More AND enough

Wondering how I would gather it all in. How to gather the random threads and see the tapestry that awaited. It seemed overwhelming and somewhat daunting. I paused and looked down to see the small acorns gathered round the oak tree. How small they looked. Indeed, how fragile. And yet, like a mother, the oak tree seemed to have gathered them together. "Look little ones, look and see. Tis more than what you are, and yet that is enough. You must see with the eyes of the seed, the eyes of the roots, and the eyes of the sun. Look little ones, tis more than what you are now, and yet, that is exactly what is necessary to become."

Beginning and Been

I ponder the many changes. I confess like the monkey, with his hand stuck in the jar clinging to the treat, there is the urge to hold on and not release, keeping my hand stuck in the jar. And then the whisper of "beginning again...but all has been."

Is not the sun at noon, unnoticed, perhaps uninteresting, the same sun that rises and sets with such magnificence and grandeur? And yet, it is not. The same for millions of years and in the time the words were typed it has changed. The tides of my emotions, growth, and understanding have all been felt by others since life began. And yet they are uniquely mine.

Perhaps that is the thread and whisper. Like the breath I begin again yet all has been. To greet the familiar of today like an old old friend and leave the door open for the friend yet to meet. 

Frozen Dancer Dancing

I sat on the canyon's bank and listened to the thin river dancing below. I knew the river had to be fed, but after all this time did not know from where. Giving my thanks I stood to leave. The sun whispered and drew my eyes. There, never seen before, after all these many many walks was the source. Hidden in the shrubs and swells of earth I had never seen til now. It took the dance of sun, ice, and snow for me to see.

A frozen source, stilled in time. And yet the river danced and sang. Frozen in appearance. Choreographed by the drought hardened earth.  A dancing singer to observe and hear. I giggled. A most most perfect way to see this day, this new glorious year and life.

Resting Questions

I stepped into nature's doorway with a question posed by Elizabeth Matti-Namgyel "How do we live a life we can't hold on to?" It is almost the end of December yet my walk among the Colorado mountains gifted a sweat the weather so warm.  While my body was hot the lake moved beneath a sheet of ice. I sat and watched the migrating geese as they rested from their journey. How long will their journey be? Do they ever wish for a sense of home or a life they can hold on to?

I cannot say I got an answer to my question. I did lay my body back against the warmth of the rocks and stared at the sky. I even stood on one leg like the goose and giggled to think that would not gift rest. I took off my sweatshirt and cap so my body could cool. And with a bow to the mountains and geese I made my way back. Such contradictory images, sensations, and textures remind me that sometimes questions are like migrating geese...sometimes to leave them to rest and simply trust the journey.

Cross Hairs and Crossroads

I pondered the week and the image of cross hairs and crossroads floated into my mind. Sometimes to feel you're caught in the cross hairs, the aim directed at you. Other times to see through the cross hairs. We focus with intent and attention, seeing what needs to be seen, setting the goals and targets. Then there are crossroads. To simply walk the path, knowing that everything changes, evolves, and returns.  All we set our sights upon -the joy we would cling to and the stress or hurt we would push away - shall pass. Both shall twist and turn, like crossroads, beckoning us further down the path. 

May your day unfold like crossroads, delighting in the mystery and awe of the turns and twists. May you know the path is certain; your steps are well grounded. No need for cross hairs, giggle, the sights are ever changing… sweet mercy, ain't that grand!

Life's Weather Report

The mind racing as I sat in meditation. From this and that to that and this. I heard my mind, ever so harsh and strong, declare “thinking.” My heart replied “There is no judgment, just a reminder of how you can go about your day, unmindful, scattered about, doing this and that, everywhere but here in this moment. Begin again little one.” And oh the sweet smile I felt upon my face. Just this breath present and aware. So it was…. So it wasn’t. Another delicious and sweet smile welcoming the next breath, releasing to begin again.  Afterwards I checked the weather – “Passing shower.” Sweet mercy, Life does have a sense of humor! My laughter vibrated the pictures on the walls.  A day to savor sweet and delicious smiles.

Clouds of Dawn

Oh the sky is amazing this morning. The sun's path is changing. It has moved from the hill crest and is hidden behind the trees. But its light has created a halo in the sky. Little wispy clouds are floating across and are in the spotlight. The bottoms of the clouds are glowing yellow and then their color fades into a darker white. Just to the left a slightly larger cloud leads the way. Giggle, a mother elephant followed by the baby. The mother is outside the dome of the halo and stands stark white against the already blue sky of day, no longer sunrise. To watch the little one pass through the dome of light and become simply white upon blue, an amazing sight to see the passing and transition. The dome now stands empty of clouds, waiting for the next one to pass through and be touched. It is even tinier than the first and its whole being is illuminated with the dome's light. I know probably silly, but the imagery takes my breath. The larger cloud sits, untouched by the wind, waiting for the others to pass through and join it against the day's sky blue. And such shall be my day. Touched by brilliant light, stillness and dance, the mystery of transition, my breath creating the shapes and movement of the day.

Beauty of Now

At first, to think an autumn leaf, without its tether, clinging to the tree from which it had been released. Then, a quiet approach yielded the sight of a butterfly camouflaged as a leaf. Camouflaged only with its wings raised. What you cannot see are the brilliant orange and red colors, fiery and dazzling in their splendor when opened. On the tree it is a leaf. Nestled among leaves it is a flower. Nature's reminder that simply being in that moment, this moment now shields from all predators and limitations that would define and diminish.

Winged Balance

Company has arrived. Human and dogs. My normal quiet sacred morning rituals upended. Woven into my body, mind, and heart's fabric I feel unbalanced. Oh, I will politely excuse myself later today, when appropriate, for meditation. But for now, my heart smiles and balanced is restored. Meditation has no ruler, judge, time clock or report card.  A reminder itself that nothing in life is fixed, change is constant and not to become attached to things, doing, or how's. I sit in meditation because I walk in this world of change. I am one among all, moving upon wings of love. I opened my eyes this morning with breath and heart filled with love. That is the meditation. That is the sacred ritual. What greater ritual than to simply breathe "Life. Love. Alive."

Transmuting Moments

The sun has journeyed over the mountain hill, it is in a different place this morning. The wind is dancing with the trees. If this were the only moment of sight and then sight would be gone, the colors and shapes of trees would be so different from that gifted with the same moment in just a few hours. Who would be right?  And even if the moment of seeing the trees and sky were done at exactly the same time every day throughout the years, still the vision would be different as the earth moves around the sun. Like the proverb of blind men defining an elephant, one only feeling the trunk, another a leg and another only the tail. Whose sight is right? Whose wisdom and perception the truth? A reminder of how little we see. Only this moment is what we have. To be mindful of how we define ourselves, our day and others based only upon this one moment. But an even better and magnificent reminder of the expansive wonder and awe that is before us.... waiting, waiting, for us to see.

Welcoming Harvest

A most blessed day standing and sitting in the rhythm of nature, this first day of fall. To sit with metta, gratitude, and peace witnessing the transitions of nature and life. A reminder each moment and breath a harvest for seeds planted.  A day of abunDANCE. Namaste.

Unbarred Fierceness

So many have felt the power of nature. Her wind, water, earth, and fire. Today may my heart unleash an even greater force. To give honor to the devastation with the inviolable unbarred fierceness of hope. 

Goldilocks and the Full Moon

I felt like Goldilocks. This spot too hard. This spot too soft. Could not capture the moon's fullness. Then to pause and see leaves that are unseen at night framing the moon's illumination. Darkness framing light. Light giving shape to darkness. Like Goldilocks, I giggled... this spot is just right. Changing not where I stand but what I see.

Magic Wand

And were it true that I had a magic wand that I would wave throughout my day...what would I do?

Wait! Giggle.... I DO!

It is my heart and the power of choice. Get ready world... my wand is waving the day's wonder and awe.

Absorbing Absorption and Reflection

As I stood and gazed upon the street light beaming down upon the fresh snow fall, I was struck by the difference of the earth. Were not the snow there, only the stream of light would be seen and the earth would be shadowed in contours of black.  But with the snow, the earth reflected back the light and shadows now were hues of blue not black.  Absorption and reflection and yet one light, one earth.

And from such reverie I thought of my breath. The inhale as the earth, drawing in, absorbing, growing inward with the nourishment like the roots of trees.  The exhale, reflecting the light drawn in, extending outward and upward like the trees that are visible to our eyes.  My exhale moves upward through the earth, reaching outward, creating and changing space and time. It is presence. 

Absorption and reflection.  Sweet mercy, may the trees I exhale, the reflection I gift, be wide spanned branches of love.

Changing the Directions

A windy walk by the lake just as the sun peeked above the mountains.  As I walked I could feel the movement of my body, like a ship in the sea, meeting and re-directing the wind. A leaf fell straight down from a tree but was redirected when it plopped against my cheek.  I confess it became a game.  Turning my head, lifting my arm and even walking sideways to feel the change created.  I am not sure "who" changed "whom" but both the wind and my body, my heart and little spirit changed.  To think every time I move....I change the universe. Wind that would have been going in one direction was now going in another.  Quantum physics (which my little brain cannot grasp) talks about the energy we project upon the earth and towards each other.   May the energy and direction I create be that of compassion, understanding, forgiveness, gratitude, humility and courage.

In each moment, you are changing the universe

Equinox Encore

Within the cupped hands of the timeless, the changeless and the changing rest. The seasons have changed only for those whose source of life returns to the roots awaiting winter's meditation. For the changeless the sap remains, not as strong, but enough to hold their adornment.  The timeless stands, weathered perhaps, but without sap it stands in its strength.

A picture to capture the beginning and continuation of all seasons. Like the dance of the soul unpretentious, flamboyant, graceful strength, stilled and lifted and a final pirouette. Tis the autumn equinox and the timeless holds forth Her cupped hands and gift, whispering, 'Encore."

First Migration

First migration! First migration..... first migration. If only computer typed words could sing the song of my heart to see the first dance of geese across the sky, silhouettes against the rising sun as I began an early morning walk. Sigh... if only you could know this simple childlike heart that stood breathless to watch.  First migration, the return home. The call in their hearts that lift their wings and the journey begins.

I have walked the seasons, counting not years, but the rhythm and dance of seasons as they turn the pages of my life. Sometimes the rhythm leaves dog eared pages turned down to remember or threads dangling as bookmarks.  As their dance carried them beyond my eyes, the sun drew my eyes to see the green leaf covered in morning dew. The green of spring's kiss glimmering in the sun.  Next week is autumn's equinox yet spring continued to bathe a leaf. 

 Just beyond the glistening drops of spring's kiss the sun painted what was to come. Against the yellow of autumn, shawled with the red of fire and life, the grass created a shadow of fall's naked dancing tree. Spring and summer's luminous kiss against the rhythm of fall dancing onto the stage.

First migration.  The call to journey home.  Spring's kiss and autumn's naked fiery dance.  Another page turned. Another threaded bookmark.  And a whispered prayer to all who might see and maybe even to feel this morning reverie, 'Lift your wings. Dance lightly onto the stage. May your heart rejoice in the rhythm with the assurance, she knows the way Home.'

Seek the sun

I knelt down upon the ground and stared at the oak leaf with its clinging cluster of three acorns. Looking up at all the oak trees I wondered which one was planting her seeds.  They were all oak trees yet not one was an exact replica of the other.  Within each acorn was thousands of years of the essence of oak trees yet how they grew, the dance of their limbs and the bending or straightness of their trunks would reflect their own uniqueness that would develop as they responded to life and the seasons of change. I pondered the seasons awaiting the acorns, so much awaited their cracking open until at last, neither shell nor earth could keep them from knowing the sun ...and change.

Standing up the flower's petals whispered. Delicate, soft and gentle unlike the solid oaks. Both flower and oak will forever hold their essence, their choices, change and loss inflicted and change and loss chosen.  One cannot cut out the past or what was.  But in the strength of the tall oaks and the defiance of their tiny acorns who thought themselves to be mighty oaks, and the gentle folding of a flower's petals, one lesson, one whisper, one thread would forever be constant... Life is unfolding, seek the sun.

Threaded Bookmark

I gather feathers, I write and search for threads and if I’m graced, nature whispers to me a thread to ponder.  I know well the hurried gentle pat on the head and the sound of “that’s nice…” and their moving on. Standing beneath the night sky before dawn, like a hand paused in the middle of turning the page, the stars whispered of life as change yet life as being. A seed simply is, acts from its nature without question or fear.  Yet in that being is constant change as it unfolds into a flower, plant, blade of grass or tree. Being. Change. And in neither does it ask permission, to be understood or approved.  I gather feathers, I write and search for threads, and if I’m graced nature offers a whispered thread to ponder. And as the stars danced, their patterns like glitter spilled upon the table, I drew a deep breath in and whispered,

Sweet, sweet mercy, I, I…. am the thread.

You have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour.
Now you must go back and tell the people that this is The Hour.
And there are things to be considered:

  Where are you living?

  What are you doing?  What are your relationships?  Are you in right relation?  Where is your water?  Know your garden.  It is time to speak your Truth.

Create your community. Be good to each other. And do not look outside yourself for the leader.

This could be a good time!

There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are being torn apart, and they will suffer greatly.

Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above the water. See who is in there with you and celebrate.

At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally. Least of all, ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.

The time of the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves!

Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary.

All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

We are the ones we've been waiting for.

—The Elders Oraibi
Arizona Hopi Nation