I'd like to be a firefly,
appearing out of nowhere
in one place and then
in an instant (!)
appearing in another.
Yes, I know
he flew from one place
to the other,
but
He was invisible
while in flight.
slicing nectarines,
sticky juice running over
my fingers and down my arms,
i am engaged by their sweet essence.
then
i hear the low rumble --
the water is almost ready for the pasta;
it's almost boiling,
(as i was just moments ago....)
but
in this moment
i have become completely aware
of the juicy nectarines,
the rolling, boiling water --
i have become completely aware that i
am making lunch.
June 2, 2009
Where does the luna
moth fly to when the porch light
stops it's flickering?
June 10, 2009
I see her again,
beating her wings, shallow breath,
dying in the grass.
I pick her up and
wonder where her wings took her
and what did she see?
June 16, 2009
Wondering again...
where my wings will take me; will
I like what I see?
If you need a jumpstart to your day, then play this video and crank it up. This is the kids' and mine favorite video to "shake it" to. It never fails to leave us all in smiles... : )
(Warning: If you want to leave out the expletives, skip to 32 seconds.)
Enjoy. And get your groove on (you know you want to)...
I had a nice little talk with my son John (7) this morning about the mystery of life... about god...beauty...about not knowing, not ever having all the answers... and being okay with that...
Everybody's wonderin' what and where they all came from.
Everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go when the whole thing's done.
But no one knows for certain and so it's all the same to me.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
Some say once you're gone you're gone forever, and some say you're gonna come back.
Some say you rest in the arms of the Saviour if in sinful ways you lack.
Some say that they're comin' back in a garden, bunch of carrots and little sweet peas.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
Everybody's wonderin' what and where they all came from.
Everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go when the whole thing's done.
But no one knows for certain and so it's all the same to me.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
Some say they're goin' to a place called Glory and I ain't saying it ain't a fact.
But I've heard that I'm on the road to purgatory and I don't like the sound of that.
Well, I believe in love and I live my life accordingly.
But I choose to let the mystery be.
Everybody's wonderin' what and where they all came from.
Everybody's worryin' 'bout where they're gonna go when the whole thing's done.
But no one knows for certain and so it's all the same to me.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
I think I'll just let the mystery be.
I walked outside this morning to watch the morning sun color the fields. As I watched, enamored by the mist and golden hues and birdsong, Meggie opened the door, came out, and quietly stood beside me. Leaning there together against the railpost , watching and listening to everything, especially the birds -- I counted at least six different types of birds calling, but there were many more than that -- I asked her: "Do you hear all the birdies singing?" Smiling sweetly she replied "Yes mommy, I do. And they're all singing the 'Happy Birthday' song."
Smiling big I couldn't help but wonder... is she thinking the same thoughts as I am?! Is she too thinking that this day, that every day, is a rebirth? Is she aware that the birds - the swallows, orioles, crows, robins, cardinals, and blackbirds are each in their own way singing a celebration of the newness, the revival that the morning sun brings forth....?
Almost immediately the answers to my questions were revealed as Meggie in her most beautiful, most sweetest voice ever began to sing:
Happy Birthday to you.
You live in a zoo
You look like a monkeeeeeey
And you smell like one too.
I'd like
to be like my cat
tip-toeing around,
disturbing nothing.
I'd like
to be like my dog
barking at the world,
alerting all to danger.
But in the end
I am both.
I am the cat
sleek and nimble
ready to pounce.
And I am the dog,
fierce but humble,
announcing
"Here I am!
Beware."
Rock Tea
by Gary Gildner
At a hot springs in Sawtooth Mountains
8,000 feet above the level sea,
my two-year-old daughter enters the steamy shallows, and sings
I'm naked! I'm naked! And clings to herself
as if the pink body under her slender arms might slip away.
I do not want her to slip away, not ever,
but I know one day she will. I know
one day she will put on her snow boots
and take up the trail in earnest—and I will call out
I am happy for her, very happy, but sad too,
and hope I will see her again. From the pool's moony wash
she brings me her cupped hands. Rock tea, Papa, you like some?
I cup her hands in my own, and drink. It is delicious, I say,
more delicious than air itself, than life, may I have another?
And perhaps you will have one too? Perhaps, thank you.
In this way, gently over rock tea,
we celebrate how far we have traveled together.
Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend.
Melody Beattie
I'm trekking it to spend three days with the best of friends in the Shenandoah Valley...
See ya' on the flip side....
Though the air is full of singing
my head is loud
with the labor of words.
Though the season is rich
with fruit, my tongue
hungers for the sweet of speech.
Though the beech is golden
I cannot stand beside it
mute, but must say
"It is golden," while the leaves
stir and fall with a sound
that is not a name.
It is in the silence
that my hope is, and my aim.
A song whose lines
I cannot make or sing
sounds men's silence
like a root. Let me say
and not mourn: the world
lives in the death of speech
and sings there.
-Wendell Berry
Some reflections in haiku of this past weekend in the Blue Ridge Mountains...
i walk under the
covered bridge and feel the steps
of those before me
as the gentle breeze
stirs the leaves of this oak it
is stirring my soul
worthy would the wish
be, to sing the song of this
stream rolling on rocks
overgrown by nature,
even more by memories,
this house holds my heart
Val is feeling some serious gratitude...
For my kiddos, my family, my friends, and love... For sunrises, lakes, and red-winged blackbirds. For popsicles, pancakes, and strong black coffee... For life unfolding in mysteriously beautiful ways...
And also... I'm grateful for all the crap along the way -- all the lessons hard-learned and all the hard lessons I've yet to learn -- that have and will continue to show me why I should be grateful for everyone and everything named above.
But wherever the truth may lie, this much is crystal-clear: our bigger-and-better society is now like a hypochondriac, so obsessed with its own economic health as to have lost the capacity to remain healthy.... Nothing could be more salutary at this stage than a little healthy contempt for a plethora of material blessings. Perhaps such a shift of values can be achieved by reappraising things unnatural, tame, and confined in terms of things natural, wild, and free.
Aldo Leopold,
A Sand County Almanac
1948
(bold emphasis mine)
Meggie came and snuggled in bed with me this morning. She grabbed my copy of Tao Te Ching off the nightstand and slowly began flipping through the pages. As I lay there in bed, watching her quietly turn the pages, she told me the following story (word-for-word) :
Mommy, you can take any path through the forest you want to.
You can go through the path or on the path.
There's lots of different paths.
If there's blocks on the paths, you can jump over them. Or you can go around them.
Oooooh... I like the trees, Mommy. Look at the trees. Aren't they beautiful?
We can climb the trees together. They're not too high.
Mommy, all the paths are good. We will go up and down but all the paths are good, Mommy.
We can do it together.
What simple wisdom... offered from a two-and-a-half-year-old...
"I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life."
Henry David Thoreau
Oh yes, Henry, that is what it's all about.
Hi folks!
My trip was was full of beauty and wonder and emotion but I haven't been inspired to write about it yet... I'm still soaking it all in. So, for now, I post this little tidbit in attempt to encourage you to beat your own drum, sing your own song, and dance your own dance.
What might my life be
like were I to give in
to the rhythms of my own
ragged dance?
—Susan Hanson
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