Branching, Branched

I’ve now cleaned everything out of one room except the moveable bookshelves.  The closet is empty and now when I speak, the room echoes.  Nothing catches or holds the vibrations of my words.  

I take that inside.  What if I’m not holding onto memories, especially judgments and/or grudges?  I feel I need some anchoring within, some awareness of my travels, connections, and pilgrimages,  so I can respond with the wisdom of lessons learned through experience, and yet when is it too much?  When is there a need to open and cleanse?  

How much do I need to hold onto to feel connected and safe?  

Might I choose to be like a bird with the warmth of a nest and the ability to fly through a sky bracketed with branches like shelves?  What wisdom does the bird harvest from grasses and leaves?

Awareness
Contemplation
Flight
Birds of Paradise

The Season

We enter awareness of passage more deeply this time of year.  

As I observe the memories of some friends slip apart, I wonder about construction. What memories come together, and why, and how. What stays and what departs?

Meanwhile, I await the birth of a friend’s grandchild.  My heart beats with excitement for the journey before him, and for how the entry of a little one affects each one of us.  

I keep returning to the image and support of this wooden Christmas tree puzzle, considering how we each stand with our center support as pieces gather around and in us to make a whole.  

As pieces fit and fall apart

Walking the channel to the park