Writing.Walking.Listening

We will be meeting on the 27th of this month at 1 pm in North Haven.  Honoring Voice is a workshop to deepen our connection and communication with all of Life.

I wish all of us would  be able to attend but fear not you can count on our group resuming late April for a 6 week meetup.

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at the beginning of february i began a daily practice of old fashioned scribing what i have called – Love Notes to Earth:  Field notes, scribbles, poems, calls to summon courage.  An offering to reopen the heart in these turbulent times.

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2.6.17
sparrows flock and feed on seed spilled onto the path I walk
from outstretched hands, the overflow – sunflower seeds cracked corn.
human feeders move on further toward the dark blue sea
then back to their cars having delighted in the abundance
by drawing the world that is mysterious and wild closer.
to give, and be given, to love and be loved,
to widen the circle of wonder and grace
sparrows fly off, save for one robust feathered soul
as he hops his weight bears more to the left than center.
little wing held in close
for a moment i question if this a ruse to distract
his feathers look healthy, eyes, dark ponds that knit mystery and humility
I bend and sidle closer, offering him my palm.
he is frightened and protects himself with a few springy hops toward the dense brush
in the past i would have scooped him up, placed him
in the upturned edge of my sweater toward the warmth of my belly
but i sensed I had to trust his intelligence and skills to tend –
that his world of thicket and bramble was his healing grounds
that despite my do good intentions, they might likely interfere with
his ability to work deep, use his instincts, find refuge and allow
wisdom to take over
I had to give way to his intelligence which is not “his” alone but the life force that moves through us all
trust his entrance into the wider wisdom
…in that moment winged and eyed, tiny heart beating the thicket takes him in

Winter doldrums have arrived…21, 22, 23.

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The brightly colored scales of a butterfly wing found last fall are good medicine.

It was bound to happen. It’s February. The excitement of a new year has worn off, as grey days settle in. Having a cold doesn’t help. Add to that a disappointment (perhaps more of a misunderstanding) with a friend. And of course the political weather which forms an inescapable background to everything these days (though I’ll guiltily admit to sticking my head under a pillow and avoiding the news lately). And there you have a recipe for winter doldrums. But – everywhere – there are messages to begin again….to persevere.

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After all, there is an entire cabinet of curiosities to paint and explore.

In Yoko Ono’s poem I included in this earlier post :  “winter passes….and one remembers one’s perseverance.”

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Three months after finding the bottom portion of an Eastern Box Turtles’s hinged plastron, I discovered the top portion this past Sunday.

In a friend’s post for the New Moon in Aquarius back on January 27:  “Mother Nature reminds us to start again. No matter how depressed or defeated we feel, each morning brings potential for a new beginning.”

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And last Thursday morning:  how could I have anticipated the blazing red coat, the incomparable efficiency and purposefulness,  the startling bushiness of a tail that nearly trailed along the ground, the moviestar-sharp looks, the black stockings….coming toward me this morning as I settled into my desk?  Who can ever say what surprises lie just up around the next corner?     (click to enlarge)

In my We’Moon calendar, a description of Imbolc, the pagan feast of returning light:  “In the deep winter, we begin again. We say Yes again: yes to returning light, to coming outward time, to living of life again…Imbolc is a time of faith.”

And in the song playing right now as I write, on my favorite Pandora station, the Nina Simone station:  “A Change is Gonna Come.”

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Continuing my sunrise series…trying to capture the bright magenta pink of the sky, the searing yellow-orange of the sun cutting through.