appreciation

The older I get

The older I get I sink in to what’s now. Like a bird settling into a nest of hopeful. Accepting the upsets, the seemingly unfair aspects of my life. For they, too, are just as part of the story. Disowned or welcomed -all pieces visible, named. Nesting in the comfort of the familiar held together because I, like the bird, decided to take the time.

I wasn’t aware back then but I was preparing for my eggs. Prepping for my eventual birth which is now. The birth of Me. Stepping into my own power, the less traumatized version of myself. My presence secure, out of the scathing, scouring elements that shaped me. I

In a nest. A dwelling I’ve created, with the help of some really beautiful spiritual souls. Some winged no doubt. But this nest is a coveted solitary soft landing in a harsh world. A place of rest and birth.

Welcome home I whisper to the bird within. She smiles because she knows what home feels like. She knows the comfort of the familiar. She knows where she belongs. The older she gets.

appreciation

In Love #29

I’m in love with morning mist. Slipping around unnoticed like a forgotten shoe on the side of the highway. The moisty moist, seeping through obstacles on its path. Unexpectedly, life succumbs to the commanding curtain. As we awaken to the new day, there’s a breach in the outer bands of body aura.

The awareness of the wet, the cling, the intimacy of cool arriving suddenly. Silently. Allowing. Every Season with it’s own version.

Winter’s mist freezes. Preserving perfect ice spheres on each blade of grass, every dry remnant of expired flowers, berries. Frist, it’s called, glittering and shimmering giving note to shapes and shadows. Natures’ icy fingers dripping, building new layers. The invisible becoming visible each air droplet pregnant with moisture. Each finding it’s resting place on the earth.

Spring mist brings with it hope and cleanse. Working it’s way into our lungs. Cleaning and clearing the lung cobwebs of Winter stagnation.

Summer’s mist with its mysterious, muted splendor, loudly claims its plot. Arriving at the tree tops and descending heavily upon the vegetation. The greens greener the browns earthier.

Autumn’s mist that hovers low as the tallest wheat stalk, gives an unexpected hug. The breath of the soul cut short. A slow n steady exhale hijacked by a disowned gasp.

The mists of Autumn. Outlining landscapes of past splendor, once showcasing lush bounty. Rich orange, red, gold, pink foliage now encased in humid, hanging, pregnant air. The foggy veil moves erringly hand picking, encasing each dead and crunchy. Breathing life into the lifeless. Fungus rising to the mist, faces turned upward toward the sky awaiting the gift of moist.

I’m in love with morning mist.

Manifest

Oh Rain

rain blessed rose

Rain gifts us an invitation to heal through our senses. Our shoulders, held high with unresolved fears. Drop a little lower. We imagine the raindrops as a shower of peace and tranquility. A watery embrace from another world. Enveloping our physicality.

The smell of rain conjures up feelings of a warm summer day when time seems to stand still. We soak in the suns presence through thirsty skin. Rain tastes like fresh ideas, rich with aliveness and hope, breathing in. Taking in all of life’s’ raingivings, we are brand new.

We may see the rain but do we really SEE the rain? Each drop, intentions pure, life giving gold. Falling with anonymity, for the greater good. The collective wet, gathering en mass. On the sidewalk, in a pond, on our body. Every liquid pearl connecting, melding, with selfless surrender. An invitation offered, to the present party. The Here and Wow.

We hear rain as a familiar tune. “All is well” hymn beckoning us to listen, intoxication inevitable. Steady rhythm, in likeness of Earths heartbeat. Tamping out all the wrong, the intrusive, disturbing buzz of life. We sit. We listen. We open to greatness only rain can stir.

If only…..when it rains.

appreciation

In Love #20

I’m in love with sleepy smiles. Gently spreading east and west. Following a long night’s rest. Transforming the expressionless. An open invitation to hang out deep as shoulders sag. Head tilt welcoming each moment without expectation.

The glistening morning sun sweeping across my tired face, caressing my smile with golden warmth. I lie still basking, breathing, planning. Nothing. Existing fully in my expression. Of pleasantry, of nothingness, in the space between thoughts.

The gentle childlike energy swirling amidst my unassuming grin. Keeping me whole. Wanting me present. Between my lips, gracefully ushering in the newest, sweetest oxygen. To be ushered out in turn, discarded purposefully. Taking with it, everything challenging the grandest of facial postures.

I love sleepy smiles.

Remember

Oh that child

I never lost the child within. She’s right here next to me. Gathering trinkets on walks. Stones that peak interest, pine needles that prickle on my cheek, pods yet opened, full of possibility and promise of another season.

Feathers of hawk, abandoned hornets nests, berries artistically encased in ice – saved in the freezer, crimson leaf pressed in the pages of the Mother Earth catalogue, brown, striped seeds of mystery.

Recuerdos, mementos for recalling yesterdays, telling the earth’s story one tchotchke at a time. Don’t lose the child within. He/she is counting on you.

cycles

October

October is a month of transition. Leaves willingly release the security of the branches that have nurtured them. Fully embracing their journey onto the earth – all in the name of something larger, something magnificent…trees storing up power in the form of nutrients in order to support new, healthy life in the spring.

Our lives follow a similar pattern. You may blossom and grow then allowing a part of yourself to “die off” making room for the new you, to start the process all over again in the Springtime of your days.

Here’s to releasing the dead wood in your life – the creaky, the crotchety, letting it all fall away, into the earth.

October · rain

In Love #17

I’m in love with the smell of October rain. Arriving upon a cool, warm, wet, chilly breeze. Coating crunchy leaves and crispy flowers. Gathering dusty, dried earth for a communal autumn hug. The rain slowly arrives, moving in on the quiet. Settling into its resting place, lukewarm and lovely.

Making up for Summer drought, it falls. And falls. Smelling like forest floor. Like rich brown soil. Like the underpinnings of fabulousness with a side of mushroom spores and pine bedding undertones. Resurfacing the foundation of new life. Possibilities. Rich mineral magnificence.

The fragrance of possibility. Of spent corn stalks, cold harvest moon mist and pumpkin spice. In the air, previews of icy rains and solid precipitation. The falling away of what is no longer needed. That which weighs us down. Rain showering off the unwanteds, the old, the haggard, tired. The dead crunchies in our lives.

Washed into tomorrow on an endless cycle. Each rain flushing our discarded patterns. The old, worn out becoming new again. Replaced, reset, realigned by fresh new growth. Breathing in a little slower today to fill my empty spaces with the smell of rain in October.

breath · resilient

Thursday Morning Wisdom

There’s more than a lot of crazy, unhinged energy out there lately. Never a better time to slow down. Breathe. And remind yourself that you are whole, safe and doing the best you can.
At this moment.
Breath is the ticket.
Free.
Always with you.
Notice it.
Return home with it.
Home to yourself.
When all is swirling.
Let it swirl the shit out of itself.
Watch.
Or don’t watch.
Society spin out of control.
Your choice.
I choose myself.
I choose my breath.

Uncategorized

In Love #15

I’m in love with deep breaths. The boundless kind refilling my sails. Conscious sips of love welcomed into my chest scape. Dismantling an anxious foundation fortified with last weeks sludge. Thought by thought, I see them to the door. Some reluctant, but soon completely evicted from this wisdom pipeline of the soul.

Conscious or unconscious. I breathe. Resetting the tick, time, tock. Slicing up deadlines and have-to’s. Making manageable the most tangled armor. This luscious, quenching air filling the deep crevices between uptight and spacious. Grounding the body right here, right new

The holy rolling of chest. Breath enters and exits on two lane highway traveling South. Drawing in fuel, to our receptive muscles. Once again, saying yes to life. Then the exit North. The release of rib cage tension allowing drainage of all that is not serving us. All that has expired within us. Each cycle bringing us closer to ourselves.

In an endless cycle of fresh. An endless cycle of Peace. An endless cycle of Presence. I’m in love with deep breaths.

Deserving

Oh So Deserving

we are

deserving of all things amazing

bright and shiny

fabulous and joy filled

we are

deserving of the quiet still of the night sky

the woosh of the geese taking flight

skipping across the water

the buzz of the yellow fuzzy bees extracting pollen

the slow stutter of a monarch’s papery, powdered wings

we are

deserving of all that rides barely audible on the slowly released breath of a morning breeze

we are

deserving of the kind gesture of an elderly gentleman, who holds the door, in anticipation of our needs

we are

deserving of the rainbow patches of median wildflowers gone unnoticed, if not for the traffic jam

we are

deserving of the delicious space between our thoughts.

deserving…not because we have to work at it

or say the right thing

or smile, be pretty/handsome

or be smart or thin or fit

or be wealthy, productive 

or be responsible, organized, competitive, convincing or persuasive…

it’s simple.

it’s simply because we exist

no additional efforting required

we are

deserving 

exploration · Human Spirit · resilient

Alive Underneath

Looking for some inspiration today I stumbled upon this Wintery scene. Quiet, frozen and crunchy. Alive underneath but who would know? Who could tell? My desire for inspiration, stirring. Alive, underneath these Winter layers. We sit. Simmering, planning, fantasizing about the greatest of possibilities. Maybe adding some sparkle and intrigue to our lives, our existence. What rubbish can we dispose of? Can we be doing more? What’s really important? What’s fluff in our lives? What do we keep? Feed? What do we watch die off? Freeze? These cold, crunchy layers of Winter-ness masking, the ME, the YOU, the US. But yet the seduction of mid-Winter hibernation, stagnation, complacency is victorious. For ME? I’m still spying for some inspiration, the ME I aspire to be. Underneath it all.

acceptance · anyways · awareness · body · healing · human condition · Human Spirit · trauma

Today, I Choose To Bloom

“She was raised to be hard on herself.

So she spent her years growing gentle.

Her whole life bloomed. ~Jaiya John

Wow, this quote is just perfect. Today I’m trying to be gentle with myself. My legs hurt, neck burning down the left side. I’m gunna not get pissed that my body doesn’t function perfectly. I’m gunna recognize the monstrosity trauma trying to ooze out today. All at once. I don’t really have time to process through what my Spirit is sending me today. Appointments – dentist, mammogram, hair… I can ground and breathe and center myself whatever I’m doing, where ever I find myself today.

The real work will be loving myself though the purging of stuck trauma energy. Knowing that I can be gentle and patient with myself and seeing my body as an alliance rather than the punisher. The pain just being information which my Higher Self has decided its time to take a look at. I have a choice. I can forge ahead and ignore what’s going on or I can yield and show my body that I am her friend. It takes courage to yield.

I won’t be hard on myself. For I am not a problem- I never was. Bringing gentle in and on and around my sore body will bring me peace and comfort in a world which does not value this. In a society that puts high esteem on doing rather than being. I’ll do it anyway. Today I choose to bloom. This or better.

abuse · anyways · awareness · Change · connection · gratitude · healing · healthy · human condition · Human Spirit · inner work · light in the darkness · listen · Moving On · old patterns · persevere · presence · Reveal · Thrive · trauma · trust

Shhhhhh

“It’s unbelievable how many ppl carry this around with them and then all of the sudden come out with – I was sexually abused as a kid. They go their whole life, carrying it around and never say anything”. Continue reading “Shhhhhh”