Monthly Archives: September 2014
I am learning that to quiet myself is not a quieting of stillness where everything becomes still and frozen. Quieting myself now is awareness of what is different, the texture of change, the awareness that the key of life’s symphony has…..
i am the beauty of summer caressing fall i am the shadow upon the mountain i am the undaunted seed finding the sun i am a rock mountain resting in a small hand. i am the mud prints holding the presence of elk. i am the rustling leaves singing…..
“Seek not revelations, all is revealed” ~ Marilyn Buck. Seeing and seeking patterns keeps me from seeing creation as a face of the Divine. Midst such an explosion of diversity, a swash of color here but not there, explosions of shades and colors and the sameness of…..
So many metaphors and images on a morning when winter leap frogged autumn to say hello. But the whisper that gifted such a laugh to my sighing heart…Baptismal Joy. Sometimes, it is that elegantly simple.
A day of remembrance in the U.S. The phrase memorialized is “We will never forget.” The same phrase used to remember the 6 million Jewish people who were gathered and annihilated in the holocaust 80 years ago (1933-1945). A phrase perhaps used…..
What makes the desert mesa become the green of pasture? What makes the green pasture become the barren desert mesa? Such a different texture depending upon how the question is asked. From green and fertile to dry dirt or dust and dry earth…..
Sometimes the rainbow cannot wait for the rain to stop to gift its promised offering. Or maybe, even the rain longs for the rainbow’s offering.
An entanglement of roots minding not time and erosion nor the belief that roots grow only deep down into the earth. Roots grow where the tree needs. Roots grow around rocks. They do not crack open and force their way through. Roots extend to find the softness…..
The mountain has taken sail
Gathering the clouds on its bow, port, and mast.
I close my eyes.
Denying the feet’s gravity
I become a mermaid on the mountain’s prow
…..
The whisper telling me to look, surely delighted to hear my laughter when my eyes met the image’s gaze. Oh, it could be my hair when I wake up in the morning. Could be the explosion of softness bursting from the daunting thorns. Could be…..
Recent Comments