Today feels like a “free day” as we enter into this new year. We set intention and priorities.
I’m beginning to realize – well it’s been happening – that putting things off makes no sense. Life is movement, and all is moving around and in me. I recognize my place in all of this is to land, ground and respond.
I trust in my willingness to be moved.
I’m with these words of my teacher of Sensory Awareness Charlotte Selver:
If you have these two things – the willingness to change, and the acceptance of everything as it comes, you will have all you need to work with.
Yesterday I learned that I can’t use soft contact lenses, so I will be wearing glasses until the cataract surgery which I now learn will probably be available in six months, not three. For every decade of wearing hard contacts, it takes the eye a month to adjust back, so in my case, 60 years, six months.
I know this is an opportunity, and that I’d been stuck in a rut, and so this morning I sit here – hmmm – what is my mood?
I’m extremely aware of vision these days and I feel my vision cloud when I read and watch Marjorie Taylor Green deny wind turbines and solar panels because she doesn’t “wanna have to go to bed when the sun sets”. I thought it was a joke but no, I watch her saying it, and there’s applause. After all, who wants to go back to washing their clothes in a tub? Those who expose the dangers of Trump, what he tried and is still trying to do, that those people aren’t re-elected I find sobering.
A democracy can’t survive an uneducated populace and as much as I choose to stay positive, it’s hard not to wonder about this country and how we are now viewed in the world, especially since Trump’s theft of classified information endangers us all.
And with that, I’m with the changing clouds in the sky.What a gift!
The moon was still in the sky when I rose this morning. The moon influences the tides and I knew yesterday would be a low, low, so I went to the marsh to see the mud exposed where water often flows.
I think it’s clear these are challenging times, and as I walk by houseboats sitting on mud I think of how clearly those who live there know the rise and fall four times a day.
I’m with these words of Mark Matousek, from “A Splinter of Love”.
In grief we access parts of ourselves that were somehow unavailable to us in the past. With awareness, the journey through grief becomes a path to wholeness.
The marsh in JuneStranded Seaplanes Stranded boats for now – wait a few hours for the floatLifted as fairy tales do The Leaning Eiffel TowerCrossing from one path to the nextAbove it All!