The Powers of Green

Leaning

Oops! The heavy rains have caused a lot of flooding and the Finley River down below has once again flooded the bottoms...and is causing a power pole to lean quite a bit.

Stone and Flora

We hope to create a lush haven in the area of our small stone terraced beds; many more hosta are needed, as well as other shade-loving plants. The steep hill to its far side needs a hardy ground cover.

Most of our small property consists of this steep, rocky slope; very few places are level, and nearly all areas are in shade once spring has done its dance of leafing.

We will take our time and do our best. It's been many years since previous owners provided much in the way of TLC to either house or property. May our efforts be blessed.

I am, however, inspired by today's post "April Showers" over at the Vicki Lane Mysteries blog, showing areas of her farm in North Carolina bedecked by lush greenery!

On Not Knowing

I follow the moving and evocative Brain Pickings, and today's post is one I am compelled to share. Both the reflection on Inspiration, and the reference to how damaging Certainty can be, spoke to me in Maria Popova's How Our Certitudes Keep Us Small and the Generative Power of Not Knowing, using Polish Poet and Nobel Laureate Wislawa Szymborska's words as a doorway. Beautiful!

Meanwhile, back at the homestead, hubby and I spent the weekend outdoors cleaning away massive amounts of dead leaves and tidying up the neglected beds with an eye toward where to settle new plants in a couple weeks. Because our house is on a steep, rocky hillside, and surrounded by wild, tangly woods -- which I do totally love; once the trees leaf out, three sides of the house are snuggled in a green nest -- our challenge is to find resilient, hardy plants that thrive on limited sunshine.

At the end of an earlier post HERE, I had included photos from the back deck, that were from August and January. Below is one from this past weekend (taken from same spot); I delight in how our view continues to change through the seasons in our new home. While the trees are still bare from winter's hibernation, the fields across the bottoms have become verdant and magnificent, rather than brown.

April 2017

Intentions

One of my intentions for this year is to provide more posts on my HolistiCARE blog, so I invite readers to pop over there for a visit once in a while if you are curious. I will be mentioning specific remedies or methods, as well as educational resources, about those modalities in which I've been trained.

I'm also hoping to start growing some fresh food-herbs now that I'm living in a moderate climate. I've never had much of a "green thumb," but perhaps the Ozarks will be kind to me in that respect. If it is, I will post the uses of those herbs that do grow, and how I incorporate them into our meals. I'm a modest, non-adventuresome cook, but this may turn out to be a curious journey nevertheless.

Spring is right around the corner, and a new season awaits. But meanwhile, I enjoy the ability to see the sunset for a while longer; once the trees get their leaves, the sun only peeks through.

Roots, Vines, and Religious Liberty

As I settle into our new home in the southwestern Missouri Ozarks, I’m embraced by trees and vines and roots, by bloodlines and history, by two hundred years of cellular community. Do the trees protect or isolate? Do the vines support or choke? Do the roots nourish or taint? How does any of this help me become stronger and more compassionate? 

I turn to the wisdom of nature and the beauty of landscape for messages of growth and healing. I step into new communities and listen with my heart. I invite the past to share its journey through story. 

I’m reading like mad, as usual, and one of my absolute favorite books has been Founding Faith: How Our Founding Fathers Forged a Radical New Approach to Religious Liberty by Steven Waldman.* Founding Faith is a gorgeous distillation of America’s process toward religious freedom, and a good reminder for all of us right now not to persecute a religion because of extremists within it. Founding Faith is one of those books that, if I were one to highlight pivotal phrases or “ah-ha!” moments, would be a text of almost exclusive yellow markings. This means I find it nearly impossible to narrow my focus and provide only a few quotes, so the blurb from the back of the book will have to suffice in wetting your appetite: 

“The culture wars have distorted the dramatic story of how Americans came to worship freely. Many activists on the right maintain that the United States was founded as a “Christian nation.” Many on the left contend that the First Amendment was designed to boldly separate church and state. Neither of these claims is true, argues Beliefnet.com editor in chief Steven Waldman. With refreshing objectivity, Waldman narrates the real story of how our nation’s Founders forged a new approach to religious liberty. 

Founding Faith vividly describes the religious development of five Founders. Benjamin Franklin melded the Puritan theology of his youth and the Enlightenment philosophy of his adulthood. John Adams’s pungent views on religion stoked his revolutionary fervor and shaped his political strategy. George Washington came to view religious tolerance as a military necessity. Thomas Jefferson pursued a dramatic quest to “rescue” Jesus, in part by editing the Bible. Finally, it was James Madison who crafted an integrated vision of how to prevent tyranny while encouraging religious vibrancy.”

 This book is one that I wish everyone would read; with excellent information (massive amounts of footnotes and extensive bibliography to follow up on any details) and beautiful flow to the writing and layout (resulting in a fast read), it also provides common ground for people to meet each other in conversation. 

An acquaintance on Facebook recently told me, after a brief chat clearly showed our political differences of opinion, that we needed to stop before the dialogue could damage our friendship. A few years ago, I would have agreed wholeheartedly with that comment. But now, I find myself wondering if that’s where our political system has gone haywire? Is that part of what has led to such tremendous polarization? If friends and family cannot participate in civil conversation, and respect each other across and through our differences, how can we expect politicians to do so?

The seasons change, the wheel of life turns, and new visions emerge within and without … below are two photos from nearly the same angle and location on our deck, yet the view is so different. Time and awareness can change everything.

August 2015

January 2016

__________

*I bought Founding Faith after listening to “Liberating the Founders,” an interview with Waldman by On Being with Krista Tippett. If you don’t have time to listen to the hour-long podcast, even just skimming the transcript is a delight. 

Where is home?

“A track is not the shape of a foot; it is the shape of a foot in the ground.” ~ Mary Pipher

The above sentence clarifies my sense of the path I’ve already travelled as well as the one that remains in front of me. It reveals a vital image of context. My tracks are not just mine but encompass where I have placed my feet. And the image also provides discernment toward where next to step, because I will leave my imprint in that place while also receiving its imprint upon me.

Pipher reflects upon how “place is identity” when she refers to a painting and interprets the artist’s message to be that, “we are landscape internalized. Our souls are etched with the geography of a particular place.” Every place I’ve lived has done this, has etched itself upon my soul. A new place will do this, too.

It is difficult if not impossible to separate culture(1) from community(2). Because community is a place that is inhabited by people (in this instance, though, I also know the power of being in community with beings of the more-than-human world), those people bring with them their culture. My personal yearning for a specific place in which to feel at home is by its very nature tied to whoever lives there and what their beliefs are.

While I am simply an American moving from one state to another within the same country, reading Mary Pipher’s book The Middle of Everywhere: Helping Refugees Enter the American Community has provided tremendous perspective. Pipher’s book is eye-opening and heart-breaking; she says that “it is difficult to describe or even imagine the challenges of getting started in a new country.” Not only do refugees and immigrants have to decide how much of their traditional culture they want to maintain, while also building a new life and community in a foreign country (and concurrently learning a new language), they are also dealing with past trauma that is nearly incomprehensible to me. I’m grateful for the blessings of being an American and having access to so many diverse resources, and Pipher’s book offers lessons in compassion as well as resilience.

I have spent a lifetime shying away from conflict and yet, not surprisingly, still find myself occasionally in the midst of it in one way, shape or form. Pipher says that, “Community does not mean ‘free of conflict.’ It’s inevitable and even healthy to have great differences. Diversity in community is as healthy as diversity in any ecosystem. Without diversity in age, ethnicity, and ideas, we don’t have communities; we have lifestyle enclaves. Even conflict can lead to closeness.” I find myself wondering if this is true. Can conflict indeed lead to closeness? I try to recall examples of this in my own life but come up empty; maybe I need to spend more time on this one. However, I don’t see that diversity has to result in conflict. Am I naive?

I am encouraged by Pipher’s expression of how cultures can flow, because it reflects my own desire to understand all sides of a situation. She says: 

“Cultural traditions are not set in stone. Cultures are not monolithic. Rather, they are processes, or sets of negotiations between members. Cultures are practical, active, and creative responses to specific conditions. They are constantly changing, and within any given culture there are many points of view and many different groups and members. 

“Culture isn’t the property of just the leaders or the powerful. The right to interpret the cultural values doesn’t belong to any one group. It is important to ask whose interests are sever and whose are violated by a tradition. Who profits from maintaining the status quo in a culture? Who stands to gain with change?”

The above is great to ponder because it invites into the conversation the theories of cultural evolution. These theories, in turn, provide new ways of looking at the difficult and sometimes violent gaps between the Northern and Southern cultures of America.

The further we move into a global society, I agree with Pipher that “we need a home to hold our lives in place” because I have felt this deep need in my bones the older I’ve gotten. Pipher quotes Bill Holm: “The love of your own country hasn’t to do with foreign politics, burning flags, or the Maginot Line against immigrants at the border. It has to do with light on a hillside, the fat belly of a local trout, and the smell of new-mown hay.” This emphasizes how important individual landscapes and their communities are to our identity. America is a huge country, populated over hundreds of years by immigrants from diverse cultures who created their own unique communities. Many of these original communities have all but vanished, and those of us who moved away during our youths can often feel like we are displaced or culturally-bereft when it comes to specifics. Pipher goes on to say that “The refugee experience of dislocation, cultural bereavement, confusion, and constant change will soon be all of our experience. As the world becomes globalized, we’ll all be searching for home. There are two intertwined components to home: people and place.” 

I seek somewhere I can call home again. 

Me with Mom, younger brother, and new puppy in Missouri in the late 1960's

___________

1 Culture is defined as: “the customs, arts, social institutions, and achievements of a particular nation, people, or other social group” and “the attitudes and behavior characteristic of a particular social group.” [Apple Dictionary]

2 Community is defined as: “ a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common” and “a particular area or place considered together with its inhabitants.” [Apple Dictionary]

Changes Coming

I say to the southwest landscape

"Soon, you will be a memory."

I bless the space where I live

"Thank you for your gifts."

I turn my gaze northeast and hear

"Your roots will guide you."

Within The Creases

His DNA is in the creases,

in flecks of skin that fell.

Open the pages and feel a life

that once was here. Tell

me his dreams, crooked symbols

marking fading paper we've both seen-- 

whisper stories of past and present

and futures where our minds have been.

My cells blend with his, 

my finger turns the page, 

waiting for another generation

to join us in imagination. 

I recently got home from a several-week trip to Missouri, where I helped Mom settle into a retirement community. There, she has a beautiful back yard, but one that she isn't responsible for maintaining. Dad died in 2008 and Mom was finally ready to sell the last home they bought together. This one is her house, and I wanted to help her unpack, to lend my love and support to this huge endeavor. May she be happy in her new place.

During the unpacking, we came across a couple of boxes of old books, vintage books. One of the rare things that Dad and I had in common was a love of books. I'm grateful that he had kept these boxed books during the past five decades as he and Mom moved around the country and stored them while they were overseas. A few were familiar, like 1955 copies of Black Beauty and Heidi, those were Mom's, and even the worn Camp Fire Girls Go Motoring published in 1916 by Hildegard G. Frey. I remembered reading those. The unfamiliar in the thirty or so dusty volumes included an 1888 copy of Tom Temple's Career that I cannot imagine reading, and a 1906 edition of Jack London's The Sea-Wolf that I'm looking forward to reading. I'm researching how to keep several dozen of these books from deteriorating further; they aren't of monetary value, rather they are priceless. Mom agreed that both of my brothers would approve of me becoming the Keeper of the Books. So I am. I'm taking it seriously. Until the day that a niece or nephew, or one of their children, might express a devotion to books and ask to be the Keeper.

The dogwoods and redbuds were in full glorious bloom during my visit, a beautifully cool, moist spring. I was born two hours south of where Mom now lives, and when I drive through the Ozarks I smile at the memories.

Coming Up

Tucson is warming up rapidly and, as we head into summer, I just have to say that I am ecstatic to be nearly finished with this semester at UA. Okay, sure, it was only two classes but they've been intense for me. I'd been semi-retired and mostly on my own schedule for about eight years prior to attending college, so trying to organize my life around classes and homework has been challenging. And exhausting. So, yup … ecstatic is the right word!

What's coming up? First, I plan on reconnecting with some of my favorite bloggers, email-pals, and family. I'll be getting back to my WIPs, and I also have a few additional self-created projects I'm looking forward to.

One of the projects is that I'm immersing myself for the next year (or however long it takes) in the complete works of Marion Woodman and Emily Dickinson to see what emerges. Some of the writings from this immersion will be here, but some of the more contemplative pieces will appear on my On The Gaia Path blog.

The other project is a home project. As I continue to struggle with living in the Sonoran Desert, especially during the summer, I've decided to create a haven in one room that will evoke the opposite qualities. As a contrast to the dry, hot, sparse, and muted colors of the Southwest, I'm going to buy a table-top fountain or two and use deep tones of blue, green, and purple. I'm also going to get lots of silk plants (I cannot get real ones until one of my plant-fanatic cats is gone which may be a few more years yet!) for visual effect. Our house is, otherwise, decorated in a style that "fits" the Southwest, but I need one room to hide in that is the opposite. I need it to feel lush, soft, and dark. I'm sure you get the basic idea and I think it will be fun and different.

Down the line, there will probably be some road-trips as well, but not until I've recovered my energy!

So, see you soon as my time frees up to visit your blogs.

now we rest

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

the rest of us can relax,

and curl up . . .

with a good book!

in the beginning

In the beginning were the animals... well, at least in MY beginning. I still have my stuffed toy puppy-dog from my crib, and from then on it seems like there was always an animal around me! They are my joy and my solace. I finally completed each one of my current companion's web page so thought I'd share that bit of personal information in case you wanted to hop over and meet them at KITSNK9S! The image here is my beloved Kiki; long gone but never forgotten.

Mankind's true moral test, its fundamental test (which lies deeply buried from view), consists of its attitude towards those who are at its mercy: animals. And in this respect mankind has suffered a fundamental debacle, a debacle so fundamental that all others stem from it.

Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

I'm Home!

Yes, I'm home once more. And will be staying home for a while! What with having been gone so much for Kripalu School of Ayurveda, and then with some flower essence workshops, and most recently visiting my Mom in Missouri, I do believe that I'm done traveling for a while.

However, the recent trip to Missouri was wonderful all the way around! I was in the mood for a Road Trip, so decided to take the Prius and drive to/from Mom's house. These long solo journeys are incredibly fulfilling; I listen to some music but mostly to lectures, and completely let go of everything except being in the moment. Two years ago, I mostly listened to Eckhart Tolle, last year I was absorbing Ian Watson, and this year's passage was enhanced by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. Because I hadn't been through these states for a while, I dropped down to go through northern West Virginia and Kentucky -- glorious countryside. Coming home, I took the upper route of Ohio and New York; again, great weather and beautiful scenery. The actual driving time - minimum - is 25 hours so it did take me three full, long days each direction, but the solitude and views were well worth the extra time.

I'd become quite taken with staying in bed-and-breakfasts while traveling, and this trip was the same. Two of these b&b's were particularly memorable! On the trip out, I stayed with Maggie and Larry at the Serene View Farm B&B in Pennsylvania. I could have stayed for days at Serene View; tucked away in the countryside, the peace and quiet was delightful, the grounds fabulous, and the hospitality warm, welcoming and family-like. Coming home, I stayed for a second time with Chris and Leon at the Bellinger Rose B&B in New York. Chris and Leon are awesome hosts, the rooms are breathtakingly beautiful and comfortable, plus, and this is a huge bonus for me and one of the reasons that I chose to stop again this year at the Bellinger Rose, Chris gives amazing massages -- just imagine the bliss of receiving a luxurious evening massage after a day of driving, right before bed so that you literally walk from the massage table upstairs to your room and are sound asleep within minutes! Ahhhh, heavenly. Both provided excellent, full meal breakfasts that tasted totally yummy -- and both even have dogs on the premises! I can highly recommend these two spectacular b&bs!

And the visit with Mom was wonderful, of course. Lots of love, and hugs, and the kind of easy conversation that only comes with family relationships built upon happy childhood memories. One day we spent with my nieces, brother and his wife in St. Louis after having picked up my youngest niece McKayla to visit one of the many caves of Missouri - Onondaga. Spectacular! We also drove further south to spend a night with long-time friends; their kids and us grew up together, even taking several vacations together to Colorado and the East Coast. They're really more like family than friends! On the way back from visiting those friends, I wanted to swing by and see my childhood home -- where I recall my first memories. Oddly, the place was for sale so we were able to walk around the vacated property; extensive renovations were done in 2003, so the place looked great and that was so rewarding to see. I still can't believe how drawn I was to this former home; its energy remained with me during my journey back here. Powerful.

So, a fantastic trip and visit! I'm very grateful for the way everything fell into place so that I could make this happen -- Ron took care of the kitsnk9s in my absence, as he always does when I travel, and did his usual fabulous job. So many blessings in this life.

skating on towels

On my knees, the phrase "wax on, wax off" from “Karate Kid” pops into my mind. Muscles flex and relax -- thank goodness for the arm strengthening of 'down dog' as I feel the cooperation of flesh and bone -- and my fingers tighten on the handle of the scrub brush. I glance to where I've been and smile at the glistening tile. If it weren't for Phoenix, the little stinker, I would only have to use the mop and could stand up to clean the floor! LOL He spends his spare minutes licking the 'lines' where the grout is between the tile, over time leaving behind a streak of dirt because that canine saliva is kind of sticky! Then, standing up to mop is a break for my back (instead of breaking my back) plus it’s much easier to dance to "Fujiama Mama" and "Dynamite" by the incomparable Wanda Jackson and Brenda Lee! This mop pole is made for an average size person, so my height doesn't lend itself as easily to the job as I'm always bent over just a bit more than is comfortable; maybe if I close my eyes and imagine a tall dance partner? But the really fun part follows as I skate across the floor with raggedy drying towels beneath my feet! Hmm. I think Pippi Longstocking had more fun with this... I am in total housecleaning mode this week, relishing the full-spectrum results - albeit perhaps not the work itself - as compared to the spot-cleaning I’ve been doing. After almost a year of intense studying in addition to being gone for extended periods of time, I've come home. Literally, and very physically, on this warm summer day.

a lesson in flexibilitty

This past weekend, I was reminded of the importance of flexibility...

Friday, the lovely delphiniums at the center of one of the flower gardens were nearly seven feet tall! One had blossomed out entirely, while the other stalks were starting up their stems. Alas, we had torrential rains along with the thunderstorms and all but one delphinium broke (the one that didn't was a young one, the stem still bendy). I was sad for them and that I wouldn't get to see them all in full bloom -- and annoyed that I hadn't taken a photo of them last week when the hot weather had them joyously straining up to the sky! However, I did go out and bring the salvageable ones inside so that we could enjoy their beauty for a little while longer. The cats thought they were interesting, although I think they found the bug that rode in even more fun!

Woop-woop

Ron was mean. Okay, maybe not "mean" in the true context of the word. He was teasing me. :-) Here's the story...

We're at our favorite little restaurant (krista's in Cornish, ME) for breakfast this morning. We sat at one of our usual tables (yes, we're 'regulars' -- we have a 'date' there almost every Saturday morning where we catch up on the past week, and reconnect our energies for the coming weekend time spent happily together, but I digress...) -- this time I was sitting with my back to the wall so that I could see out the window to watch the river (whose waters are SO low right now due to the extreme heat and the lack of recent rainfall), when Ron glances over my shoulder and, with a straight face, says "oh, the woop-woop is gone". I gasped and whipped my head around at about 90 MPH -- I could have injured myself! He busted out laughing, and then I laughed, too, in huge relief, because the "woop-woop" was still there, hanging on the wall as usual. The backstory is that I fell in love with this piece of artwork as soon as I saw it -- must have been at least a year ago -- and a few months back I asked Krista if she would please give me first right of refusal if she ever decided to sell it (she sells other pieces of art hanging on the walls, but this one was done for her by a friend, and the creature is called a woop-woop). Every time I see the woop-woop, I feel silly and happy and full of child-liked delight! Anyway, I share this lovely little fella with all of you this morning so that you can enjoy the "woop-woop", too! LOL

Nice parking job Hun

We ran to the grocery store for a quick shopping spree, and this was Ron's photo and comment. I ask you. What's wrong with THAT?! ;-p

i see you

More than the others, she now relies upon routine to ease her anxiety. Unable to hear and often confused, structure and routine are reassuring, the patterns that allow her to continue through each moment with a residual semblance of grace and connection. Routine establishes connection with the world around her, guiding her through the flow as her senses and mind release their vibrations as her soul moves toward freedom. The passage of time is non-existent for her, there is and always has been only the now, the present, but ‘now’ has become expanded, ethereal and difficult to grasp this year. Routine brings shape to the slippery present.

Sleep when it comes is deep and peaceful, a release from the insecurity of a nebulous now; her muscles become slack, her breathing almost imperceptible, her energy smooth and slow. It is in striking contrast to her waking state. Always a nervous individual, her worry as increased with age, varying from pacing aimlessly to crying as if lost, from tentative attempts to be noticed to outright obnoxious behavior. Meal times are crazy and chaotic because this is a vital part of her routine, an instinctual drive for survival that often seems to take on a life of its own filled with panic and frenzy. She is better then, for a while, able to relax and observe without so much tension, and often lays down in apparent total exhaustion. She adores being hugged and touched and really seen. I realized a year or so ago that it was especially important to her for me to stop what I was doing and give her my full, complete attention for a few minutes on a regular basis ... to tell her that I did see her. To let her know that I know she’s still here ... like she needs the external love and reassurance that, yes, her body is still here in the world of form and that she’s not only spirit ... not yet. She’s so sweet yet needy - a simple acknowledgement of her presence lights up her entire being.

She has taught me patience, awareness, love, an insight into the gradual aging process -- how small details can really matter and make a big difference. Compassion. That I don’t have to understand what is going through someone else’s mind to feel compassion and express compassion. That I don’t have to know their past to help them right now in this moment. To know that sometimes it is enough to simply be present ... I don’t have to do anything except be nearby, be available. None of the others have ever reached her level of what is often referred to as senility or dementia or Alzheimer’s ... the gradual loss of cognitive function. But her soul radiates through her body just as it always has. I sometimes have to remind myself, when my ego gets in the way, that it is an honor to share what I can with her these last few years, helping her in her fear, anxiety, or confusion when she has so selflessly given of herself to me all the other years and even now continues to give the beautiful gift of her unconditional love.

What goes through her mind when she is staring at the door in the evening? Is her behavior automatic? Is she guided by an inner knowing of which she is aware or is the reason obscure? She waits and stares because it is time. At this time, most days, something happens that is specific and part of her routine -- Ron arrives home from work. This activity completes the daily routine. What’s different now about her behavior? Now, even on the weekends, even if Ron saw her a few minutes earlier, after she eats, she goes and stares at the door that opens into the garage -- she waits. So, when I see her waiting, I go ask Ron to pretend to come home; he understands and obliges with love and sensitivity ... and then the routine is complete for Chiana, she can relax for the rest of the evening.

And to Her we shall return

Life and Death are not opposites.

Birth and Death are.

Life is always.

Because we were suddenly blessed with a balmy (67 deg) evening, I decided to go outside to the labyrinth to celebrate Samhain and honor those of my loved ones who have died. In many pagan traditions, this evening is when the veil is thinnest between the worlds and thus our connection is stronger to those whose spirits are no longer in the forms in which we once knew them. The forecast was for rain but, in spite of an overcast sky, we had only experienced the occasional light sprinkle.

I gathered some supplies and candles, and as I stepped out the door I heard some rain droplets pelting the dead leaves everywhere. I continued to the labyrinth, lighting candles on the outside at the four directions and a large one in the center.

As I spoke the names of my loved ones - two-legged and four-legged - who have died over the years, I honored their lives in form, expressing gratitude for the gifts of love, wisdom, and companionship they shared with me. I still feel compelled each year to ask forgiveness for any hurt I may have caused in whatever form it may have manifested. As raindrops fell on my upturned face, I realized that they represented tears of sorrow and joy, grief and pain; tears I have shed as well as those I may have been unable to release before. Tears of letting go.

The night was dark because of the overcast sky so the nearly full moon could only barely cast her glow through the clouds to silhouette our sentinel pines, but still I was drawn to walk the path. I wanted to release any negative emotions of the past - to set them free and let go of those that might be holding me back in some way. I asked my ancestors and loved ones to guide me, knowing we are all One, always, no matter where we are, on what plane in what incarnation -- we are still One - part of each other - connected through our joint experiences of love in the world of form.

So, as I walked the dark labyrinth, I turned off my flashlight, only the light of the candles at the four corners and center lit -- only the pale glow of the night sky that looked more like smoke -- keeping total blackness at bay. But I realized as I walked that the night was perfect. The path perfect. I shuffled my feet through the thick layer of leaves, taking small steps along the path, guided more by feel than anything else. The flat path a contrast with the edges of the large, dark rocks that lined the path, the hardness halting my feet when I needed to turn. I trusted my feet and the rocks to guide me -- and I embraced the reminder that I could also trust Gaia (Source, Infinite Spirit, She of Ten Thousand Names) and my loved ones to guide my path in this life of form, to help me know/see when to turn or pause or reflect - when to be tentative and patient or bold and forthright. To see that if I release the past -- my fears, the negative patterns -- then I can trust in love to guide my steps where I need to go.

And as I stopped in the center, releasing, I sighed from deep within, raising arms and face to the sky. Beautiful indeed. Light sprinkles of rain fell on my cheeks and I smiled in gratitude -- to Gaia, to my loved ones -- for love, guidance and wisdom bestowed now and to come.

Walking out of the labyrinth is a time to embrace, to welcome in joy and love, beauty and wisdom, the peace of knowing that all is as it should be past, present and future. As I walked, I sang:

"We all come from the Goddess, and to Her we shall return,

like a drop of rain, flowing to the ocean."

I felt the moon's glowing, healing energy pouring down upon me, infusing me, lighting the way. The path that earlier seemed so dark, was now far more clear, softly lit, water on tips of leaves twinkling like little fireflies. The message is also clear. My path is always right there in front of me and all I have to do is trust and step forward into the light of Love.

I am blessed. We are blessed.

I am never alone. We are never alone or separated.

I am filled with gratitude. We have so much to be grateful for.

I am loved. I love. We love.

We are all One.

Clever Girl

Morgana is so clever. I sit at the kitchen table studying. She comes over to me, nudges my elbow with her nose, and waits. I smile but continue with my studies. She nudges again. I smile. She comes around to the other side and nudges. I smile and ask "do you need to go 'outside'?" She wags her tail. I move my chair back. Pooka gets up from MORGAN'S BED and comes over to me eagerly to go 'outside' while Morgana quickly and quietly goes over to HER bed, lies down, and starts chewing on the bone left there. So, without having to move Pooka herself, she gets the bed AND the bone. Clever. And Pooka doesn't even realize what Morgana did because she didn't make a big deal of it ... and now he sits staring at me. Waiting. Too cute.

(The photo is from a few years ago. Morgana (on the right) is much more clever these days - older and wiser at 10 years.)