Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Connection

Today I took my six year old grandson to school.  We were early so we walked to a thick rope swing, a rope thick as his arm,  and he climbed up on a broken and deteriorating tree trunk, and swung.  He informed me he was an acorn and I was a squirrel.  I figured out I was meant to catch him, so I made squirrel sounds, and reached out as he swung one way, and then, another, and, then,  in circles.  

I, as a squirrel, caught and missed him many times, recognizing my arms were longer proportionally than a squirrel’s arms would be, but then, normally acorns stay in one place.  

Then, Grandchild noticed there were six rounds of wood placed next to the stump, and they weren’t there yesterday.  Some older children came by, and they, too, were intrigued by the six new circles of wood.  Why were they there and who put them there? The conclusion was that they were for taller children who didn’t need to climb up on a stump to catch the end of the rope, or that maybe they were meant to be run along before catching the rope.  

Because we had to get to class, we left the children in the discussion, but now, home, I’m with it and with what it is to be an acorn hanging from a swinging branch, and what it is to be a squirrel contemplating acorns and planning for feasting and storage.  We’re entering the time of winter as we step on and crunch falling leaves, and so capped like the cap of an acorn, we’re wired to think about surviving when food isn’t plucked simply and easily from trees.  

It seemed so simple, this line of rope hanging from a tree.  By myself, I might have walked right by it, unaware, unquestioning, but because of immersion with children, and because I’ve been re-reading Winnie the Pooh for the zillionth time, and struggling with The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky for the first, I’m with the minds of children and how they relate and perceive.  Aren’t we all meant to meet this world with curiosity and discussion as to possibilities?  Aren’t we meant to notice how we connect and transform with the ease of trees, squirrels, acorns, and other beings?

Shared Warmth at Slide Ranch
Intertwined

Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Zen Painting

In Zen painting, we may not be given color, only the single hue of ink. The intention is to bring forth that we each see color differently, so for each of us, there is a different interpretation of the range and layers in each stroke of black.  We zero in on light and shadow, and receive our mood, perception, integration and need of contrast, light, time and space. 

What’s seen?

Posted on by Cathy Edgett

San Francisco

Yesterday a friend and I took the ferry from Larkspur Landing to the city.  We enjoyed lunch with our book group at MOMA and walking back to the ferry I was struck by a sculpture that I wanted to find the name of which led me to an on-line exploration of sculpture in San Francisco.  Check it out:

Public Art

We went up to the gardens at the SalesForce building, rather an eyesore from where I see it in Marin, but up close, it rises beautifully, and the gardens are amazing, so I offer a taste.  

A Planetary Journey
Bamboo
Fuchsia flowers claim their name
Beauty beckons
Sink into the center and expand
Buildings reflect buildings
And so we wait for a bus to pass
Along the street
As we walk, I spy the sculpture called Standing Man. Color and unity abound.



Posted on by Cathy Edgett · 2 Comments

Perception

Last week I took my usual plethora of photos at Stinson Beach but one stayed with me. This morning, I shared the photo with my son and he pointed out that what I had interpreted as an unusual wave was a shark.  He then sent me a diagram showing that, like an iceberg, 90% of the shark can be underwater and we may see only the fin. 

Now I see it clearly as a shark, grateful I didn’t pop in for a swim.

What do you see?
Shark? Dolphin? Submarine?

Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Reflecting

Today on a Sensory Awareness call with Misty Hannah, she worked on being with not knowing, with stepping into the unknown and letting the unknown surprise us.  What happens when we peel a spring onion?  What responds inside?  Outside?  Together?  Apart?

She requested we not name what we noticed.  I listened to the rain on the roof, trees, and outside walls without naming it, and felt an answering response within – fluidity – waves – connection.

Later, Michael Atkinson pointed out that medieval maps had an area called Terra Incognita, Unknown Territory, marked, at times, with “There be dragons here!” or “Here are dragons.”

What happens when we allow entry into unknown territory?  Are dragons enlivening this Chinese Year of the Dragon?  What are we exploring and what explores within us? How do I meet what comes?

Yesterday I stepped out of my car into a puddle.  It was an experience of awakening – dry, wet, warm, cold – Awake!

Where is focus? What do I see?
What pops out and organizes into form?
Hard or soft, rough or smooth, heavy or light – tail or stem
Where is balance?
Where is height?
Heron shadow on the water emerging from under the edge of the deck

Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Tis the Season

In reading Robert Macfarlane’s wonderful book Landmarks, I learned that John Constable invented the verb “to sky” meaning “to lie on one’s back and study the clouds”.

I love to look at the sky, the changes, and the stars at night, and I also use this time of year to sink deeper into reflecting, reflection, and going within.

Reflecting by the early morning marsh
Trees double their impact within the creek
Houses on the hill mirrored within the creek
Illusion requests reflective entry into what reels and reveals

Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Transformation

The rain pours down.  We’ve had hail, thunder, lightning, the works, and I feel a cleansing as roots are nourished and pampered.  Yes, continuing rain is creating problems, and I’m with these words of Robin Wall Kimmerer:

If grief can be a doorway to love, then let us all weep for the world we are breaking apart so we can love it back to wholeness again.

Transition in Grays