Monday, 30 April 2018

When Spring Goes Unsprung

A few precious days
the sun out
skies clear
spring flowers
on full parade

Within humans
a similar process
of hearts open
brows unfurled


 



And then a shift...
Lambs rush to be born
bluebells move up a gear




And the skies cloud over
the wind picks up
the rains come...

We are back in our cave. What do we do there?
Gentle ourselves in-between the have-tos and the musts...

Hot teas
warm baths
cosy slippers
soft hearts;
Open journals
well-worn books
body stretches
mind massage.
A song
A dance
the rhythm of the rain
Nothing lasts
marvel at the constant change.


Wednesday, 4 October 2017

Being Curious

Ten beautiful months into 2017 and there are so many new traces in my soul. I have not put words to them here, and now the words have flown. In pictures...


















 

 

 

 






Thursday, 22 December 2016

Last Post of the Year...

and what a year it has been! 2016 will live on in my consciousness as a pivotal year when everything changed. With the death of my beautiful mother and all the many months of sorting, clearing, missing and remembering, I find myself at the close of this year with a sense of inner spaciousness and a need to listen to the silence.

In a year where so much has happened on the public stage, where people and events have been "in our faces" it feels even more important to take time to listen within. Events force us to re-evaluate. Life shakes us until we are willing to wake up. What is truly important now? Where do my deepest soul passions lead me? How do I create in my life from this point forward? What and who do I stand with?

Blessings on each one of us as we create forward into the new.

Monday, 10 October 2016

Soulful Autumn



I sit
as companion
to the tree;
feel the wind stir;
wonder as leaves
gently release their grip.

Creatures
dance through the woods
and mingle scent
with mossy earth;
I sit as still as I am able
Never alone.









Wednesday, 20 July 2016

A New Nest

I admire the architecture  -
solid structure
constructed
by beak and claw.
The inside smooth: earth
pressed to a round by
the curve of a bird body
intent on making home.
Outside, a tapestry of
twine, twig, tendril
of grass woven
by clasped hands.
And moss -
sweet moss with
its crumbly texture
and smell of woods.
A new nest
to call home.

Thursday, 2 June 2016

Un-tethered

My first trip abroad since my mother has died. Everything feels different. On arrival, my orientation is no longer an unmixed excitement that pulls my gaze out to the landscape while simultaneously resonating as a sense of home in my soul.

Now, the pull is back towards a different home - back to the cottage; back to the woods and fields of West Sussex; back to the untended grave.

I have no idea how long this feeling will last or where it will  come to rest in my being. Will it occupy a small or large portion of my consciousness? Will it feel peaceful or sad?

It is raining here in the Pacific Northwest - a fine rain that reminds me of home. The colours are muted; the trees soak in moisture in silent gulps; the clouds lower their eyes to the ground.

All relationships need to be re-made.


Thursday, 12 May 2016

Aftermath

My last post was in January. My theme for the year was riding the wave. On February 6th, the waters changed dramatically with the death of my mother. It was unexpected, even at ninety-three; she left easily, quickly, with a grace that I have come to feel characterized her way of being. She left in a way that completely mirrors the departure of the apple tree last October. This is what I wrote at the time:



When I look out of the 
bedroom window 
at my mother's house, 
the apple tree is my measure of the season. 
I wonder if I 
took her for granted, 
if I assumed she would always be there, 
and so failed to continually 
appreciate her many gifts. 
Now she has gentle toppled - away from the house, 
which seems typical of her considerate nature... 


And so she has gone...
I wonder if I took her for granted,
if I assumed she would always be there,
and so failed to continually
appreciate her many gifts. 
I appreciate them now...
every day. 
Thank you.