The great thing about having dogs, especially a large baby moose dog,
is that you have no choice.
You must go for walks.
Good walks.
Energetic walks.
Or you will never ever survive.
Them. Ruff ruff!
Sunday, January 5, 2014
12.22.13 When you walk and leave behind the winter couch potato.
When you walk and leave behind the winter couch potato. ( uuuhhhh! It's DARK! It's COLD! What the heck ? I'm supposed to bundle up, now , and WALK????) trust me, all these cool things happen.
Your organs rub together and get rid of crap, and your blood starts moving about more effectively and your brain gets fresh air and you start to lift your eyes to the horizon and all the things you wish never happened, or all the things you always thought would happen that cause you grief because they didn't
... Fade into an overall perspective, and as you walk along, ice, snow, rain, cold, dirty dishes or crabby someone back home, it slowly is all lifted .
From your mind and your shoulders and your clenched fists and your sense of exhausted aloneness and sometimes hopelessness . And you just walk and there is nothing else to do in this moment, see? Nothing to think or plan or review in your mind. The more you take each step while watching the trees bend in the wind, feeling the cold winter air travel deep into your beautiful human lungs, the easier it becomes to not think about the past .
Or the future. Soon, when you walk, you find yourself having a sense if a path. Of your own. That you are walking along . Soon, you get this feeling of wandering from this wonderful new path whoever your mind veers toward thoughts of the future.
Or of the past. Agh! You stumble and begin to trip! Steady yourself, and get back on your path . No thoughts . Wow. It really feels so different. Feels good. Your shoulders soften . Your breathing deepens.
You glance at the powelines. You think about electricity. You look at the lines go into the house you walked by. You think about your electric bill. You think about your take home pay. You think about the car 's tuneup next week. BAM!!!! You almost fall face Forrest's off the path. Geeze!! What the heck!! Ok, ok, you stumble bCk up on the path, neck tight, more anxiet, breath more shallow. You start to GET it! Wow. Ok.
1. You're walking on a path
2. You are thinking of nothing in the past or future.
3. As you just walk and feel your legs move you ing Zander how your feet meet the ground and how the air smells today, your neck relaxes. Your shoulders drop. Your heart lightens and the nerves Round it loosen nicely. You begin to swing your arms as you walk. You begin to walk with your whole body, just checking it out. Like Goofy, all loose and all.
Geeze, is anyone seeing you? Oh who cares. You feel lightened. Your head feels lighter. It feels so good . Along comes a memory. 'Yup' you say to yourself , feeling how that felt. Staying on the path. Then off the memory goes and here you are, just right now.
All loosely goosey. Without a care. Just for now. You suddenly recal a task you forgot to do, at work or home or school or for your partner or kid or parent. You stub your toe , begin to veer off the path. Ow! You get back on and settle down. You're rely starting to get it now. You get home or back to work or whatever. You feel relaxed. Calm . Clear. Focused. That's the magic. Just like that . And each time - it just -gets better.
Photo- one of many amazing convenient local paths-right off rt 9 in Hadley, The Adele Dawson Conservation Area. Park your car or bike, get out, climb to the rise , and stroll by the side of the grand Connecticut.
Photo- one of many amazing convenient local paths-right off rt 9 in Hadley, The Adele Dawson Conservation Area. Park your car or bike, get out, climb to the rise , and stroll by the side of the grand Connecticut.
12.22.13 When you walk, you breathe.
When you walk, you breathe. . When you breathe, you oxygenate the cells in your body. When the cells in your body are oxygenated, all your organs worth better!
Fresh air is alkalinizing. Fresh vegetables and fruit Are alkalinizing A lot of really fun things to eat and drink are acidifying. Like, for example, alcohol, coffee, dairy, meat, soft drinks, sugar, white flour, processed food..... Kinda like acid rain... In the body. Yuck.
The cool part is, really nice quality water is very alkalinizing. Magnesium and calcium supplements are alkalinizing. Green powder and chlorophyll supplements are alkalinizing. So it's kind of like balancing the equation, right? If you have a drink of alcohol or a cup of coffee, just have to balance it out, so you don't topple over in imbalance.
Many people in my practice do better trying to add the things that benefit them -than they do trying to not have the things that aren't so great for them.
It seems like slowly the beneficial things begin to crowd out the unbeneficial things.
Improvements in the quality of your health-the way that you feel when you wake up in the morning, or after a long difficult day, are hard to measure and sometimes hard to notice.
See if you can start to remember how you feel each morning, and connect it with what you did the day before.
It's kind of a helpful way of encouraging and cheering yourself on, slowly adding more and more of the things that really help you function well and feel good about being in the world.
Fresh air is alkalinizing. Fresh vegetables and fruit Are alkalinizing A lot of really fun things to eat and drink are acidifying. Like, for example, alcohol, coffee, dairy, meat, soft drinks, sugar, white flour, processed food..... Kinda like acid rain... In the body. Yuck.
The cool part is, really nice quality water is very alkalinizing. Magnesium and calcium supplements are alkalinizing. Green powder and chlorophyll supplements are alkalinizing. So it's kind of like balancing the equation, right? If you have a drink of alcohol or a cup of coffee, just have to balance it out, so you don't topple over in imbalance.
Many people in my practice do better trying to add the things that benefit them -than they do trying to not have the things that aren't so great for them.
It seems like slowly the beneficial things begin to crowd out the unbeneficial things.
Improvements in the quality of your health-the way that you feel when you wake up in the morning, or after a long difficult day, are hard to measure and sometimes hard to notice.
See if you can start to remember how you feel each morning, and connect it with what you did the day before.
It's kind of a helpful way of encouraging and cheering yourself on, slowly adding more and more of the things that really help you function well and feel good about being in the world.
12.22.13 We go gently about our days
Just a few days ago it
Looked like a white
Christmas Day was
For once coming along
Down the track, snowdrifts and
Plowing and late schooldays and
The fields and forests
Sodden with the silence borne of snowfall
But now the rain and rain again, our great
Illimitable earth drinking
The vital fluids ; the
Tracks of wild ones
Are the silence now as
We go gently about our days
Looked like a white
Christmas Day was
For once coming along
Down the track, snowdrifts and
Plowing and late schooldays and
The fields and forests
Sodden with the silence borne of snowfall
But now the rain and rain again, our great
Illimitable earth drinking
The vital fluids ; the
Tracks of wild ones
Are the silence now as
We go gently about our days
12.25,13 Christmas morning,
Christmas morning, an early morning of dogs taking up most of the bed, of bringing them out into the frigid cold light, Pachysandra finally with leaves curled tight against the winter come round to us again. Small pinks and oranges littering the dawn; a small posse of adolescent crows making their way more quietly, as cold is far more serious than casual fall. Solstice come and soaked us, as we, aware or not, are renewed with its depth of ancient connection. To rhythms and cycles- listen now -as the ant knows how to function in a nest, as the bear knows how to awaken in spring and care for her pups already there, so too when we give ourselves some small chance-to settle ourselves-to take ourselves seriously- to remember"Ah, this is MY LIFE!"
This moment. No matter how tiresome or lonely or paltry it seems, no matter how in this silly turn of human choice and consequence, we find ourselves in yet another culture that parades before us, for its own money- making, near impossible fantasies of who and how we " should be able to be", if we are of worth, always implied.
Seems the best recourse is to hear the wisdom of the ancients.
Ancient trees and lands and Hemikeuca lucina buckmoth and the peoples in ancient times who, too, became lost and found and lost.
Yet many of the seasonal shifts and human cultures had immersed in them the wisdom of the spheres, the simple ways of living and balance.
And to some, it began with a God-word, their God-form, outside surrounding them, and of them, and within them.
So that all you saw-the stand of Sumac and the Buckmoth and the cranky baker next door , and the hungry thief of a child of the Miller, and WERE you and you WERE them and nothing was easy and if you slipped down, as you struggled down the road, babe on back , small lunch on pocket, scythe in arm, as you made your way to the ripened Millet fields
and as you did, you DROPPED DOWN into yourself into the quiet and awareness of the universe
and found there, your SELF, waiting.
And as you made your way, you watched as thoughts and complaints and memories and sadnesses had their moment with you, then quietly and efficiently dissolved a bit more.
If you were milking cows with frozen fingers and a hungry belly or helping an aged one up from sleep, bathing and dressing and rubbing with oil the sore places,
as outside the dawn was rounding the bend of the day,
and the day was December 25th. And no matter CE or BCE, you caught sight of the small orange poem as the night gave way and the day opened its lustrous wings ,
and shook them ,
and inside of you was the song of remembering.
For ants and Oaks and Bears come into being knowing how to BE ants and Oaks and Bears.
And here in the now of a Chrismas morn is the remembering we must find also,
day after day, down deep within us; down in the quiet , no matter where
Or what or how we are. Like laying out a prayer mat anywhere .
For our wisdom and our health and our peacefulness. Our fullness of being.
We remember and we find the depth and we find our consciousness
waiting like a loyal canine and
we find our awareness
and we venture outside
and we breathe deep the cold air of our life
and watch the small orange of the sky transform
and then we find our ancestor selves and earthly selves and universal selves
all over again.
This moment. No matter how tiresome or lonely or paltry it seems, no matter how in this silly turn of human choice and consequence, we find ourselves in yet another culture that parades before us, for its own money- making, near impossible fantasies of who and how we " should be able to be", if we are of worth, always implied.
Seems the best recourse is to hear the wisdom of the ancients.
Ancient trees and lands and Hemikeuca lucina buckmoth and the peoples in ancient times who, too, became lost and found and lost.
Yet many of the seasonal shifts and human cultures had immersed in them the wisdom of the spheres, the simple ways of living and balance.
And to some, it began with a God-word, their God-form, outside surrounding them, and of them, and within them.
So that all you saw-the stand of Sumac and the Buckmoth and the cranky baker next door , and the hungry thief of a child of the Miller, and WERE you and you WERE them and nothing was easy and if you slipped down, as you struggled down the road, babe on back , small lunch on pocket, scythe in arm, as you made your way to the ripened Millet fields
and as you did, you DROPPED DOWN into yourself into the quiet and awareness of the universe
and found there, your SELF, waiting.
And as you made your way, you watched as thoughts and complaints and memories and sadnesses had their moment with you, then quietly and efficiently dissolved a bit more.
If you were milking cows with frozen fingers and a hungry belly or helping an aged one up from sleep, bathing and dressing and rubbing with oil the sore places,
as outside the dawn was rounding the bend of the day,
and the day was December 25th. And no matter CE or BCE, you caught sight of the small orange poem as the night gave way and the day opened its lustrous wings ,
and shook them ,
and inside of you was the song of remembering.
For ants and Oaks and Bears come into being knowing how to BE ants and Oaks and Bears.
And here in the now of a Chrismas morn is the remembering we must find also,
day after day, down deep within us; down in the quiet , no matter where
Or what or how we are. Like laying out a prayer mat anywhere .
For our wisdom and our health and our peacefulness. Our fullness of being.
We remember and we find the depth and we find our consciousness
waiting like a loyal canine and
we find our awareness
and we venture outside
and we breathe deep the cold air of our life
and watch the small orange of the sky transform
and then we find our ancestor selves and earthly selves and universal selves
all over again.
12.26.13 This Morning I Choose
This morning I choose
my beloved I choose the
four cats and the sweet
wise old dog and the
marauder moose pup I choose
12 days of Christmas I choose
lighting the lights I choose
the depth of Kwanzaa and the
Native ways I choose the
wisdom of Hanukkah and the
lesson of St. Lucia I choose
A transformation of our global
conscious awareness
of the simple hard reality of
cause and effect of the
grave place we are in as a
people we are in as a
species no room left as the
land no time left I choose
small and large things we can manage to somehow
Enact in our global choices.
I choose my
three inestimable grown ones
and their partners all once
mere babes in my devoted arms or
struggling middle schoolers now
glorious and grown their
struggles no longer mine each
life a ripening wild rose
health for my body I choose
embracing this season I choose
oatmeal with grated Apple I choose
steaming global radiation dissolving Miso in a cup I choose
sitting by the windows watching
lives of the birds feeding as they come and go with their
clutches of adolescents I choose
early this morning I choose
the life I awaken to I choose
the Earth's environment I wake to I choose
The illimitable Sun as it
strays in it's orbit as our
Earth does turn and the
light does come splashing
BRASH , like a dancer
up over the range and
SPILLS down the mountain and
flashes into the conservation field and
rears its obdurate head as it
crashes to the river and
far far far beyond
Day after day after day
Sometimes it's not the
easiest thing to
be here
Ant, Oak, Bear
or your sweet self
but today, precious life
I choose this
my beloved I choose the
four cats and the sweet
wise old dog and the
marauder moose pup I choose
12 days of Christmas I choose
lighting the lights I choose
the depth of Kwanzaa and the
Native ways I choose the
wisdom of Hanukkah and the
lesson of St. Lucia I choose
A transformation of our global
conscious awareness
of the simple hard reality of
cause and effect of the
grave place we are in as a
people we are in as a
species no room left as the
land no time left I choose
small and large things we can manage to somehow
Enact in our global choices.
I choose my
three inestimable grown ones
and their partners all once
mere babes in my devoted arms or
struggling middle schoolers now
glorious and grown their
struggles no longer mine each
life a ripening wild rose
health for my body I choose
embracing this season I choose
oatmeal with grated Apple I choose
steaming global radiation dissolving Miso in a cup I choose
sitting by the windows watching
lives of the birds feeding as they come and go with their
clutches of adolescents I choose
early this morning I choose
the life I awaken to I choose
the Earth's environment I wake to I choose
The illimitable Sun as it
strays in it's orbit as our
Earth does turn and the
light does come splashing
BRASH , like a dancer
up over the range and
SPILLS down the mountain and
flashes into the conservation field and
rears its obdurate head as it
crashes to the river and
far far far beyond
Day after day after day
Sometimes it's not the
easiest thing to
be here
Ant, Oak, Bear
or your sweet self
but today, precious life
I choose this
12.28.13 Real, Not Real, or Surreal?
Real, Not Real, or Surreal?
I remember when I began taking photographs again a few years ago.
My husband gave me a camera for my birthday, and as I was leaving a dear friend's house up in Belchertown, I pulled over to the side of the beautiful curving steep road, and went wandering about the stream bed.
Oh, it was so beautiful, the stream wandering down the hill, the dappled light through the tall forest conifers; tiny remarkable places everywhere you looked.
Yet, what surprised me most was that the photographs portrayed the things that I had not seen.
That in fact, you can see, if you stop, and look, and slowly learn-to see.
All that motion of water! Those amazing dynamics of rock and current , of plants far beneath, living their entire lives in the dark depths.
Eventually, I learned about editing photographs. It's very similar to painting or drawing or dancing, and shifting something a little bit, so the depth is more predominant, or certain portions of the composition come to the forefront, or a dynamic is accentuated.
And we each have a different vantage point, anyway.
What we see is actually a confabulation of actual matter, our individual and very unique visual apparatus, and what our brain chooses to portray for us.
What we see isn't, in actuality , a reality. It's an arrangement that varies according to the person or species or whether you're sitting or standing or in Alaska or Australia.
It seems like when we begin to take photographs we learn all the little editing tools and then somebody introduces us to Ye Olde Instagram, with this consequent tendency to want to make these florid and extreme surreal creations. Just ramp everything the hell up. It's so lurid and exciting. The ability to transform a dry, brown leaf to another universe.
And with time, we mature, and begin longing for photographs that contain actuality.
Like a young adult who has been on their own for the first time, binging on junk food, and begins to yearn for healthier nourishment at last.
What happens then, is that we begin to realize that what we have learned to see, as we look upon your surroundings before taking a photograph, is not showing up in the photograph itself.
And so then there is this balancing act, between wanting to let the actuality of life BE, and alternately, to edit a photograph in order to have it be able to convey what we can actually see in front of us.
And so we begin.
I think it's very similar to when we paint or dance or sing or write or garden or parent or travel and we slowly begin to refine and define our voice.
And then of course, over time, we keep growing and transforming and
changing.
So it is with a photograph.
I can stand outside this morning in my pajamas and slippers, as the enormous moose pup bounces about on his lead, threatening to lop off my feet, so I stand very carefully watching him.
And I'm looking up at the early morning sky, these horizontal striations all through the sky! And I continue to look, as I rub my arms with my hands, the pup finally off chewing a big log.
And slowly, I begin to see in the cloud formation that is passing by a curve, and depth of light gradations.
I begin to see the orange-yellow light on the horizon, and I'm not sure why, because the sun is coming from the other direction, and muted by cloud cover. I began to see the cerulean blue of the sky behind the clouds.
So I take two shots, and go inside to have breakfast. And do other things. And then I have time to sit down, and look at what my little machine has captured of the remarkable beauty in this world.
And those remarkable delicate horizontal lines are nowhere to be found. And the enormous steep curve of the cloud initially is not there, but when I shift the contrast, and lower the light, there it is! Just as I thought! And when I lower the light, and heighten the saturation, oh! There is the yellow I saw.
Editing a photograph, changing the series of movements in a dance, transforming a blue you are using on your palette to a deeper , more powerful metallic shade- all of these things can be shifted this way and that to convey exactly what we see, or convey something completely new.
I remember when I began taking photographs again a few years ago.
My husband gave me a camera for my birthday, and as I was leaving a dear friend's house up in Belchertown, I pulled over to the side of the beautiful curving steep road, and went wandering about the stream bed.
Oh, it was so beautiful, the stream wandering down the hill, the dappled light through the tall forest conifers; tiny remarkable places everywhere you looked.
Yet, what surprised me most was that the photographs portrayed the things that I had not seen.
That in fact, you can see, if you stop, and look, and slowly learn-to see.
All that motion of water! Those amazing dynamics of rock and current , of plants far beneath, living their entire lives in the dark depths.
Eventually, I learned about editing photographs. It's very similar to painting or drawing or dancing, and shifting something a little bit, so the depth is more predominant, or certain portions of the composition come to the forefront, or a dynamic is accentuated.
And we each have a different vantage point, anyway.
What we see is actually a confabulation of actual matter, our individual and very unique visual apparatus, and what our brain chooses to portray for us.
What we see isn't, in actuality , a reality. It's an arrangement that varies according to the person or species or whether you're sitting or standing or in Alaska or Australia.
It seems like when we begin to take photographs we learn all the little editing tools and then somebody introduces us to Ye Olde Instagram, with this consequent tendency to want to make these florid and extreme surreal creations. Just ramp everything the hell up. It's so lurid and exciting. The ability to transform a dry, brown leaf to another universe.
And with time, we mature, and begin longing for photographs that contain actuality.
Like a young adult who has been on their own for the first time, binging on junk food, and begins to yearn for healthier nourishment at last.
What happens then, is that we begin to realize that what we have learned to see, as we look upon your surroundings before taking a photograph, is not showing up in the photograph itself.
And so then there is this balancing act, between wanting to let the actuality of life BE, and alternately, to edit a photograph in order to have it be able to convey what we can actually see in front of us.
And so we begin.
I think it's very similar to when we paint or dance or sing or write or garden or parent or travel and we slowly begin to refine and define our voice.
And then of course, over time, we keep growing and transforming and
changing.
So it is with a photograph.
I can stand outside this morning in my pajamas and slippers, as the enormous moose pup bounces about on his lead, threatening to lop off my feet, so I stand very carefully watching him.
And I'm looking up at the early morning sky, these horizontal striations all through the sky! And I continue to look, as I rub my arms with my hands, the pup finally off chewing a big log.
And slowly, I begin to see in the cloud formation that is passing by a curve, and depth of light gradations.
I begin to see the orange-yellow light on the horizon, and I'm not sure why, because the sun is coming from the other direction, and muted by cloud cover. I began to see the cerulean blue of the sky behind the clouds.
So I take two shots, and go inside to have breakfast. And do other things. And then I have time to sit down, and look at what my little machine has captured of the remarkable beauty in this world.
And those remarkable delicate horizontal lines are nowhere to be found. And the enormous steep curve of the cloud initially is not there, but when I shift the contrast, and lower the light, there it is! Just as I thought! And when I lower the light, and heighten the saturation, oh! There is the yellow I saw.
Editing a photograph, changing the series of movements in a dance, transforming a blue you are using on your palette to a deeper , more powerful metallic shade- all of these things can be shifted this way and that to convey exactly what we see, or convey something completely new.
12.28.13 What A Beauty
In a nearby town
down a small country road
by the small town square
with the bandstand, emptied
stands this small antigue shop
that glistens
day and night;
night and day.
What a beauty.
12.29.13 This Very Present Moment
Giving ourselves a pep talk works.
It reminds us of what we know to be true.
Shaming ourselves
glues us to self defeating illusions .
Shame fosters amnesia .
Awareness of this very present moment
offers enrichment ,
peace and possibility.
12.29.13 Even The Clouds
Come the rains, this
dark winters day when the
vast fields glisten
gold, grasses standing
witness to the adolescent crows
dark winters day when the
vast fields glisten
gold, grasses standing
witness to the adolescent crows
flying in silence
to roost;
to roost;
even the clouds
banded together
in sleep
in sleep
12.30.13 All Over The Heavens
Today I was driving past one of my favorite places.
There are so many places where, unless you look carefully, over and over again, learning to really see what is there, taking photographs, and discovering more of what's there, you don't realize what an amazing place it is.
This is just a field in my little town on the little road I take to go just about anywhere.
But often, something remarkable is just happening there. Or so many places. Possibly every single place.
So, today I drove by, and glanced to the side just to say hi, and thought to myself "What on earth is happening here?" Screeched to a stop.
Often, I just pull the car over, and take a quick shot. Look at it later, and there's these remarkable colors and cloud formations and the land and the one lone tree and ditch have all changed once again.
But today I had to clamber out and stumble closer to really see.
There was a light show in the sky, enormous; filling the sky overhead.
All I could say was "Oh my!" , take a few shots, have my phone die.
Then I had to stand there, just taking in the waving golden winter grass,
the glistening water in the ditch,
the chill wind singing through the grasses and the trees,
and some variation of Mare's Tails clouds
just coming to life all over the heavens.
1.1.14 Happy New Year's Day to You!
Early this morning, at my office, in work clothes and heeled boots , I hear the call of the river- the beginning winter's ice-floes , crashing round the corners of The Connecticut.
After knocking on my brother's office door, embracing him, and wishing him a happy new year, I steal over to the rickety steps that lead down to the riverside, past broken railings, debris strewn.
After knocking on my brother's office door, embracing him, and wishing him a happy new year, I steal over to the rickety steps that lead down to the riverside, past broken railings, debris strewn.
I teeter down the old steps, and carefully make my way to the edge of the small precipice, to have a glorious look over the edge at the piles of broken ice, remnants of the river rising up, freezing, and then emptying again, leaving shelves of iridescent silver ,white and clear layers upon layers of ice.
And there, stretched far out before me, the broad Connecticut.
Deepest blue! Scattered with icefloes , racing with the current.
The sun behind me is just now cresting the stately Firs, spreading across our low office building, and at this moment, spills down over the steep incline , splaying bright morning light across the river's edge.
Deepest blue! Scattered with icefloes , racing with the current.
The sun behind me is just now cresting the stately Firs, spreading across our low office building, and at this moment, spills down over the steep incline , splaying bright morning light across the river's edge.
I stand in the dead leaves, gazing down at the remarkable shade that should be called. 'Connecticut River Winter Blue' . Here I find the chorus of trees that have lived here , in the river's four season environment, for so long.
After the warmer days last week, that melted everything, we have been tossed back into the rhododendron leaf-curling frigid cold , so once again, today, the river is filling with ice floe of varying sizes that have formed far up north , in far colder lands, and are coming on through our neighborhood, the ice thickening and lengthening with each crystal cold night and day.
And here today, like enormous starships, or legendary clouds overhead, ice floes come crash into this corner as they navigate their way down to the sea.
I stand and watch the bright blue sky of this new year, the river upstream round it's corner , and the river downstream , flowing past the conservation path so many of us frequent, the air crisp and freezing cold , as , around the bend , comes an ice floe - maybe 40 feet long by 10 or 12 feet wide.
It careens round the bend of the river, carried by the swift current, and comes crashing up alongside the banks, scraping along powerfully below where I am standing.
Yesterday, I was at the Conservation path around the corner, the beautiful long paths up on arroyos, so that you look far down to the river. All of the errant strangers walking by me, and myself, we found ourselves mentioning to each other that usually, when there are sounds along the river, it's wildlife.
But in winter ; it's the river-transforming itself. Into ice.
Just watching the remarkable blue waters and the ice, and the trees who have lived here for so long, I take a video.
Midway, I squat further and further down, to catch the light of the trees on the other side of the river.
When it's time to stand back up, on my heels, on this little precipice, in the video you can see a bit of wobbling . Hmmm. A little spice for my first day of 2014.
Filled with the crashing careening ice and the broad Connecticut, it's leaning-in trees and the vast blue sky, I return to my office, to my car, and my home , downstream, to relish the beginnings of our new year .
Here's wishing all of you wisdom, ease, and the capacity to digest just enough of your experiences that you're able to settle deep down into yourself and relish this which is your life.
When it's time to stand back up, on my heels, on this little precipice, in the video you can see a bit of wobbling . Hmmm. A little spice for my first day of 2014.
Filled with the crashing careening ice and the broad Connecticut, it's leaning-in trees and the vast blue sky, I return to my office, to my car, and my home , downstream, to relish the beginnings of our new year .
Here's wishing all of you wisdom, ease, and the capacity to digest just enough of your experiences that you're able to settle deep down into yourself and relish this which is your life.
1.3.14 Grace Comes Upon Us Poem
Grace comes upon us and
Grace enters us ; Grace
Breathes life into us -
Grace befalls us .
Grace fills each one of us. Grace
Marches up the creaky porch
strides into the kitchen
leaving that
screen door slamming - the
old latch snapping ; Grace will
Slump into our rocker and
peer into our heart and
not miss a trick ; for,
Grace simply knows us. Grace will
Stay by our side and
walk along our path and
scramble up the ravines then
struggle cross those lost lands Grace will
Breathe each breath with us
and live hand in ours;
Grace warps and weaves
that which was torn; Grace
gathers up our soul
in a swoon of redemption
Grace
Insists upon the sanctity of
equity and justice ; Grace has
no time or patience for
that which is cruel. Grace is
Eyeing us from the doorway Grace has
blessed our every day and dream Grace
sees into our true self Grace Is conscious awareness Grace
Sings our song of redemption
murmurs lines of realization Grace will
be right there with us til our
journeying is over Grace will
Gather us up and Grace shall quench our thirst ; Grace hears the
bleating of our fears and the stolid call of our soul Grace knows
All our true loves as we
bid them goodbye, our
lover and children; or our
Sweetest four footeds or the
field's first light or
all the land's creatures or
vast stands of trees and underground mycelium Grace
comes up upon us
and Grace enters us Grace
breathes life into us -
Grace befalls us . Grace
fills every one of us. Grace
marches up the creaky porch
Slumps into that rocker and
Stays by our side and
Breathes each breath with us
and weaves what was torn; and swoons with redemption
Insists upon sanctity Grace is
Eyeing you from the doorway Grace Is conscious awareness Grace
Sings your song Grace will
be right with you Grace will
Gather you up Grace shall
bleat your fears Grace knows
All your true loves as you
love your children; your
friends and loved ones, the
Four footed creatures the
animals of the land and the
rebel of the river and the
light upon the fields and Grace
holds us in our ending
Grace breathes
faith into our bereft ones Grace
Sings the holy song of
endless immortality that is
only known round here by its ancient name - which would be
Simply and only
The divine's most devout
Love.
2.2.14
Grace enters us ; Grace
Breathes life into us -
Grace befalls us .
Grace fills each one of us. Grace
Marches up the creaky porch
strides into the kitchen
leaving that
screen door slamming - the
old latch snapping ; Grace will
Slump into our rocker and
peer into our heart and
not miss a trick ; for,
Grace simply knows us. Grace will
Stay by our side and
walk along our path and
scramble up the ravines then
struggle cross those lost lands Grace will
Breathe each breath with us
and live hand in ours;
Grace warps and weaves
that which was torn; Grace
gathers up our soul
in a swoon of redemption
Grace
Insists upon the sanctity of
equity and justice ; Grace has
no time or patience for
that which is cruel. Grace is
Eyeing us from the doorway Grace has
blessed our every day and dream Grace
sees into our true self Grace Is conscious awareness Grace
Sings our song of redemption
murmurs lines of realization Grace will
be right there with us til our
journeying is over Grace will
Gather us up and Grace shall quench our thirst ; Grace hears the
bleating of our fears and the stolid call of our soul Grace knows
All our true loves as we
bid them goodbye, our
lover and children; or our
Sweetest four footeds or the
field's first light or
all the land's creatures or
vast stands of trees and underground mycelium Grace
comes up upon us
and Grace enters us Grace
breathes life into us -
Grace befalls us . Grace
fills every one of us. Grace
marches up the creaky porch
Slumps into that rocker and
Stays by our side and
Breathes each breath with us
and weaves what was torn; and swoons with redemption
Insists upon sanctity Grace is
Eyeing you from the doorway Grace Is conscious awareness Grace
Sings your song Grace will
be right with you Grace will
Gather you up Grace shall
bleat your fears Grace knows
All your true loves as you
love your children; your
friends and loved ones, the
Four footed creatures the
animals of the land and the
rebel of the river and the
light upon the fields and Grace
holds us in our ending
Grace breathes
faith into our bereft ones Grace
Sings the holy song of
endless immortality that is
only known round here by its ancient name - which would be
Simply and only
The divine's most devout
Love.
2.2.14
1.3.13 Say A Little Prayer
Stay warm
and get your sleep
and eat your warm food
and enjoy your hot bath,
cooking away those microbes!
Sweet dreams
and say a little prayer
for those less fortunate.