7.27.14 You Must Understand

You must understand. First, there's the shower of raindrops, sprinkling everywhere upon you, all around you, each time the wind rustles through the tall old Maples overhead. Taking the rain which has sat upon each leaf and stem, and tossing it about into the air, falling like so many stars.

Then there is the song of the trees themselves, something you remember now from childhood, noticing, the song of the leaves, of tree branches overhead- changing timbre and song and rhythm and chorus, 

all according to the season, with or without leaves, frozen or besotted with the most recent summer's rain.

And then there are the Pine Siskins, tiny agile birds, all day every day quietly chirping to one another, as they go about their lives, climbing up and down pine trunks, right side up, upside down, their babies the most miniscule small avians you have ever seen - almost - plotting the capture of the even smaller moths, as daylight finally begins it's departure, once again, from the neighborhood.

And then there is the bright sunlight, that comes streaming through all of a sudden, like beacons, through the violet billowy clouds far up in the sky. All of a surprise, now and then, shining a bright light and warmth upon you , upon patches of mosses, and a scattering of lightening here and there through the trees.

There is the pup, sitting by your side, happily pulling out and then chewing up fresh juicy strands of long green grasses, as he observes the world about him ,in this small enclave upon the earth.
And it is Sunday, day of rest : free from problem-solving,and, if you're lucky, working. A day of reflexion, of remembering, and even more so-of gratitude. 

Gratitude, spilling out of you, spilling over you, with no relation to what you do or do not like about your life, nothing to do with what is difficult or easy or what has gone well or what has been heartfelt and difficult. Simple gratitude, multiplying all by itself, each and every time you pull it near. 

There's the sound and the smell and the feel of a day of rest, unfolding down from the range, across the hilly basalt land, down into the outwaters- teeming with life; down into the powerful rough old Connecticut, with its memory and it's wisdom and it's knowledge as it streams, with it's capacity simply to flow, as days continue by.

7.21.14 Sundown. Cool and quiet and peaceful.

7.26.14 Settling Down Snug, In What Is

You never know what will happen when you take a health-related leave of absence from your beloved practice, or valued job, until it happens.

You find yourself infinitely moved by the message from your body , and then your medical practitioner, that says "Absolutely. Stop. Right now." It's the same love and concern and import as how you would feel about a dearest friend or a cared for neighbor. Only it's your self.

And if you're lucky enough to be in your 60s, it's probably not quite as much of a shock. Everyone realizes that at some point, sometime, we will stop working. Although many of us expected to "retire" at 75 or something.

You do find yourself studying and talking about and learning to be graciously appreciative for financial support, if you are lucky, from any quadrant. Or your partner paying for everything, learning to slowly toss aside feelings of the remorse or indebtedness, because they simply are not good for any relationships.

You learn slowly to figure out how to accept the generosity of others, either providing your health with supportive bodywork, visits to your home - fine tuned to your needs, loans of favorite books and activities, or small emails and texts just saying hi. That keep on coming and coming and coming. 

You begun to realize that the scope if your world and life has shifted, but despite your challenges and limitations , your relationships can indeed remain vital and absolutely reciprocal. 

And all the wonderful and exhausting activity of living a life prior to more serious health challenges, whether we have children ( and all that!) or partners or family members or dear friends: regardless of what fill our lives, quiets way way down , when our body calls for us to scale back and be quiet and allow the available resources to go toward maintenance and possibly healing. In fact, the feedback from your body becomes very a real , almost audible, almost palpable awareness. That you learn to detect and pay attention to or else, on a daily basis.
In the absence of expectations and appointments and demands from the outside world, life sorts itself out in an entirely new manner, where you begin to learn to hear and honor the flow of your own processes, and to respond with care and wisdom. 

And for all of those that I have known in this situation, previously in both my practices, or now friends and acquaintances, there's an ever present awareness that there are multitudes of individuals in the world who need to stop, and for survival reasons, cannot.

Which mediates living a day today life where there is not an encroaching condition that is life-threatening, there is not severe pain; but there is simply the absolute necessity to be slow and be quiet and, in between the emotions and reality that are both so difficult - these must be felt and then composted, all these feelings. 

And gradually you grow a very real gratitude that, if one needs to stop, somehow one is lucky enough to be able to do so.

Because our lives unfold. They are living things. Life grows ideas and hopes and dreams, and plans. And just look at all of the universal surprises and shocks and losses and disappointments. 

And then the inimitable grace one finds, if one can settle down , snug, in what is.

7.26.14 As Morning Came

As morning came, the tall Echinacea stretched- the towering

Mallows yawned, bees tickling their masses of blossoms; as the sky

after their breakfasts; made a ruckus playing in the fresh birdbath , then

Lightened - small Profusion Zinneas grew just a bit longer, felt their buds approach opening and smiled; when the

Evening's dew lifted, the

damp moths and butterflies and insects did open their wings and turn to the warmth of the sun

While burgundy, and then iridescent green hummingbirds visited

each and every blossom twice

so satisfied they never competed once

As the now adolescent birds, all born right here, went

perched upon the arch , chattering happily among themselves

Until Shiva Louisa and I stumbled out 

into the finally blinding morning light, later than all the rest, to let this

Sense of place sink in and

fill the well of our

thirsty afferent selves

7.25.14 It All Feels Rather Luxurious

ng out with the new babe, while the older kids play and race about. And at our house , our evening times behind the house with cool water in glasses , talking over the day or being deliciously silent. 

deer, and bear, too- so that when you take your pup 

It all feels rather luxurious. Extravagant, even. No biting insects to be found anywhere. The days are not too hot ; nor too cool. Enough rain that all things are well-nourished. No drought in this area, unlike poor other areas. 

The woods are filled with the pungent summer loamy scents, 

and with the cone on his head, because he went on a really fun multi dog run and got bit by some insect and then went swimming in the pond, and got some kind of infection) , 

you walk up the mountain singing and saying all sorts of very odd LOUD things, as you know for a fact that you are warning away either the deer that the dog could run, or that bear that might be pretty unhappy with you, especially if they're accompanied by cubs. 

And, in mid-morning, you meander up the mossy path as the light flickers gently through the tall trees, and observe the evidence of all of the lives. 

The aged gnarled trees and the chipmunk homes beneath them. The homes of terribly industrious ants, and the remains of other small mammals who quietly live out their lives, as our neighbors, in verdant summer times and challenging times come deep winter. 

And so we all luxuriate here- the neighbors reading or sitting out with the new babe, while the older kids play and race about. And at our house , our evening times behind the house with cool water in glasses , talking over the day or being deliciously silent. Usually in late July, rain here becomes scarce, ponds grow shallow and streams dry up. Mosquitoes are conversely rampant and the gardens better be well mulched, because NOONE is going to survive the experience of lingering and weeding.

But this year we have both adequate rains for all growing things, the early and unusual appearance of various mycelium that usually appear come dew drenched fall mornings, and not a biting insect in sight.

When friends come by, why , we can stroll about the gardens talking plants; and then sit back and watch the wind rustle the silver backed leaves of the Aspen- and gaze at the trees that line the conservation field- and further, the distant blue hills in Amherst and Leverett. 

And as evening falls, we watch with delight as the bats fill themselves with moths and other small winged creatures. 

Two bats swooping by overhead,healthy enough, silent, sharing the neighborhood - as they awaken and we prepare for sleep.

7.25.14 Bubble Bubble Toil and Trouble

Bubble bubble, toil and trouble.

 Ah; sometimes I think we mere humans are 

just aware and intelligent enough

 to get in trouble,

and make loads of assumptions, 

that mar our clarity

 - and not quite aware and intelligent enough 

to really get the gist 

of the whole picture.

7.23.14 A graceful new day

This morning, driving him to work.

 I had to explain to him what an empath was. 

His response? "I'll bump them and see if they pick up on it. 

Or maybe they're hikers and hike on the Empath." 

Hahaha. I swatted him. 

The pup in the back seat, with a cone on his poor head, swatted me.

 We all held hands and paws.

 It was a graceful new day.