The mountains and lake truly called me to come and walk. The voice of deadlines exuberantly competed. Who could deny the value, gentleness, and even necessity of either voice? But sometimes quietly, sometimes vigorously the voice of Now whispers and says “Simply here. Simply here, now. As…..
How many times I have walked the same path but my eyes never reached to her height. This early morning her statue so powerful could not miss. Look at her dance on the rocky mountain hill! What teased her body into such a sway of joy? How do…..
The intent was simple, to clear a flower bed untended for years. There was so much growth of grass, weeds and young trees, what may have been intentional could not be saved. To clear and replant was the only choice. With lots of shoveling I began to…..
Every coin has two faces. Zen and Buddhism teach that sorrow is in joy and joy is in sorrow. What is joy in this moment holds the sorrow of the next moment. Two faces. One coin.
Upon a drought hardened earth a bountiful gift of abundant rain…..
I have looked at paintings and drawings with absolute wonder as to the painter’s eye, touch, and ability to bring to life images of life. How do they see? How does their brain work? How does the eye’s image flow into their brain and then through their…..
Ok, I confess, I probably should’ve thought it through. Perhaps the task a bit much. To shovel out an untended garden area was probably not what my body needed. But who can deny the heart? Have wanted to tend the area, one of many, now for so…..
Glass bricks and sun dancing as the day begins to fold into night. Like watching clouds so many images flow through the glass… a tree, a sun rising over a mountain, leaves, waves, a fairy or angel with arms outstretched, a snowman, a heart, a caterpillar, and…..
Do you think the flower remembers when it was folded so tight? Do you think the flower whispers encouragement to the bud clinging to its armor of wrapped unfolded petals? Do you think the flower offers both its shade from the sun and reflection of the sun…..
A tree rooted moon. A lunar atlas of streams, highways, and byways. The touch and vibration of a tree nurtures my day. To bend my neck back and raise my eyes to say good night to the moon is my lullaby before sleep. Not even a half…..
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