Parsed and Released

You can feel the calendar quivering. You can feel the months passed, heavy upon the nail holding them to the wall and the last page, weighted with such a busy month. It is a quivering of knowing, not only will the page be lift but the entire calendar will be released. All that was, all that was to be and all that was not known have had their dance... time for take off.

Do I dare hope to be so free?

Do I dare hope to be?

Do I dare hope?

Do I dare?

Do I?

Do.

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.

Faces of the Moon

She called from Missouri because she knew the moon is precious to me. The moon there, an hour ahead of mountain time, was full and red and almost caused her to drive off the road so amazing was the sight.  I stood at the picture window, watching my moon tree. The tree that always gently holds the moon as she rises and lifts her into the night sky. The clouds were too many. Her face I would not see.

And as I pondered how the same moon has one face elsewhere and another here, my eye caught the reflection of the prism in the window touched by the street light.  The prism that in the morning dances with the sun creating rainbows on my walls.  Tonight, I could not see the moon but the Light, timeless, never hidden, shown through to gift the gift of light and sight.  The sweet sweet Hands of Life.... Love and Light.

To Turn the Page

Sometimes in the vastness of everything, the comings and goings, the doings and demands, the texture of life can get lost.  A child will always make a bee line for the lake’s water with a frantic parent running behind calling their name.  An elderly person walking slowly with their four legged child speaking quietly and if you look you’ll see such softness in their eyes. The leaves, caught in autumn’s breeze dance and prepare to take flight only to crash against a metal fence. You can almost see, in their pause, their bewilderment, having taken flight, and then they rest upon the ground, content. 

So much life in front of us, and in Life’s infinity, never an end. There is no hand that writes “The End” only the gentle touch that turns the page and continues to whisper the next chapter. Winter is coming, and all retreat inside. The season of reflection and quiet.  Would that we carry the winter’s rhythm each day and see the textures of Life and Love.  Maybe, I wonder, if we did, the hurts and sorrows we cause or suffer might diminish …. Having learned to see Life’s little things, to turn the page.…the true tapestry of Life….Love.

To Leave Your Thread

Amidst the wonder of fall a clearing called and beckoned me to come and sit.  The ponderings and threads I left here, so simple, unwise and insignificant, need not litter the clearing or its call.  Rather, it is the call to come and sit that is the thread I leave for you. May it be a welcomed bookmark for your day.