Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Radiance

An owl hoots its last homage to the dark as light comes to reveal the sky is clear and now bound rays of sun turn the trees on the ridge crimson in welcome and delight. A new day!

 I’m with this well-known quote by Pierre Teilhard De Chardin: Some day, after we have mastered the winds, the waves, the tides, and gravity, we shall harness the energies of love.  Then, for the second time in history, man will have discovered fire.

And then this by Anthoine de Saint-Exupery comes my way.  If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people to collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.

It seems so simple. Longing for love, we build a ship harnessing the rays of love, binding them like the rays from the sun. We radiate ease.

I’m off to Inverness and Abbott’s Lagoon to be with a friend and look for otters, energetic generators of love in a magnificent place.   

A gift of heart – a gift of love


Posted on by Cathy Edgett

A Field of Love

Richard Rohr writes of a force field of love, what some might call God.

I watched the trailer with Tom Hanks playing Mr. Rogers in his neighborhood.  I think Mr. Rogers was a force field of love.

Lately I’ve been feeling my heart expanding, reaching out through fingers, like E.T.  curing hurts by bringing light from and through his heart. I look up the origin of “Home is where the heart is,” and there’s no clear answer so we each find out own.

For me, home is where my inner and outer landscape are one.  There’s no conflict between in and out. There’s a place of peace where I sit in a kaleidoscope of change, honoring the circling trust.

I’m with these words of Emily Dickinson: We turn not older with years, but newer every day.

Research is showing that once we pass through the midlife crisis, we settle into more and more happiness, more and more presence. Thich Nhat Hanh says that: People say walking on water is a miracle but to me walking peacefully on earth is the real miracle.

May this day be one of walking ourselves home, walking peacefully on and with the earth, being and cultivating a force field of love, as we meet and meld hard and soft, circulate tissue and bone.

Meeting liquidity, forming tissue and bone


  

Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Connect

I’ve been intrigued by a branch that extends up and out from a tree in our yard.  It’s flimsy and yet seems a sentry place and point of delight for a variety of birds, large and small, and for the squirrel who scampers out to the top and swings back and forth.

It allows me to consider what it is to stretch and play and even feel that the squirrel, and I, as I watch with my mirror neurons, have wings.

Today in my Sensory Awareness call, I became aware that in closing my eyes, the lid wasn’t quite meeting the ball of my eye.  There was a holding back, a gap, a “mind the gap” awareness of an unconnected space.  

Curious, I explored and realized in my intention to live in impermanence, I had forgotten, or denied a place for tears.  I was trying to be brave, a noble pursuit, of course, but it is a pursuit, and not a momentary response.

I felt the tightness in my jaw, and in allowing that noticing, the hinge began to loosen and I felt the lower part of my jaw, the support for the front of my teeth, let go, like a hammock or net springing back and forth.  

There was rest there, movement, and support, and that allowed moisture to come and fill the space of my eyes, and with that wetness, a fluid glue, lid and ball came together to rest in connection, to kiss.

The heart moistens when we feel love.  So do the eyes. Moisten and connect in the joyful grace of swinging and living fluid and elastic. It is our birthright. It is our birth rite to use all of our being and trust the net.

Find a branch and swing



Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Unfolding

I wake this summer Monday morning aware of unfolding. The fog is in and I see a tinge of pink. It will lift early today, dissipate, or perhaps it is that it unfolds as I intend to allow today.

I scan through this living that appears to be mine though it expands out to involve watering plants and petting, feeding, and kissing kitties and Steve. Words and purrs are shared. Coffee grown far away moves through me, an awakening lake. My small and intimate sensory awareness group meets this morning on Zoom and I look at notes from the past to prepare. I open doors. What is mine to share?

I come to words by Dawn Prince-Hughes, a woman with Aspergers. In her struggle to understand human communication, she began to sit outside the window of the enclosure for the silverback gorillas at the Seattle zoo.  One day she arrived upset. Congo, a silverback male gorilla noticed and rushed to the window. He motioned her to put her head on his shoulder. They touched through the glass.   They felt the glass as fluid.

She says: 

I probably stayed with him like that, with my head on his shoulder, for 30 minutes or so. I think it was probably the first time I was genuinely comforted by another person. Congo really set the standard for what social interactions should be like between me and another living being. You just can’t worry about looking like a fool. You can’t worry about getting hurt. You can’t worry about whether you’re right or not. It just boils down to wanting to be connected at all costs, at all risks. I no longer wanted to allow the permeability of my spirit to seek smaller and smaller shelters. It requires a completely open heart. I felt like I found a way to go home through the glass. — Dawn Prince-Hughes

I sit with that this morning, feeling my heart open through all barriers, a flower in full bloom, nestled with other hearts, connected at the root.

A white Iris symboling purity offering essence to my yard.


Roses cluster in different stages; branch.




Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Peace

Yesterday an artist friend invited me and others to her space in the ICB building in Sausalito to make a book. The historic Industrial Center Building is by the bay and driving there is a return to the past, to a place where ships were made during World War II.  I made my way past an array of artist’s studios as I climbed the stairs to the third floor and her studio with a view.  

The book I made is a sweet little thing in blues and greens, 2 inches by 3, with a shell glued like a golden light to the front.  A young girl across from me made a book and filled hers with drawings. Mine is still blank, waiting, as perhaps I wait, for the next call.

I sit here now realizing that if everyone had access to paints and pens, paper and a floor made colorful with unintended drops in patterns, abstract with no need to clean up, we would all find our way to peace.

Walking with my book over to the bay, I passed fragrant and colorful roses, then sat with seals and cormorants. Even more refreshed and renewed, I walked over to Fish and bought fresh, sustainable halibut which Steve grilled after making a sauce of tomatoes, basil, and Parmesan cheese.  With a salad and a bottle of Chardonnay, we shared a grateful feast, a once in a lifetime grateful feast. It will never be repeated, never again, not like that.

Life is changing for so many I know, death a metronome. Be here. Be here now. As Thich Nhat Hanh says: The path is peace. Be peace.  

This Sunday morning I look out to a ridge cloaked in fog, beckoning resonance with ease.

View from Ingrid’s Art Studio


Seals and Cormorants rest and enjoy the bay


Roses give beauty and scent



Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Light

Each morning I rise and after a time come to this window that looks out on the ridge, rising bushes and a redwood tree.  The branches were pruned to a foot above deck level a couple of months ago but now rise higher and higher each day, light green new sprouts delicate in this soft, morning fog light.  I know there’s a heat wave elsewhere but here it’s summer Bay area cool and my eyes dance in the lightness of ever-changing and nourishing light.  

Leaves dance with light


Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Homage to Flowers and Trees

Today I attended a dharma talk in Point Reyes Station.  Susan Moon continued the theme of trees by speaking of a favorite childhood tree, and talking about famous trees in history, so the tallest, biggest, oldest.   I learned that wood stores carbon so the wood lining the church windows and walls, the pews, the piano, all help with climate change. Wood products store carbon for life. No wonder I love wood so, no matter what its form.

We divided into threes to talk about how our childhoods were affected by either a personal tree or a troupe of them.

I spoke about the tree I climbed up into as a child to sit on top of the world feeling embraced.  I also spoke of the Redwood tree that reached out to me to stroke my back with a branch when, as an adult,  I was crying. Then, I remembered back to when we lived on the Mississippi River, and I walked in what I perceived of as my own personal forest. I was around ten.

One man spoke of raking leaves as a child. It was a meditation and even as he spoke, I felt a comforting sweep, the rhythm of breath surrendering to a task. We bonded in sharing our memories of trees.

More observant now, receptive, we looked outside and noticed that trees were looking into the room, and even though rooted, were swaying in the wind. We walked out grateful for all that trees give: oxygen, witnessing, shade, texture, variety, food, and emotional support.

Flowers offer color, scent, vitality, and rest









Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Evening

The fog offers mist to thoughts and skin.

Today I met with a friend who read my latest book “Airing Out the Fairy Tale” straight through, and now reads it again, pausing at each line, pausing and meditating.

She’s not the first to say that is her experience, which I find gratifying as the book is meant to be a book of meditation, not just search, and even what might be perceived as privilege to venture.

Grateful, I light a candle and sit in the flickering light of support and trust. Asking, we receive, and this I’m continually shown and believe.

Believe and Receive



Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Rooting and Rising

There is so much love, beauty, compassion, and connection in this world that it comforts, exhilarates, and lifts me.  I’ve seen a multitude of positive changes in my lifetime. I focus there.

I wake this morning, rested and calm, rise and see the decks and yard are wet with mist from fog.  I feed Tiger and Bella, make a cup of coffee and take that first, fragrant sip. Interdependence flows through me as I savor all that is required to partake in that wakening sip.

I read Ilhan Omar’s response to Trump..

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

-Maya Angelou

Yes, still, like air, we’ll rise, and yet, our nervous system are branched and twined like the roots of a tree.  Mine feel a little shaky this morning. How is anyone allowed to spout hate as he does, and why does he want to?

“Shiver my timbers” by Popeye the Sailor Man comes to mind.  It’s used to express “shock, surprise, or annoyance”. It’s not enough to say my timbers are shaking this morning as I try to balance knowing love, love, love, is the answer and the only way to survive and thrive, and yes, “still, like air”, we rise.

Petals gather and open, lift and rise