lyrics:
Old woman is watching, watching over you In the darkness of the storm, she is watching She is weaving, mending, gathering the colours She is watching over you Chorus So weave and mend Gather the fragments safe And win the sacred circle sisters Weave and mend, weave and mend, Oh women, weave and mend Old woman is weaving, gathering the threads Her bones become the loom she is weaving, She is watching, weaving, gathering the colours She is watching over you Chorus For years I’ve been watching, waiting for old woman Feeling lost and so alone, I’ve been watching. Now I find her weaving, gathering the colours Now I find her in myself Written by Mary Trup; Sung by Frances Black