Cathy's Blog!

Posted on June 14, 2026 by Cathy Edgett

Exchange

Last night I was drawn to re-read Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. Perhaps it was a response to our White House being taken over by thugs.

Today on NextDoor I read that a mountain lion was caught on camera bringing down an adult deer by Eastwood Park, the park I walk to regularly. It was 7 PM so it was still light though the fog was embracing the ridge and valley in mist and gray.

The comments on the photo were on the grace of living here, of observing and living so clearly with transformation in nature and energy exchange.

11:11 this morning. Invitation to merge and reflect

The path and surroundings echo what winds within

Posted on June 13, 2026 by Cathy Edgett

The Grannies Sing

Go to YouTube and watch The House of the Epstein Crimes. That may lead you to the grannies singing Things That Go Trump in the Night. The tide is turning. Celebrate!

Let fireworks speak this Fourth of July and drown out lies, corruption, and deceit.

Posted on June 12, 2026June 12, 2026 by Cathy Edgett · 2 Comments

Change: Enchantment

Yesterday it was hot and clear here, but then, I felt the wind shift from east to west, and knew the fog was moving in on its journey to cool and embrace. The branches of the trees played in the breeze, and in an hour or so, I saw wisps on the ridge. In the next hour, all was completely gray, and in the night our motion detector kept lighting up with the sway of the trees. This morning when I rose, I was surprised to see fog only on the ridge, and then, 20 minutes later, it was gone. Impermanence.

I sway now gently, back and forth, forward and back, circling like bamboo, the symbol of enlightenment in Japanese gardens, or like kelp in the sea. Swaying, feeling, moved by breath. Memories filter through like the dance of fog, like mist, sprinkled with fairy dust.

Fog creeping over the ridge at 6:09 this morning after clearing in the night.

And now I look again at 7:54. And so it goes, in and out, like breath.

A soft hover, and then, by 8:00, all is clear again.

Posted on June 11, 2026June 11, 2026 by Cathy Edgett

Open to Receive

A friend is retiring from her career as a therapist. As she comes to final meetings with long-term clients, she asks how to receive their gratitude and accolades. I sit with that as I look out on a beautiful blue-sky day. All is receiving. Being is receiving, Radiating is receiving. We live in relationship.

The flower opens to receive the bee.

Posted on June 10, 2026 by Cathy Edgett

How We See

Today I was in the Sausalito book store Books by the Bay talking to a friend who works there and who was just at the Monet Exhibit at the De Young. She read a poem to me, one I love, and hearing it read aloud is different than reading it silently and alone.

The poem is: “Monet Refuses the Operation” by Lisel Mueller.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52577/monet-refuses-the-operation-56d231289e6db

What’s seen and scene in and around the rose?

Posted on June 9, 2026 by Cathy Edgett

Sausalito

Yesterday I was in Sausalito. It’s even more welcoming with tables and chairs and a piano to play.

Posted on June 8, 2026June 8, 2026 by Cathy Edgett

Looking Down

Walking around my neighborhood I crossed the bridge to Eastwood Park, and took a photo of the creek. When I looked at the photo, I saw a perfect reflection of the sky. I was brought to consider even more deeply my steps, and where I place my feet. The ground and I reflect.

Posted on June 6, 2026 by Cathy Edgett

Folding and Unfolding

Misty Hannah led us today in Sensory Awareness on Zoom. She began with how she was folding her laundry today, folding and unfolding, noticing weight and texture.

She invited us to feel our shape, and then slowly to fold down, and then unfold back up and bring our arms out. I became an egret, a heron, with wings broad and scooping the air. My arms were fluid, not fixed like an airplane wing.

Folded, I felt open in the back of the spine, breath pouring in, fluid. When I unfolded back up, my head kept moving on its wand of a neck making figure 8’s, a dance of infinity.

As I fold and unfold, and knots untie, I’m reminded of Rilke’s wonderful poem from the Book of Hours: Love Poems to God.

If we surrendered

to earth’s intelligence

we could rise up rooted, like trees.

Instead we entangle ourselves

in knots of our own making

and struggle, lonely and confused.

So, like children, we begin again ..

to fall,

patiently to trust our heaviness.

Even a bird has to do that

before he can fly.

The earth folds and unfolds, rises and falls.

Posted on June 5, 2026 by Cathy Edgett

Heaven

Leaving early to walk Tennessee Valley to the beach, I saw a deer at the top of our driveway, and then, three more along the path to the beach. Quail were hidden but sounding: qua querko, and so many birds were singing, I felt I was in a jungle. What a gift of a morning!

Posted on June 4, 2026June 4, 2026 by Cathy Edgett

Bathing

I’ve written about Forest Bathing before, the benefits of receiving from our plant friends, but yesterday I walked to Tennessee Valley beach with a friend, and another friend spoke of Beach Bathing. What can we learn from the sea, rocks, and sand?

Today I did Hisorty, an app where you can play with and reconnect with the timeline of history. My son thinks it’s too easy, and it can be, but I like seeing how events align.

From Hisorty: Code of Ur-Nammu: In 2050 B.C. the Sumerian king of Ur issued the earliest surviving written law code, predating Hammurabi by three centuries and laying the foundation for legal systems in Mesopotamia.

And here we are now, being re-introduced to how essential it is to follow the laws of ethics and morality.