tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73267707121214813682024-03-12T16:18:19.745-07:00Song of the SyrinxAdoration and Pursuit of the SacredDhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326770712121481368.post-18899777250698748472009-02-04T09:46:00.001-08:002009-02-04T10:05:05.913-08:00The brave<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://us.outdoor-photos.com/photo/2713550.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 424px; height: 285px;" src="http://us.outdoor-photos.com/photo/2713550.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>There they are- she stops in the gravel road to look down at the plants showing brave first leaves through the frosty ground. She thinks perhaps she should trust them and believe that Spring is not far away- believe that it is safe to put out leaves and try again. But, she remembers those years when the weather was cruel and froze those first brave leaves and infant flower buds. Even as a child, she had looked at the lilac buds encased in glassy ice and felt a deep sadness- a soul sadness. It was like a promise broken- a friend who laughs at you behind your back- the sweet smell of lilac would not fill the breeze that year.<br /><br />She wonders, is it worth it? Why do they start so soon? Why do we try again for love and friendship when our hearts have been broken?<br /><br />The birds are brave this morning too, singing and flitting about the hedges. She thinks of another plant and wonders- are they up yet? As she walks closer, she can only see the dead stalks. Standing right beside the brown stalks she can not see them. But, as she gets down upon her knees, there almost as dark as the dark earth, are the first shoots of the nettles. Deep, deep green- almost black-fuzzy but not yet stinging. Nettles. She touches one fondly with her finger tip. The nettles mean something deep and old to her. First, she loves them because they were here- they and the Salmon Berries came by themselves and set up house in a corner of the garden (the unlikely partners growing tall mixed together and supporting each other). Second, because their deep greenness holds so much (imagine if your pantry was not continuously replenished by the store- imagine how good those fresh greens would look and taste after the winter). Third, because they remind her that not all things that sting should be avoided. She rises and feels strong. It's all worth it.Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326770712121481368.post-13519899317685898822009-01-26T09:33:00.000-08:002009-01-31T13:21:32.814-08:00Imbolc beckons...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrKiPhY5FCctQ2_bZ-paK7kemxFaoWhvuZfJzim3ZenfOWA_uJuako3QgsmaPMmjK2KRUmfWOd7PEXXUA4AlD7M4r5ZbkYTdSDoNcK-QL_6OhyphenhyphenJ1HaNs4UBUHmEeTLtbAA0hfsUse6mio/s1600-h/italiancows.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrKiPhY5FCctQ2_bZ-paK7kemxFaoWhvuZfJzim3ZenfOWA_uJuako3QgsmaPMmjK2KRUmfWOd7PEXXUA4AlD7M4r5ZbkYTdSDoNcK-QL_6OhyphenhyphenJ1HaNs4UBUHmEeTLtbAA0hfsUse6mio/s320/italiancows.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295657458310703282" border="0" /></a>Bride is said to tend the triple fires of smithcraft (physical fire), healing (the fire of life within), and poetry (the fire of the spirit). Daughter, honor these fires of yours! A fire must be tended!<br /><br />The physical fire is tended by moving your body. Have you felt the surge of heat after you really move your body? Run, walk,swim, ride a bike. Use it, feel it, understand it. This fire can be honored by feeding your body wholesome foods- moderation for the rest.<br /><br />The fire of life within is for you and for others- it offers love and healing. This fire is stronger than you imagine within you. Try- put forth this warmth to your family, to the random stranger who could use a smile. You might find that when you share this warmth, the fire is fed.<br /><br />The fire of spirit is a fickle, needy fire. You must lovingly tend it, try to understand it, look deep into it's flames to find answers. Sing, play music, write, copy a poem into a journal or read it aloud- find yourself in the frost decorating a leaf. You must find a moment of quiet- you must move just a step beyond yourself and daily chores of your life. You can do it. The return of this flame is worth it- it will speak to you of eternity.Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326770712121481368.post-61872408437013525802009-01-13T11:58:00.000-08:002009-01-13T12:06:59.484-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLPTqBdpGEAj6G2rEc5Zg0GH5p_wu8ddHn9GLRAQtRHawji8MbJ8yWc_SxQfXNDGZjw5IJmdtl1j8UBQXfjlHonmNfmVjvrUlKFfTXLSzZnUfIdpIryNOkQgNgDEd_DlGEP6zNDXmpedE/s1600-h/redcat.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLPTqBdpGEAj6G2rEc5Zg0GH5p_wu8ddHn9GLRAQtRHawji8MbJ8yWc_SxQfXNDGZjw5IJmdtl1j8UBQXfjlHonmNfmVjvrUlKFfTXLSzZnUfIdpIryNOkQgNgDEd_DlGEP6zNDXmpedE/s320/redcat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290870501281722690" border="0" /></a>Quotes to live by from Rainer Maria Rilke:<br /><br /><span class="body">All emotions are pure which gather you and lift you up; that emotion is impure which seizes only one side of your being and so distorts you.</span><br /><br /><span class="body">Believe that with your feelings and your work you are taking part in the greatest; the more strongly you cultivate this belief, the more will reality and the world go forth from it.</span><br /><span class="body">Live your questions now, and perhaps even without knowing it, you will live along some distant day into your answers.</span>Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326770712121481368.post-4541328439107485842009-01-08T17:37:00.000-08:002009-01-08T17:39:43.269-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztdDQamM65ybfzv1n-r7WetLYTAwcVg2mKEW-Z1olqPgCosUi7mPeYyzU99jhWShZMjNxGrsRlUZHxhDlZxNAuT2cRSUyu7Tkhprm48DY4JH2X_lQ7VSDfYF8HQVhLWmnAjUJjpLWjIw/s1600-h/wintersolstice.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztdDQamM65ybfzv1n-r7WetLYTAwcVg2mKEW-Z1olqPgCosUi7mPeYyzU99jhWShZMjNxGrsRlUZHxhDlZxNAuT2cRSUyu7Tkhprm48DY4JH2X_lQ7VSDfYF8HQVhLWmnAjUJjpLWjIw/s320/wintersolstice.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289102490953419282" border="0" /></a><br /><pre><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />A Winter Eden</span> by Robert Frost<br /><br />A winter garden in an alder swamp,<br />Where conies now come out to sun and romp,<br />As near a paradise as it can be<br />And not melt snow or start a dormant tree.<br /><br />It lifts existence on a plane of snow<br />One level higher than the earth below,<br />One level nearer heaven overhead,<br />And last year's berries shining scarlet red.<br /><br />It lifts a gaunt luxuriating beast<br />Where he can stretch and hold his highest feat<br />On some wild apple tree's young tender bark,<br />What well may prove the year's high girdle mark.<br /><br />So near to paradise all pairing ends:<br />Here loveless birds now flock as winter friends,<br />Content with bud-inspecting. They presume<br />To say which buds are leaf and which are bloom.<br /><br />A feather-hammer gives a double knock.<br />This Eden day is done at two o'clock.<br />An hour of winter day might seem too short<br />To make it worth life's while to wake and sport.</pre>Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326770712121481368.post-23693642121642331862008-12-19T16:38:00.000-08:002008-12-19T16:56:44.300-08:00A Winter Solstice Meditation(**If you enjoy music during meditation, I recommend you press the "Launch Pandora" button on the right. I have been enjoying a station I created by entering the term "Anonymous Four", but you may listen to what calls to you.**)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrRad3JOwZucX0xrn9zrR8Jg3qGaybP6FAeARG9G8l2eY_f-KpwA89OWXSrU8s6kg3C45lAOGnLuZt3EL9Kwms-KIoqlilQlEv4TS6_XnZnp2acIv8r_uQV08yO-Q7frnqhIjdpsELK0/s1600-h/mountainsunrise.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNrRad3JOwZucX0xrn9zrR8Jg3qGaybP6FAeARG9G8l2eY_f-KpwA89OWXSrU8s6kg3C45lAOGnLuZt3EL9Kwms-KIoqlilQlEv4TS6_XnZnp2acIv8r_uQV08yO-Q7frnqhIjdpsELK0/s320/mountainsunrise.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281667213915259522" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><br /><u><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"></span></u></p><p class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family:Papyrus;">A Winter Solstice Meditation<o:p></o:p></span></u></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><u><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;">This is a time for you. Find a comfortable, warm place to get settled. Take a long breath<span style=""> </span>starting in your nose and drawing your breath deep, filling your stomach. Breath out slowly, releasing your breath from your stomach than your chest , throat and finally out of your mouth. Do this several times until you feel your muscles relax.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;">Sense your body- recognize that you are safe and comfortable. You are tethered to the Earth by a golden rope extending from the base of your spine to the heart of the Earth. Feel the golden, warm connection. This golden rope does not hinder you in any way. This golden rope keeps you connected and safe.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;">Once you are relaxed and connected, we will begin our travels. We go a long way to a mountain covered with snow. The tall evergreens hang with snow. There is no moon. There walking up the dark mountainside is a group of people walking slowly with faint, flickering light coming from the lanterns they carry. You are one of them or you are only an observer. As you get closer, you see that the group is lead by a woman. Her long dark hair falls down her back and is dusted with snow. All are well clothed for their trek- long thick coats embroidered with rich jewel colored thread., rich, deep boots on their feet and thick gloves of purple and amber and garnet on their hands.<span style=""> </span>By the pace of their<span style=""> </span>walk, they know where they are going and fully realize the work before them as the path is steep. The woman that is the leader knows that she is to meet with a messenger- what will be this messenger? And what will the message be? There is no giving into fear. The path leads us onward, forward, to where we need to be.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;">Above the snow covered trees, the stars glint in the black sky. There are more stars that you have ever seen. The pure coldness of the air and the vast sparkle of the stars take your breath away. Still you move on. After some time, you and the group come to a clearing.<span style=""> </span>In the dim light a vague shape is visible. The group stops but the leader walks slowly forward. As she draws closer, she sees it is a fox dragging something along the ground. She moves forward- the fox snarls- but still she moves slowly toward it. Her message. It is the antlers and top of the skull of a young buck. It is for you- she knows it deep within her- but she must pay the messenger. She tosses the fox a handful of dried meat she had brought in her pocket. Silently, the fox releases the antlers, takes the meat and is gone like a sigh.<span style=""> </span>She<span style=""> </span>picks up the antlers and returns to the group. Another <span style=""> </span>sits the antlers upon her head and secures them with delicately woven nettle ropes. The woman pauses a moment to look at the group and then turns to continue across the clearing and up over the final ridge.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;">As the expanse of the<span style=""> </span>vast U-shaped valley spread before her, her heart fills with a deep love and wonder. She stands tall- the antlers drawing her up straight. Just vaguely in the far east, the sky lightens and changes. Others in the group prepare the fire with the wood they have carried on their backs.<span style=""> </span>Silently, the woman stands by the cliff edge looking out at what she can not yet see, but that which she knows with all her being.<span style=""> </span>She takes a deep, even, slow breath of the clear cold air. <span style=""> </span>She is filled with the cold sure air. It tells her that all she is to be- all that she wants is within her. Her power spreads from the antlers through the top of her head, down her spine and fills her<span style=""> </span>to her toes.<span style=""> </span>She gives them the signal to light the fire which blazes up behind her.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;">The sun is rising! The sun returns! She raises her arms high in greeting. Raise your arms in greeting! Feel your power flush within you. You stand tall- the silhouette of a vibrant antlered <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Aruduinna</span> against the gold of the rising snow.<span style=""> </span>Now- dance and feel the joy!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;">As we slowly return along our golden rope, you carry with you the joy and the strength. They will be within you always- may they fill your soul.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;">Blessed Winter Solstice.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;">~<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Salvia</span><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><span style=""> </span>December 19, 2008</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">P.S. I have been thinking of these images for many nights as I lay going to sleep in my cozy bed. Only last night did the image of the fox and the antlers come to me. This morning, as I saw the image of the woman with antlers in my mind, I realized I have been carrying an image from a good friend's creation with in me. Thank, my dear friend <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Greenlee</span>, for inspiring me with your beautiful <a href="http://www.greenleesforest.com/arduinna.htm"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Arduinna</span>!!</a><br /><span style="font-family:Papyrus;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326770712121481368.post-5582759233520531492008-11-15T09:19:00.000-08:002008-11-15T09:27:22.965-08:00love poem<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNUahVvCNbZnur5mv6kODs5WqksynnD0qjjDwvP2ohdxq-9XGjwQTHa3WKy2rBD4l-GmDSCSQwr3vGnuTHUq2ryiUI3B7KgA4ubfqFYIYVkJCLFphnTlSwFSMHFp_3lRtOXDRyGqAG9g0/s1600-h/rock-PS.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNUahVvCNbZnur5mv6kODs5WqksynnD0qjjDwvP2ohdxq-9XGjwQTHa3WKy2rBD4l-GmDSCSQwr3vGnuTHUq2ryiUI3B7KgA4ubfqFYIYVkJCLFphnTlSwFSMHFp_3lRtOXDRyGqAG9g0/s320/rock-PS.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268937141555270770" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Diana! Lucina! Selene!<br />You take my hand and begin the joyous dance.<br />You are my mother, my daughter, my lover.<br />You are dressed in the a dress the color<br />of sparkle of ocean spray<br />of tea in a silver spoon<br />of the orange glow of our hearts.<br />Let us dance!<br />Let us sing on this night of your fullness.<br />Diana! Lucina! Selene!<br /><br /></div>Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326770712121481368.post-36584179676382888862008-11-13T08:48:00.000-08:002008-11-13T09:53:11.437-08:00Discipline<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4SvAovllY8KRipT5_Qv8AeBxYh93cVU5IcHqzkO6E0G4rx7y-m0ZeT-kei2-b8BBUPeuxuFgzGPqzX8zY-2XCKmTBAl0b4MSU4NZMdzL_bP1KPRlowwj0ozJOKWhV98oeXvFpwu9gEI/s1600-h/2751266.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4SvAovllY8KRipT5_Qv8AeBxYh93cVU5IcHqzkO6E0G4rx7y-m0ZeT-kei2-b8BBUPeuxuFgzGPqzX8zY-2XCKmTBAl0b4MSU4NZMdzL_bP1KPRlowwj0ozJOKWhV98oeXvFpwu9gEI/s320/2751266.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268201571013447890" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">How many blessings stream to you, my daughter? How many joys at this moment run through your fingers? You must breath and feel and understand.</span><br /><br />But, how? How am I to feel anything beyond this feeling of rushing to oblivion?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Daughter! Enough! Why do you turn away from your power? You know that you are the sky and the sea and yet you act like you are nothing more than your body? You have the power of the earth at your feet, why do you fool yourself into believing less? Should you choose, you can run numbly to oblivion- so many do. But how can you allow that when you have worked so hard to see your power- your connection.<br /><br />Release yourself from your own chains. Stand and allow yourself to feel the wind and the rain and the sunshine. You are pain. You are love. You are death. You are ecstasy.<br /><br /></span>Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326770712121481368.post-18739424854767684772008-10-16T21:37:00.000-07:002008-10-16T21:56:21.612-07:00other world<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEY_Gp4ldJCyG7dPj5l-bw8F8hj0Tq1fShtvPjyIVyuTQkKRVtcLGr3uRDHQXiZqyHHP56i2wMqo3-5faf9MdO8M3mVfVf_F1w9CTA08tgKssZq2g5nuaPEIhv8pNW_DMaimIQLIe0pzQ/s1600-h/foxwoods.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEY_Gp4ldJCyG7dPj5l-bw8F8hj0Tq1fShtvPjyIVyuTQkKRVtcLGr3uRDHQXiZqyHHP56i2wMqo3-5faf9MdO8M3mVfVf_F1w9CTA08tgKssZq2g5nuaPEIhv8pNW_DMaimIQLIe0pzQ/s320/foxwoods.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257978059707522530" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">I think there is a whole other world out there. I catch glimpses of it at times. There is a crispness to this world that makes me feel as if I walk in a fog most of the time. When we die, perhaps our souls- our energy- return to this world of light,action, sleep and teeth. We leave behind the world of thought and feelings- moving back into the world of sweet decay and contentment found in a meal and a nest.<br /><br />Now, in the mornings when I am able to take a jog, I give over to the pleasure of feeling my muscles and greeting the roadside plants. I watch them- see them bloom, ripen, decay and rest. As I pass them, I say their names in my mind: </span></span><i style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Raphanus raphanistrum</i> <span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">(what a great name!)- Wild Radish<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">- a treat now to see blooming white and lilac; Wild bramble rose- red hips hanging like garnets; an Apple tree still holding on to some of it's apples which fill the air with a smell of cider; poison oak putting on it's stunning red and orange autumn colors which fool the tourists into picking armfuls; and there- on the hill- wild grapes hang in the arms of the Hazelnut tree. What bounty! </span>My friends, I am always happy to see you.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc20KA_WJ9TaOXzYihMHV8ibuIE56t0-88SYkbTwHALIix6Pavhe4Cu10SL72cpsc9mIdJlE7zObTF0pSa-R8sKaOOfAKIn_d9DaeOzC9u3A9LDi5HlsioOkW9WQV6uMjeAXsaIuR-1kk/s1600-h/frogleaf.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc20KA_WJ9TaOXzYihMHV8ibuIE56t0-88SYkbTwHALIix6Pavhe4Cu10SL72cpsc9mIdJlE7zObTF0pSa-R8sKaOOfAKIn_d9DaeOzC9u3A9LDi5HlsioOkW9WQV6uMjeAXsaIuR-1kk/s320/frogleaf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257978143558346642" border="0" /></a>Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326770712121481368.post-86372324679314386682008-10-04T11:00:00.000-07:002008-10-04T11:12:57.410-07:00Where peace lies<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUWeCMq8ivgGLv0TRttSii60EpHwzx3F34XScGbj3CbCzYyo-E3GZo5hZNv6U1MtU84IbpjIUzRXO4j8Jtf6OQi-pCbKvVeBtTXAVmm06y0stW53qyj9BLlUHl35qO72DfQlz3ek3kmc/s1600-h/mt+lake.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUWeCMq8ivgGLv0TRttSii60EpHwzx3F34XScGbj3CbCzYyo-E3GZo5hZNv6U1MtU84IbpjIUzRXO4j8Jtf6OQi-pCbKvVeBtTXAVmm06y0stW53qyj9BLlUHl35qO72DfQlz3ek3kmc/s320/mt+lake.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253360551092351442" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">It is in an image of green water that brings me peace these days. I wonder where it is? You walk through the woods to get there and there is a closeness and warmth that soothes.<br /><br />Just last month, it all slipped through my fingers. I could look and see the sacred, but I could not feel it at all. <span style="font-style: italic;">All is chance and all is lost even before it is found.</span> It was a lonely place.<br /><br />Then this came to me- a message-a reminder- whatever, I needed it: "There is enough. There is enough love. There is enough time. There is enough forgiveness. There is enough strength." I believed it and I felt it. It was as if my heart opened again. There is enough.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-2nMfw07FoT6XYGc-96Fb_NWlDpKn8HgKiLgQIT0m2ubcDsknJ-mU07N-gO1s5nI-TfHAw01qp80uDwqEY1sT7e2IrsqdeKfAlCTb3T0bHCJk_IKctFn1APqA-36zN-no3wfblZQgZhY/s1600-h/July+2006+074.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-2nMfw07FoT6XYGc-96Fb_NWlDpKn8HgKiLgQIT0m2ubcDsknJ-mU07N-gO1s5nI-TfHAw01qp80uDwqEY1sT7e2IrsqdeKfAlCTb3T0bHCJk_IKctFn1APqA-36zN-no3wfblZQgZhY/s320/July+2006+074.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253360418723877394" border="0" /></a>Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7326770712121481368.post-21589288365243862362008-10-04T09:56:00.000-07:002008-10-04T10:00:02.390-07:00Bridge to Autumn<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssquTgjT08C7rEUoXKmzZ67b-vwLueqtxN1tJjrLcUL6sh0EE0ZHc846QRtiUJa9N_29vLOJI52O-_tKSHfLp0-eRZT-vHWtpTxAyY6kONGVQ64sC_AWqLW_3WkTUQygtXYE7Qle04qk/s1600-h/bridge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssquTgjT08C7rEUoXKmzZ67b-vwLueqtxN1tJjrLcUL6sh0EE0ZHc846QRtiUJa9N_29vLOJI52O-_tKSHfLp0-eRZT-vHWtpTxAyY6kONGVQ64sC_AWqLW_3WkTUQygtXYE7Qle04qk/s320/bridge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253343735012693378" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">The energy of this time pours and swirls. It can connect and it can befuddle. It builds until it sweeps me to a different place all together. The energy of this time of year is wild, but I trust it. I will let it flow through me.<br /><br />I wake to wind and rain. A white egret was standing in the pond with a group of mallards around it. I want to dance with the leaves and meditate with the water birds.<br /></span></span>Dhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02310721598790544110noreply@blogger.com0