11.7.15 So many small golden birds

Out the living room window 

Out of the corner of my eye

Falling leaves flutter past

So many small golden birds

 

11.7.1 The goodnight/sleep tight moment, on the conservation fields

11.6.15 Ever in the woods

11.6.15 Gone still

Gone, and gone still
the bright smile; an easy caress
Something about who
she had to see

Down by the docks where
the wintering boats lay tipped
to their sides -wrapped in wait
There was
someone she had to meet

Cold, cold the northeaster blew
In through the window cracks
through the heavy front door
pushed open, dragged shut as the
realization hit home; hit bone

Gone, and gone still, struck out 
as easy as she'd swung into town
with those illusory hazel eyes 
and that playful embrace ; 
everything an apparition; 
Off, like the fierce north wind

11.5.15 Inhaling serenity

Down by the river early in the morning. The peace. The hushed place. The ripples on the river. The lone Heron. Inhaling serenity.

11.5.15 The life we have been handed; sorting through that which holds meaning

Considering the events of the past six months, I now see,in retrospect, how  living and growing  my faith was actually a casual thing. Starting off gradually, in my 30s, with the relationship to God, morphing into the realization that the God that I knew had no gender, no race, no species.

     The facts, the design that I came to know through meditation, mindfulness and just being , struggling in the world, was about as far from any Old Testament as you could ever possibly get. 
     It took awhile until I would look around, And realize that what had grown , between myself and life, was a sense of "all that is "that was fascinatingly similar to Buddhism. 
     Kind of like turning around, at a certain age, and realizing that you 're part Puerto Rican, or Austrian or middle eastern or from Appalachia or L.A. 
     As the layers unfold, our  discovery happens. 
     This past March, when he became ill, everything shifted into high gear. As if I suddenly woke up once again, Realizing that this living a life was no game. Instead, in a way, it was more stark and revealed to be exactly what it was. 
     And on the other hand, it was serious stuff.
     Without really thinking about it, I began tossing out assumptions and various senses of things ,that I had accumulated over the years, I guess ,you could say ,deductions based upon all sorts of usual and very unusual experiences. Learning to make sense. Learning to be.
     So a whole lot of concepts and constructs and ideas ,that ran the gamut from more traditional religion to far flung spiritualism and clairvoyant experience  ,got placed carefully on the shelf. Just in case they were worthy of consideration.
     What followed was again and unconsciously followed inquiry into the nature of trust. Grace. Faith.
     I mean, what is your trust based on? That everything will be OK? That what is meant to be will be? Because they don't ring true to me anymore.
     And it's not that when difficult things happen, you interpret that as being smited or betrayed by some higher power.
     If we just look around a little tiny bit, we notice that every single species, every single growing thing, in absolutely normal life has all kinds of crap that happens to them, injuring them, ending their lives, tearing off a branch, squishing that ant ,getting very sick, everything. 
     It all just happens. We humans are not exempt. There is no fair. 
There just is what is. 
     And with and all that, there are aspects of our experience that lead to our development of faith. And if we stand just in the right proximity to our day or night, there, for me, is revealed the grace.
     For me, trust is not that the guy with the beard in the clouds gives me the correct parking space. 
     Trust is not that ,no matter what circumstances or conditions or habits, I will be spares a disease. Trust is not that I believe everything will go smoothly.
     So I've kept asking myself, what is the basis for my trust? What do I trust? How do I trust? What does that mean to me?
     As I look at all those thoughts and ideas and interpretations I lived with for the past 30 or 40 years. As I carefully place them up there on the shelf of consideration. 
     Of uncertainty. Of possibility.
     And then, I trust this phone in this moment, as I push the cart tour the grocery store.
     Trusting in the love I share with others, even when it's imperfect, at times seems to be a betrayal of , closeness understanding, and much more. 
     There is the trust of this breath, of this moment, of the life we have , the day we hold in our hands . the lives we have been handed.

11.5.15 Scoot scoot , up. Good dog. Not now. Cookie. friend, Give it, Walk.Sorry! Paw, ears, bone, lick a lick, kiss, shhhh, go in the car, and poop.

     As humans, we aspire to understand the expressions and communications of other species. We experience other species understanding our language. Horses, cats and dogs, crows, pigs, chickens, chickadees! So many creatures. Such intelligence.
     Dante is 2 1/2 now. Having had Shepherds before, I forgot when their language comprehension of humans begins, thought maybe it wouldn't happen with him . 
     But, surprise surprise. Here we are, with a whole bunch of words. Course, it helps to be home 24/7, resting  we're up to 53 words or phrases:
     Thank you, come , careful, watch it, I'll be right back, just a minute, wait!, no, good boy! Good dog! Sit, down, enough. Go for a walk? Run? Get it, ready? Take a little nap, cookie, food, be right back, it's the daddy! Ready go, this! , bunny, little squirrel, Chip, mouse! Horses, paw, have a pee, outside! On the rope. Get the toy! Scoot scoot , up. Good dog. Not now. Cookie. friend, Give it, Walk.Sorry! Paw, ears, bone, lick a lick, kiss, shhhh, go in the car, names of people he likes, stay , and of course, poop,