It is Jan 2, 2022. The second day of a new year. Another “new” year but somehow it looks suspiciously like last year. The second day after two full years of Covid, political, social, economic, planetary, … well, shall we just say chaos? No, I think polarity bests chaos.
Polarity, the blue revolving “nonresponding circle” on the computer, unsettles my nightly meditation. Holding my gratitude rock, I face each direction, and give thanks to each direction and its elements.
So long since my hands have touched these keys. So long since the Whispers would not relent until I sat and gave them voice. Oh my, 2020, what you have brought!
Returning from a quiet walk with nature’s solace, I sat at a stop light. How many stop lights our earth, country,…..
Like most, of late, my little boat seems as fragile as the leaf floating in the creek. As I stood watching, the Whisper brought to mind a chant that had been precious to my heart, but forgotten or lost …. like so many…..
How long has it been sweet moon since I have seen your face?
And then the whisper from Rumi, “At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come and press its face against mine. Breathe into me……
If there is one thing the Gulf quickly teaches you, it is impermanence. Footsteps, words written in the sand, sandcastles, even our trash will disappear. Look away for just a moment, and you’ll never see that same scene or image again.
That very…..
Artists use many different mediums. Sculptors carve to release. Nature’s mediums are time and the knife of weathering elements.
Oh sweet life, may your hollowing, hallow my laughing spirit and face.
The synchronicity of life often leaves me laughing and always pondering.
On December 22, 1849, Dostoevsky was taken to a public square, along with others, to be executed. It was a public warning to the masses. He waited his turn. After much pomp…..
Minnesota and Colorado quickly taught me to celebrate the emerging beginnings of spring which bequeathed only two layers of clothes not three or more. But it is late fall and winter that stirs my soul.
The trees’ nakedness adorns their dance. Their bends, twists,…..
My mind simply cannot wrap itself around the physics or whatever it should be called, that explains how dragon flies fly…. or survive. Here’s another one with such fragile wings….
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