Today may be the “official” Mother’s Day, but for me, Mama’s Day occurred in a different month and on a different day.
My mother called me at work – something she would NEVER have thought to do. I grabbed my cell phone and scurried out to the parking lot where I would make endless circles walking as we talked. Mama had been struggling with her colon cancer and she had made a decision. She wanted to tell me first…..
My sweet friend, how long has the river swirled around your roots? Challenged your trunk? Doubted your resiliency?
And the river…..
And in this world of upheaval, I ponder the vibration within the earth as the sap returns to the trunks, branches, limbs, and budded fingers. I gaze upon the roots and imagine the millions of roots beneath the visible soil humming with…..
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…..
Recent Comments