“There is a moment in every dawn when light floats,
there is the possibility of magic.
Creation holds its breath…”
~Douglas Adams,
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Image of Flatirons by Nancy L
Light Floats
Be Still
Keeping Quiet
by Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.This one time upon the earth,
let’s not speak any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.It would be a delicious moment,
without hurry, without locomotives,
all of us would be together
in a sudden uneasiness.The fishermen in the cold sea
would do no harm to the whales
and the peasant gathering salt
would look at his torn hands.Those who prepare green wars,
wars of gas, wars of fire,
victories without survivors,
would put on clean clothing
and would walk alongside their brothers
in the shade, without doing a thing.What I want shouldn’t be confused
with final inactivity:
life alone is what matters,
I want nothing to do with death.If we weren’t unanimous
about keeping our lives so much in motion,if we could do nothing for once,
perhaps a great silence would
interrupt this sadness,
this never understanding ourselves
and threatening ourselves with death,
perhaps the earth is teaching us
when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive.Now I will count to twelve
and you keep quiet and I’ll go.
Stillness
A huge thunderstorm brews just over the horizon as I take a wonder walk at Wonderland Lake. Thunder rumbles on the ridge, yet the lake is still, perfectly still. Reflections of the foothills play on the surface of the water. The air is charged with magic potential. My mind stills. I remember a passage from one of my favorite books:
The silence is all there is. It is the alpha and the omega.
It is God’s brooding over the face of the waters;
it is the blended note of the ten thousand things, the whine of wings.”
~Annie Dillard, Teaching A Stone To Talk
☯
In the stillness before the storm, this space is alive with joy. Mother Nature shares her wisdom, whenever I remember to pause and listen.
Be Still.
Stillness reveals the secrets of eternity.
~Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
☯
Seek Wildness
“To learn to see, to learn to hear, you must…
Go into the wilderness alone.
For it is not I who teach you the ways of the Gods.
Such things are learned only in solitude.”
~Matsuwa, Huichol Shaman
Unfolding
I would love to live
Like a river flows,
Carried by the surprise
Of its own unfolding.
~John O’Donohue
Soul Bloom
Flow with the Energies of your Soul
Be True to You
Allow Yourself to Bloom
☾ ☽
“There’s no stopping the soul that radiates out and around us,
any more than one can stop the sweet perfume of a rose.
You could, of course, hold your nose.
But the rose will continue to exude its rich fragrance”
~Tom Cowan, Celtic Shaman
Dancing with Dad
My dad passed away a month ago. He had struggled to hang on and stay here long past the point of misery, so his passing was a relief in many ways. But there are still days when I have images of him in my head all day, and I miss him a lot. And other days I don’t think of him at all. Grief is a strange beast.
This morning I remembered a time many years ago when my dad tried to teach me how to jitterbug. Tried is the operative word here – I never could hold my torso still and get my feet to do what his were doing so perfectly. In my defense, I am not known for my coordination. Besides, I had a glass of wine before the dance instruction began!
Dad loved to tell people the tale of how his Navy buddy taught him to jitterbug. I always loved that story; Dad had joined the Navy at 18 and shipped out to California for basic training just as WWII ended. He went from a tiny town in southern Illinois to suddenly being in the Navy on a ship with hundreds of other guys. I imagine that it was all quite a shock for a young geeky country boy. One of his older shipmates took my dad under his wing. He helped my dad settle in to life in the Navy. And he also taught Dad how to jitterbug so he could impress the ladies.
I love the image of my skinny 18 year old Dad with his baby face, dressed in baggy jeans and a work shirt, dancing the jitterbug with some big beefy guy in the tightly cramped quarters of a battleship! LOL Life truly is stranger than fiction. The dance lessons definitely paid off because 40 years later my dad was still an amazing jitterbugger. 🙂
I miss Dad. I wish I had danced with him more. This morning, as I flashed on images of the handful of times that we danced together, I heard Dad’s voice in my ear. He said, “We’ll dance again.” And I suddenly saw an image of two energies dancing and flowing together and then apart, together and then apart. And as the energies danced, they morphed and changed shape, but I could tell that it was still the energy of Dad and I dancing together.
I think that image of my energy dance with Dad is actually a great lesson about the rhythm of life and death. We are energies that come together to dance on Earth, then part in death. Then we will come together again in a new place and dance a new dance. Over and over, we dance together in one form or another.
Later in the morning, I hike up one of my favorite trails, still thinking about my dad and missing him. I stop on a mesa to rest awhile. As I sit under the pines writing, I am startled by a hawk’s cry above me. I look up and see two hawks soaring and spiraling just above my rocky perch. The hawks appear to be dancing together on the wind. It’s a beautiful dance,.
Another memory surfaces as I watch the hawks; I flash on the image of my dad dancing with my mom. In my memory, they are both in their late sixties and have been together for over 40 years. When they danced together, they were so closely in synch that it was like watching a single body move and flow to the music.
The hawks are gone when I next look up from my writing. But a pair of young deer soon stumble upon me. They freeze for a moment. But when they realize that I wont harm them, they relax and forage for food a few feet behind me. Life dances on all around me.
I love you Dad. And I miss you. I miss your wide open country boy smile. I miss your stories. I just plain miss you! But I know in my heart it was time for you to move on. And I am ok – I know that you and I will dance together again soon.