turning towards simplicity

While the calendar says otherwise, today marks the end of our summer. 

the thermometer also indicates summer still has us - and this poor bunny! - in her fiery grasp!

Today Cowgirl had a half day orientation at her new Middle School. Tomorrow is the official First Day.

Middle School.  Yes, I am clutching my heart as I type those words.  I am also trying my very best to remember that my middle school experience (level one of Dante's Inferno) has no bearing upon what her experience will be. 

Still. Cataclysmic changes here.  To mark the end of our summer break, the three of us went to see the movie Pete's Dragon.  It is an incredibly sweet, lovely movie.  It was especially wonderful as we were the only three people in the theater.  A private screening if you will for my dragon daughter. It is a gem of a movie in the vein of simple, uncluttered story telling with characters you immediately like.  It was so good the Girl overcame her initial resistance to a furry dragon with a dog-like nose.("Dragons have scales, not fur!")   Overwhelmed by all the nostalgia - end of summer, dragons, little boy happily living wild in the woods - I cried several times. I thought I was sneaky about it, but at the end of the movie my girl outed me. "I heard you crying mom."

Yes, a computer generated dragon brought me to tears. Or rather, it was the moment when Pete, the little boy, separated from his dragon woefully cries "I want to go home!" and then howls like a wolf lonely for his pack.  The emotion of that moment brings me to tears right now. Because the pain of such immense longing touches a tender space of longing within me.

I want to go home. Who hasn't longed to return to the place and time when life felt simpler? When love was clear and connection unquestioned?  I watched my newly minted preteen staggering under the weight of a backpack loaded with school supplies making her way towards a middle school that I swear looked ready to swallow her up. In that moment I wanted nothing more than to whisk her back to age 2 ... to the summer cottage where I bathed her every morning in the kitchen sink (there was only an outdoor shower.) 

I want to go back to the time when my mother bathed me in the kitchen sink of a different summer cottage. 

Of course nostalgia and memories tidy away the confusion and chaos.  But such simplicity can be a practice and every day I have a choice to turn towards it.  Pete's dragon  can make himself invisible. He chooses to reveal himself to those whose hearts allow them to see the dragon for who he really is: not a dangerous monster but a loving, playful and loyal friend. 

The world feels crazy right now ... it seems like the way forward requires making choices that require sacrificing our dreams or ideals.  In the movie (spoiler alert!) we imagine Pete faces a  similar fate. He cannot stay with his dragon in the woods and so it seems he will have to  leave that world behind. Except ... he doesn't. He can have both worlds: the human family he misses and the relationship with his dragon - his best friend - Elliot. 

I am determined to create that life for myself and for my family; I am determine to see how I can stay in the simplicity of summer the whole year round. Feeding our dreams every day and every day living in the space of dreams manifesting: that is something I choose to embrace, I choose to feed.  Reconnecting each day with what truly matters and letting go of the internal clutter that confuses or distracts me is part of my practice.  And through practice - whether it be meditation, chanting, painting, running, patio daydreaming - I strengthen the connection between heart, intuition and imagination. 

In our family, we see dragons. I am determined to keep it that way. 

my quiet space

Yesterday, this is how my day began:

A sudden blur of movement across my patio alerted me to his presence. This is the first summer we've hung a hummingbird feeder up.  I had never thought of hummingbirds and Nebraska ... it seems too extreme, too hot, humid, windy, too corn-filled for such seemingly delicate beings.  Of course, the hummingbird is actually a very hardy thing and this ruby-throated fellow will make a 500 mile flight across the Gulf of Mexico to return to his breeding grounds.  My backyard feeder is a fueling up station - an all-you-can-eat nectar buffet bar -  for the hummingbird couple that kept me company throughout the day.

That was yesterday.  Today is a new day.  A very different day.  

A clap of thunder woke the entire family up.  Just as Cowgirl was ready for school, the skies split open with heavy, plopping, splattering rain drops.  It's been raining all morning now.

I am inside with the lights on. Their yellow glow combined with the cannon-blasts of thunder and percussion of falling rain have me in a strange mood.  The house is empty and my day ahead uncertain.  Oh, there are things to do and things I want to do but here I sit at odds with myself.

I feel like I am playing hooky.  While others are at their work, I am busy with ... what?  

At recent potluck held by the Husband's colleagues I was asked "Now that you've retired, does that mean you are lady of leisure?" I'm not sure quitting my University staff job is the same thing as retiring ... I suppose the mug I was given (yes, indeed ... 12 years of service and I got a mug) and the going away luncheon (left-overs from a previous gathering ... style points for sure!) suggested a moving on which is how I myself viewed that career decision.  I don't help my cause by keeping silent, but I was unprepared for this assessment of my situation.

Lady of leisure?  Retiree?

Here is the dilemma: I work harder now than I ever did as someone's employee.  I work harder and reap more satisfaction and fulfillment from my efforts; I feel more engaged, more vital, and connected to what matters to me.  That others don't see or immediately grasp this is ultimately inconsequential but frustrating none-the-less. 

Every day, I feel like I am reinventing myself.  Or rather, reinventing what work looks like and means in my life.  No one else can rubber-stamp my efforts and I alone set the terms and evaluate the outcome.  It is both thrilling and incredibly lonely.

I have to guard my time, watch out for my inner saboteur who dangles distractions and negative self talk in front of me, scaring me temporarily off my path.  Ultimately, my irritation over being pigeonholed as either retiree or worker bee has more to do with my own confusion. The internal chatter tells me I'm either productively engaged or loafing.  I have to return to the reason why I opted to set off on this unmarked trail; to remember I believe the fullness of my life is to be found in this space. Home. Family. Personal work. Creative Expression. Spiritual practice.  Less hustle and more presence. Surrender. Trust. Curiosity. Faith.

I'm into my second cup of coffee ... it's going to be that kind of a day. I am alone because the one I need to converse with, to really get to know, understand and accept is ... yes, myself.

But I do seek out lights of support and encouragement.  Friendly voices like this one and clear-eyed voices sharing deep truths and simple (yet powerful) advice.

You have to take a step. You are not going to mentally or emotionally move toward something until you’ve literally moved. (Karen Maezen Miller)

The rain softened for awhile.  Now it is a steady soaking. It is early afternoon and the dog hasn't been out once.  That would bother me, but it doesn't seem to rattle him.
 

The dark skies have settled into a uniform pale gray.  Even on this gloomy day, the hummingbird returns.  There is nectar waiting after all ... 

I am not alone. I am never alone.  The world waits for me to join in ... Life is arms always open to receive me.  I just have to move into them.

And today ... and elephant wants carving.  Music awaits my ear.  A sleeping dog rests at the edges of my attention, but always by my feet. 

Fumbling my way through ...

It is unbearably hot and strong, furnace-like winds have melted away any ambitions beyond reaching for a popsicle and making our way to the swimming pool after Cowgirl gets home from school.

My drying rack is handling heavy duty laundry as the Husband just returned from a 5 week adventure away from home to make an independent film.  Didn't you hear me bitchin' about all the yard work, double-shift parenting and dog walking duties?  I think I was too exhausted to complain. It's good to have him home ... although I may need a second drying rack ... laundry hanging being a wonderful opportunity to shift through some more brain lint ...

I just heard what sounded like banjo music coming from our bachelor neighbor's backyard.  For a brief moment I thought "He must be learning to play!"  I don't know why such an idea sent a frisson of excitement through me ... perhaps it is my own ukulele ambitions and the notion of neighborly support or a local folk band forming.

I play a mean "You Are My Sunshine" and "Puff the Magic Dragon" ...

Yes, well.

What struck me today was the fact that my work - MY WORK - as such appears to have settled into writing.  Which I find fascinating and amusing in an ironic sort of way because any writing assignment for college or grad school had me parked close by the toilet; the anxiety impacting my digestive system along with my nervous system (I had a little bout of Trichotillomania - the irresistible urge to pull one's hair out - while writing my master's thesis; a river stone in the palm of my hand became my self-soothing device.)  Although I found writing term papers draining, I was always exhilarated by the end result of gathering up the muddle that is my mind and formulating some sort of coherent perspective.  I was often surprised to realize "I know all that?"  

I think that is what the poet David Whyte means when he talks about the creative process as coming to the edge of our understanding about oneself and the world, and taking the courageous step into uncharted territory.   He talks about the call to commit to  the necessary, central conversation which involves voluntarily stepping into the space of our unknown, dropping the armor of identity and risking the discovery that who we are is not what we know - not a static being - but one that is constantly evolving, growing, shedding, dissolving and re-forming as we engage in the conversation of living.
This is what brings me back to writing - and at other times in my cycle, painting or photography or art journaling.  As taxing as this process is - wandering through my thoughts and words and fragments of ideas - each time I willingly take this journey, I find myself inhabiting new ground.  The process of shifting through ideas, feelings and beliefs and seeing where the internal meanderings leads me is exciting beyond description.  It is akin to a rollercoaster ride that lifts me up, drops me down and when I am least ready for it, spins me upside down.  Maybe that is my way - needing to be shaken up to allow what has been buried or hidden to rise to the surface.  

For as much as I seem to like using lots of words, writer is not how I identify myself. (Just as someone who eats a lot of cookies isn't a baker.)  Creative Explorer or Adventurer may be more accurate; perhaps I need to watch Bear Grylls for some vital tips and inspiration?

(I am riding waves of excitement as I shift through material for my upcoming offering The Gift of Practice.  I hate self promotion, but  each day I sit down to wrestle with the material and my experiences, I finish feeling more enthusiastic and committed to the practice of showing up for my life and my creative self. I have been busying recording interviews with some of my favorite people and am steeping myself in the richness of those conversations.  While my bank account may not be flush, I am feeling very full and rich with such inspiration fueling me onwards. If you feel curious or called to commit to yourself in a vital way, I hope you will consider joining the virtual gathering.  Further information and details can be found here.) 

water goes around the rock ...

That is one of my core mantras, along with "baby steps" (is it just me, or have you noticed as you've aged Bill Murray becomes increasingly relevant and indeed heroic?)






This is not where I planned to wander today ... but I am baby stepping my way through things over here and I am claiming points for showing up.  Yes, I operate upon an imaginary point system (thank you Karen!) where certain tasks - say, making the bed or tidying up the counter clutter (clutter, I've discovered is naturally self propagating) earn me ten points.  Putting laundry away (I may be one of those rarest of rare beings that has heaps of clean, air-dried, laundry sitting about - I do so love my drying rack ...) folded is 15 points and pulling out a new, clean t-shirt for the day (rather than the one I tossed off the night before) is also point-worthy.  I don't record my points mind you ... it's just the game I play in my head.

ahem ... yes ... the voices inside my head ... so staying with the brain lint theme here, I have come to confess that I am a bit fatigued - okay, completely done in! - by the sound of my own voice droning on and on and on inside my head.  I am hoping others of you partaking in your own homesteading adventures can reassure me that you know of what I speak.  Otherwise, well ... I don't know what otherwise I have available to me?

So, baby steps and water goes around the rock ... you see, today is one of those days where my flow - if you could call it such - ran smack into a unexpected and inopportune boulder.  Nothing too massive that I cannot shift around it and indeed, there is no other option (a tantrum not option so much as a delaying tactic.) So as I take the curve around the obstacles in my day, I find myself thinking about the rocks that water goes around.  And I am thinking those rocks are really the opportunities where I am force to shift perspective, change direction, and open myself up to the reality that life is not about me reaffirming who I think I am, so much as me rediscovering moment by moment who I am and who I am becoming.

Okay ... did that just hurt your brain too?  Blame this this talk by the poet David Whyte which has the white mouse in my brain spinning wildly upon his little wheel: Being at the Frontier of Your Identity.  I've listened to this talk 3 or 4 times now and only a fraction of its immensity has penetrated the dense outer crust of my mind.  

A form of enlightenment may be to understand that you'll never feel quite at home in the world. And you're not meant to.  (from What to Remember When Waking)

My mind is reeling.

And then there is this nugget: 
 

...one of the difficulties of parenting is that you are constantly attempting to relate to someone who is not there anymore ...  they are growing so quickly  ... and you also have this internal heartbreak that they are growing away from you and they are no longer the person who needed you in every facet of their life ... and so there are tremendous dynamics that are attempting to stop the child from growing. 

I am sucking the marrow from that bone ...

So today I am attempting to staying present for the me that I meet as life forces me to flow unexpected ways.  There is the me I've crafted piece by piece through the stories and events in my life; and there is the me I meet when I let go of the labels I've plastered upon myself - impatient, emotional, sensitive, odd ball - and open to the reality that I am always unfolding, learning, growing, being and becoming.  What surprises me is how much trust I feel about that process ... and about that person.

I wonder who we will be tomorrow?  

okay, so the paintings make an appearance because 1) in reviewing old old blog posts, I was struck by all the color in my life and I feel a strong pull right now to paint and bring color back in; and 2) the characters that appear in my work represent the many voices that are attempting to penetrate this thick skull,  so perhaps I ought to give them their space to speak?

stasis

It's that time of year when the seasons seem stalled ... Winter hanging on while Spring only hints at her arrival ...

 

A time of season when I too feel suspended ... yearning for warmer days and all that is implied by Spring's activities, and yet ...

 

Feeling resistant to moving, taking action ... all to readily settling  back into the couch cushions, deep sighs, picking up embroidery needle and through slow, repetition motions creating my own sense of time ...

 

Slow, slow, slow ...

 
 inertia threatening ...

Winter's cold still grips my world.  Scurrying back from the mail box, shifting through the day's post, worrying over an unfamiliar hand inking my name on an otherwise plain envelope (no return address, no postmark - who is this?!) ... at the edges of my awareness the call of geese in flight ... instinct or intuition compelling me to pull out of myself and look up ... and I stop, in front of the neighbor's house and stare ... a countless number of geese, bird after bird, v upon v, looped like black embroidered lines across the expanse of sky ... another voice breaks the reverie go get the girl!  and I take off running for the house, shouting out as I come in hurry hurry! and I scoop her up (because it is cold and she is shoeless) and bundle her in my arm and outside ... look up! and we both stare upwards at this miracle of geese, breathless with wonder, the only words appropriate to the moment: wow ... wow ... wow ...

no photo, because i made that choice not to rupture that perfect moment of beingness ...

So I feel the call, feel the pull and yet I know it is not time yet for me to begin.  What? I'm not sure.  A recurring dream from the past 6 months or longer has me in the middle of a move, my husband having made the decision and arrangements to sell our house, pick up, and travel elsewhere.  Always, I am frantic ... upset to realize I agreed to this shift, confused as to how our current home could be so easily toss aside for this unknown future place.  

I have been puzzled by these dreams.  The fact that they are reoccurring tells me they hold significant clues or insights but I have not decoded them.  I think they have something to do with my struggle between restlessness and nesting; my desire to create something with my life, but not at the cost of abandoning that which brings me comfort, security, a sense of place and rest.  The masculine do/make/achieve part of my persona trying to override my inner feminine voice who counsels be/allow/experience.  There is the part of me that relishes the planning, building, creating but there is an equal part that requires play, spontaneity, unfolding and presence.  I think this is what my dreams suggest: not so much being resistant to growth or movement or change, but  a balancing of those energies with home and simple being. 

So here I am, savoring this in-between time, this frozen moment of transition, when the impulse to move tips the scales from being into becoming.  Knowing that soon becoming will ease back into being.  Or perhaps the trick is to hold both at once?  I believe that may be true grace in living.  I'll let you know.

overflow ... overwhelm ...

 

Yesterday I found myself opening up Facebook, seeing a huge number of notifications up by that little globe icon (notice how they use the color red which sends me the message urgent! attend to now!), clicking to see what had seemingly caused the world to implode while I was slumbering. As I scanned the list of activity my head nearly imploded.

I had to close the laptop and walk away.

I couldn't figure out what was rattling me so ... I mean, there are many private groups I participate in with wonderful people, fascinating material, great ideas and support ... it wasn't the usual run-of-the-mill facebook fodder ... photos of people's Sunday brunch orgy or gripe of the moment (yup, I'm prone to posting my vent-du-jour) ... there were quite a few things I wanted to catch up on and yet that moment felt like the zen story of a professor visiting a master to ask about the teachings. As the master poured tea the professor kept talking and talking and  the zen master kept pouring the tea, letting it spill over the cup and into the saucer.  When the professor commented upon it, the master replied "You say you want to learn but you are like this cup: so full nothing else can go in."

Of course I am both the cup and the teapot pouring pouring pouring ...

I actually felt like there were all these voices shouting at me, vying for my attention and I could not hear my own self in that moment.  

I think it must be the season. This is a time of inward being, hibernation, sitting in quiet and abiding in the wisdom of that which has been as I rest and ready myself that which waits to bud and grow.  I know I have been sleeping much more - 9 1/2 hours when I don't have to set the alarm.  Being with my family and falling into the meditative rhythm of knitting. 

 

Making more snowflakes and suncatchers (for what little sunlight we have) and watching the birds come to the feeders.

 

 

 So excuse me if I appear a little recluse-ish these days.  I've felt raw and tender.  I cried pretty much the entire time I was at work today (a whole different story of overwhelm and frustration.)  I am peeking out, catching your words, images and stories but not able to hold much.  Allowing myself time to empty. Perhaps that is the reason for so many tears? Washing myself clean.  Clearing my cobwebs and internal space so that when I am ready, I can fill again.

I am seeking the quiet wisdom that surrounds me in my home.  Little faces and friends keeping my hands and heart busy.  Oh, yes ... right ... I am building right now ... a virtual nest for myself and for anyone who wants to join me (two week away!  my heart swells and new tears form, but of a very different nature!) 

 

Do you feel the same pull this season?  How does the rhythm of Winter manifest in your life?  I am curious as I peer out from my cave. 

through the dark days

I love the Sunday morning when we wake up and realize we have an "extra" hour in the day.  I love that for the time being, there is some sunshine peeking out when I walk Moose in the morning.  My energy and enthusiasm swell with the rising sun ... but then evening will descend at 5:11 today and the dark nights are only going to get longer and longer in the coming months.

 

Yesterday I felt the strong, insistent pull of the dark.  It was a grey, cold, drizzly day which only added to my heavy mood. I found myself roaming around the house like an unsettled ghost; I could not transform my restless energy into action.  Truth be told, in the hustle to develop my self care e-course, I've neglected some essential pieces of myself. Even though I knowingly made this bargain - some of my time shifted into building time - I now am on the other side of it and ready to shift gears back to a happy idling mode.  Except, shifting feels rather clunky right now.

In my restless scurrying, I knew the things I could to do to ease me over this hump: grab paper, a pen, some paints and make a mark.  Any mark.  Begin now.  Scribble and see where it takes me.  

 

I felt clumsy and awkward.  My creative mind feels flabby.  Ideas which normally pour out too fast for me to capture, now seemed lost in the dust.  But I also know and had to trust in this process: that to begin where I am is the first step to taking me somewhere else.  And anywhere would be a change from the dark, dreary and depressing day that threatened to swallow me whole. 

I made a couple of drawings while Cowgirl worked on some dragons.  Her capacity to create new dragons never fails to inspire and astonish me.  If you love it, then just do it. Over and over and over.  As long as it engages you, it is vital and alive.

 

I felt a little better.  Still rusty, still emotionally wobbly.  But I knew what my next step should be.  I connected with the circle of women who have been my SouLodge tribe for over a year now.  I shared with them that I was struggling, I let them witness me as I was in that moment and I let them hold the space for me to be without apologizing or diminishing the discomfort of my experience.  I didn't need to read their responses, I just needed to voice my truth.  I then closed the laptop and tended to dinner.

Today the sun is out.  Today my energy has shifted as I knew (but cannot always believe) it would do.  I am grateful for the self care practices I have been sharing and I am grateful for the knowledge of what I need to offer myself on a daily basis: art, friendship, community, space and acceptance of all that moves through me, but does not define or limit me.

 

Staying in flow means moving through the dark and the light.  Welcoming it all as it puts in me touch with the one constant in life: Love.

very over due ...

It has been two weeks since Cowgirl's birthday, and what every mother will understand (and most fathers fail to appreciate) is that while the work of the celebration is over (or in our case, celebrations as there were private moments, family gatherings and a party with ten kids - which nearly did me in by-the-way) the job is not done.

There remains the thank-you notes. 

 

I actually enjoy this process when I let myself off the hook for it being done in any timely manner.  I have always sent thank you's (although typing that makes me cringe as I wonder if I have forgotten someone in the past?) because truly, I am grateful for each and every thought, gift, or kindness that has been sent my way.  And I know the joy of giving is in witnessing the recipient's pleasure in being remembered and celebrated.

We are in the thick of thank you letters.  The initial wave has been individual drawing made with notes inside - these go to family and close friends; the next batch are cards decorated with a stamp I made out of a drawing Cowgirl made for the occasion.  I love its rather Medieval style dragon!

As Cowgirl has worked her way through the thank you's, I am realizing I too want to partake in this ritual of giving thanks.  

I want to extend my gratitude to each and every one of you who visit me here on Dandelion Seeds and Dreams.  The feeling I have is that you have stopped by for a chat, a quick cup of coffee, or just to check in with me and I appreciate your care and concern. Your comments feel like a refreshing breeze after an arduous trek and an encouraging smile amid the busyness of the day.  Even when you don't comment, I feel the imprint of your care lingering long after you have moved on to other places and spaces that fill your day.

It is odd to feel so connected with so many that I have never met in the flesh.  But the reality is we are connected through words, thoughts, and the sentiments of our hearts. And while you don't know all the deep corners of my heart and mind, you do know the pieces that I value and treasure above all else.  You know my loves, my dreams, and my aspirations. I am grateful for the times when you share those pieces of yourself with me. We are a band of merry joy warriors attending to our world. My heart swells to think of it.

Most of all, I want to acknowledge how you see me even when I try to hide in shadow.  By being so witnessed in this safe space of my own creating, I have learned how to gradually step out into the light and claim more of myself.  I hope that by doing so, I invite everyone here to stand firmly in their own light and heart radiance.

So for all that, and so much more, I say

Of course, Cowgirl says it best ... and with fiery dragons! 

I hope you will join me in November for my first ecourse, InnerGlow Self Care home retreat.   I am having so much fun putting the materials together, gathering up all of my most favorite practices and tips.  I can't wait to shower you will lots of nurturing care!

fear tripping on itself ...

I am scared I'll make the wrong move ...
I am scared I won't move ...
I am scared that taking a chance will result in disaster ...
I am scared that playing it safe will mean missing out on opportunities to love, shine, and grow ...

I am scared my time has passed ...
I am scared to believe so much of myself ...
I am scared to believe so little in myself ...

I am scared to imagine coming to the end of my life and finding I failed to fully inhabit my life.  I am scared to think I might miss out on witnessing all the wonder of Cowgirl's childhood.  I am scared, and I am sick and tired of feeling scared.

I am tired of fear and how it holds me back from unfolding my wings and taking up full space in the sky.  I am tired of letting myself down by yielding so often to fear and uncertainty.  I am tired of questioning my right to creating the life I want to inhabit.

I am scared and tired, but I am also ready.  Standing on the edge, ready to leap.  I am casting my vote for LIFE and JOY, daring to say and live my dangerous thoughts.  One of which is that I have something of value to offer and share.  I have gifts and I am ready to share them.  I am ready to shine because, well, why the hell not?

I am extending a personal invitation to you to join me in a gathering I am hosting here.  

InnerGlow Self Care 
A 4 week online home retreat 
October 29 - December 1, 2012

I am pretty thrilled to be dreaming out loud. 

 

 


I would love to circle with you.  Imagine the intensity of our light joined together? The glow of love, possibility and inner fulfillment spreading out into our world?  I say we dare!

sacred journey

 It is a trip we take with some preparation.  Snacks, water bottles, extra clothing for cooler night temperatures, camera and maybe a favorite musical instrument are gathered and toted to the car.  Fuel tank filled for the drive and ample time to make the journey without rushing through the landscape.

 

We drive around the edges of town

 

Past farms and fields

Over the river

 

Our destination tucked away within the unusual landscape feature known as the Loess Hills.  

 

 Rising 200 feet above flat fields and plains in craggy cliffs, a rich soil comprised of quartz, feldspar, mica and other minerals ground into glacial flour and  carried to the region by winds (eolian) rather than ice age rivers or lakes.  These hills unique in all the world for the depth and intricacy of their features except for a region in Shaanxi province, China although those features have been altered by human habitation.

 

We wind our way through these hills to come to a temple.  A dear friend and a source of inspiration for her ability to manifest dreams and heart energy into walls, shingles, ceramic sculptures, bronze bells created this temple in honor of her guru and mine, Swami Kripalu.  

 


A temple built with love and dedicated to the power of love.

This journey we made in honor of another love as magical and expansive - defying space and time.  Returning to the site of our conception ... 8 years later ... a full moon, the same Harvest Moon that is know as the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival in China.  It is said the moon shines brightest on this night and under her light we are united with all of our loved ones.  Bathed by the light of this moon I prayed for a healthy child.  Bathed in the same moon light, but on the other side of the planet, my girl was just 2 days old.  Yet here we are ...

 


now and forever. always.

 


We came to sing, to celebrate, to remember divine mother's love and to be nourished by the crickets' song, the flight of hawk, swagger of turkey and the dance of deer.  When I think I cannot possibly love my girl anymore than I already do, I look over and see her playing the bongos, eyes closed, head tipped back, singing Om Namah Shivaya and my heart cracks freshly open. She expands my capacity for love and I watch her shadow run across the dark fields, my cellphone held outstretched in her hand to shine a path, her hair flowing back and blending into the dark blanket of night and stars and moonlight.

 This is our sacred journey ... to remember and celebrate our love and the gifts of this beautiful life.  And we bow down to it again and again.  Om Namah Shivaya.