There’s a softness to the light as darkness comes. I light a candle each morning and settle into the pulsing approach of winter, this seasonal exchange of light and dark. I circle my spine and pelvis, dig more deeply into expansion, grateful for more time to look up and out and be with more stars than the essential gift of our sun.
When we were in Monterey recently, I was enchanted with the aquarium. I’d never seen anchovies circling in the Kelp Forest before. Now, I read that they’re not always there. These will be eaten by bigger fish within two weeks.
That morning, I’d been enchanted with this sculpture. After seeing the anchovies, I knew what it represented.
We were in Monterey this weekend with the rhythm of the tides. Here are anemones at low tide Saturday morning.
The July full moon is called the Buck Moon because antlers of male deer are in full growth mode. I woke in the night and the room was bright with moonlight. Look up tonight and savor reflecting within as growth comes.
The moon symbolizes enlightenment to Buddhists, and you may have noticed the brightness of this full moon. It was a bright light both in the evening and in the morning.
Yesterday was the Day of Vesak, a day to celebrate Buddha’s birth, enlightenment, and death. Since I was at the ocean last week, I’ve continued to feel the waves in the oceans in me, the continents, the always moving change and flow.
Mark Twain wrote:
I am an old man, and I have known a great many troubles, but most of them never happened.
I’m with that this morning, laughing with the twitter-tweeting of birds. I’m eating my first cherries of the season, and yes, my life is a bowl full of cherries as I offer the pits to the yard wondering if one or two will choose to sink into the ground and rise as a tree.
One of my Mother’s Day gifts was a bottle of perfume from Powell’s bookstore called “Eau de bookstore”.
I’ve missed being in bookstores. Browsing them is one of my favorite things to do and with the pandemic, that was out, so there the books were shut up inside, and I, on the outside looking in.
Of course my house is filled with books but there’s something about a bookstore, the arrangement, exploration, discovery, and excitement that I’ve missed.
Before I opened the bottle, we discussed what the smell would be. Would it be musty or filled with light? I sprayed the scent, and yum. The smell was pure delight.
The blurb says: “The riveting scent of books, with subtle hints of wood and violet, come together in Powell’s by Powell’s. Wherever you are, experience the comfort and nostalgia of Portland’s most iconic bookstore. You won’t be able to put it down.”
It’s true. I inhale and exhale the enchanting smell of wisdom and connection shared over the years!!
When I went through chemotherapy, I learned that in receiving, I was giving. I didn’t have the energetic resources to give anything but reception and I saw the gift in that, the beauty of completing a circle of exchange.
Gracious acceptance is an art – an art which most never bother to cultivate. We think that we have to learn how to give, but we forget about receiving things, which can be much harder than giving.
– Alexander McCall Smith.
When the basis for your actions is inner alignment with the present moment, your actions become empowered by the intelligence of Life itself.
– Eckhart Tolle
The sun has officially announced that it’s spring thanks to our planet’s revolving and tilt on its axis. Though it’s spring, it’s 39 degrees here this morning and yet the birds are happily singing and looking for mates and places to build their nests. The shift is clear.
Yesterday I was on a Zoom call where the woman leading was alone in a beautiful landscape in Canada. She sat by a wood fire she kept feeding with sticks of wood. Wrapped in a parka, she was next to a snow-covered frozen lake that was lined with evergreen trees. I, and others, felt we smelled the smoke as it wafted up into the air, and I thought what is imagination and memory in our lives. I felt cold as though I, too, was in a frozen landscape. People mentioned hot chocolate and s’mores. I wondered what signals the smoke was sending, what message the logs were giving as they gave warmth and light and changed form.
I found myself with trees and space. I wondered how it was for the trees to watch a wood fire, and then, I wondered if that’s what we’re always doing as we see others and ourselves age. I shifted into a different landscape of transformation and change.
There was, and is, a oneness to the feel, trees, landscape, frozen lake, wood, snow, and sun that gives burning energy and warm assurance to our lives. Now, today, I look out on the sun-kissed sky as I welcome what this new day offers and brings.
Friends are going through chemotherapy right now which may be why I’ve wondered what to post. My experience comes back, and I remember the beauty of connection, the clarity and gratitude that we are all one and we do a great deal to save the life of another.
Lately I’ve been with the uniqueness of each one of us, the uniqueness of our experience and perception.
Recently I read The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion. As reading does, it allows one entry into the mind of another, a man with Aspergers. It’s laugh out loud funny in places and yet there’s a deeper stream of compassion and strength holding it all together. Though it’s a trilogy, I only read the first book. It was enough, and I’m with enough these days, knowing enough.
I’m grateful to be alive and well and able to feel the reverberations of all we create and share as we balance the tides and embrace and release with care.
Cathy's Blog! 