Morning

This morning, I sat by the window andI watched the day come to light.  Already I see and feel a change, an internal harmonizing with the tilt of the earth’s access which brings this change where I live.  The light is young, new, and tender, as it reaches into our own internal and receptive light.  

I’m reading One Hand Clapping: Unraveling the Mystery of the Human Mind by neuroscientist Nikolay Kukushkin. It allows me to appreciate even more the evolution and adaptation that lead to the creation of lungs, sight, perception, connection.

I contemplate this poem by Zen Master Issa:

This world of dew

Is a world of dew

And yet, and yet …

And I welcome and meet what’s continually new., the changing of the Light.

Thank you rocks and plants!
Learning from a dock that senses it’s time to drop
Reflecting

 

Wind

The wind and rain are wild today.  I kept expecting Mary Poppins to drop in as the windchimes swing announcing change.  In my study of the four elements of which we’re composed, earth, water, fire, and wind, for some reason wind can sometimes be elusive for me. 

I know it is the breath, spirit, pushing, pulsing, moving, vibration and support, so I feel awareness and awakeness blowing through, and then I pause, and listen. With that, the tolling of the chime slows and stops, for a moment.

I’m reading In Praise of Listening by Christian McEwen.  Two tidbits round my thoughts.

John Cage, a composer and musical theorist wrote this about listening for the muse.  

When you start working everybody in your studio – the past, your friends, enemies, the art world, and above all, your own ideas – all are there. But as you continue painting, they start leaving, one by one, and you are left completely alone. Then, if you are lucky, even you leave.

And there’s the inspiration of the Zen name of Leonard Cohen who practiced Zen meditation for more than thirty years. His name in the monastery was Jikan, “the silence between two thoughts”. 

A friend  spoke recently of feeling his hands as clouds.  I know the sky above today’s gray, roiling turmoil is blue, even as the clouds of touch, change, thoughts and feelings blow through.

Blossoms in the rain
Look closely – tiny birds are here

Veteran’s Day

Today we honor those who’ve served our country in the armed forces.  My grandfather served in WWI.  My father, uncle, and aunt served in WWII.

I honor and revere contribution, connection, and sacrifice.  On this day, where I am, sun beams peace.   

I round on this poem by Linda Hogan, “The Way In”.

The Way In

Sometimes the way to milk and honey is through the body.

Sometimes the way in is a song.

But there are three ways in the world: dangerous, wounding,

and beauty.

To enter stone, be water.

To rise through hard earth, be plant

desiring sunlight, believing in water.

To enter fire, be dry.

To enter life, be food.

~ Linda Hogan ~

(Rounding the Human Corners)

Morning Sky

May Day

I’ve been in a pause of silence.  I caught a cold from my grandson and that has pulled me into an inner landscape.  It’s odd to have survived the “pandemic” and then be caught up in the inner journey of contemplation and analysis of retreat that healing invites.

As a child, the evening before this day we made baskets of construction paper and filled them with candy and flowers, which early in the morning we hung on the doorknobs of our neighbors.

This morning I’m looking out on beauty, a half moon bright in a blue sky.  My husband and Friend Skunk met this morning and each calmly went their own way.  Two deer visit our yard in the early morning hours these days.

I’ve been thinking about impermanence.  A friend suggests writing quotes I love on a piece of paper torn in a strip and folded into a circle like a little boat.  Float the boat in water and watch the words and possibly paper dissolve.

I anchor that with these words of David Whyte:

Reality met on its own terms demands absolute presence, and absolute giving away, an ability to live on equal terms with the fleeting and the eternal, the hardly touchable and the fully possible, a full bodily appearance and disappearance, a rested giving in and giving up; another identity braver, more generous and more here than the one looking hungrily for the easy, unearned answer.

Orchid flowers again
The sky yesterday morning
Gardening on the roof at Slide Ranch
Monday morning beauty along the coast
Look closely to see a Woodpecker in my yard