i have begun again to give thanks before i eat and drink, pausing a moment to hold in my awareness all of the beings who worked and gave so that i can be fed. thanks to the animals and plants who give their bodies, milk, eggs, fruit for our food. thanks to the insects who pollinate the plants. thanks to the earth, who holds and nourishes the plants, animals, all of us. thanks to the sun, whose light feeds the plants who feed us all. thanks to water, which feeds the plants, animals, us. thanks to all of the humans who worked with the food, who carried it over miles, so that it could be here for me.
i haven't given thanks in a long time in this way. living without others who give thanks when they eat, at least in a visible way, i have slowly shied away from it, opting over time to take the quieter route, to not stand out. as i return again to this more full version of myself, as i again pay respects to my inner calling by paying respect to those things that let me live, i return to myself in a profound way.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Equinox
welcome spring.
today i bought a swing for the boy. hung it in the apple tree in our backyard, sat him in it just as husband was getting home from work. we both laughed to see how he loved it. initially the boy laughed and laughed, looking at us both, pouring his love of it out to us. then, eyes still gleaming, he slipped into a swing-trance, lids lowering, and just sang "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" for entire breaths as he swung forward and back, forward and back, a reverie of pleasure.
later on, indoors, i touched my husband's head, ran my fingers through his hair as he worked at the computer, then cradled the boy's head in my hand while he nursed to sleep in his sling. my two beloved men, safe in our home. how blessed we are, to live in this land in a time of peace. how heartbreaking, so many families living their lives in places of war.
a crow hopped about in the low branches of our red maple the other day. curious, as i rarely seen one so low in a tree. then i saw the twig in its mouth - gathering material for a nest!
saw my first daffodil leaves of the season extending upward today, tucked against a building. straight green stalks of leaves, like sea grass, floating entirely toward the sky.
pruned the forsythia this week, cutting out many of the old central stalks, as the book says, to encourage more flowers on the newer stalks. had to cut several of the new stalks in order to reach the old ones. prayed as i worked that i may cut away some of my old growth, my old habits and behaviors that no longer serve me well, to open up room within myself for flowers, for lightness. that i may accept the pain and discomfort of letting these patterns go in the interest of the new growth.
planning to prune our grand old apple trees again this month, as well as our new little plums, peach, and cherry. once the snow is all cleared and the garden soil a little dried, in with the lettuce! hoping to set up the greenhouse i bought two years ago under the guidance of my friend rick, to shelter and encourage the lettuce.
today i bought a swing for the boy. hung it in the apple tree in our backyard, sat him in it just as husband was getting home from work. we both laughed to see how he loved it. initially the boy laughed and laughed, looking at us both, pouring his love of it out to us. then, eyes still gleaming, he slipped into a swing-trance, lids lowering, and just sang "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" for entire breaths as he swung forward and back, forward and back, a reverie of pleasure.
later on, indoors, i touched my husband's head, ran my fingers through his hair as he worked at the computer, then cradled the boy's head in my hand while he nursed to sleep in his sling. my two beloved men, safe in our home. how blessed we are, to live in this land in a time of peace. how heartbreaking, so many families living their lives in places of war.
a crow hopped about in the low branches of our red maple the other day. curious, as i rarely seen one so low in a tree. then i saw the twig in its mouth - gathering material for a nest!
saw my first daffodil leaves of the season extending upward today, tucked against a building. straight green stalks of leaves, like sea grass, floating entirely toward the sky.
pruned the forsythia this week, cutting out many of the old central stalks, as the book says, to encourage more flowers on the newer stalks. had to cut several of the new stalks in order to reach the old ones. prayed as i worked that i may cut away some of my old growth, my old habits and behaviors that no longer serve me well, to open up room within myself for flowers, for lightness. that i may accept the pain and discomfort of letting these patterns go in the interest of the new growth.
planning to prune our grand old apple trees again this month, as well as our new little plums, peach, and cherry. once the snow is all cleared and the garden soil a little dried, in with the lettuce! hoping to set up the greenhouse i bought two years ago under the guidance of my friend rick, to shelter and encourage the lettuce.
Friday, March 6, 2009
march 7
so, dear friend, tomorrow is the day to say goodbye. you're all in ashes now, and we gather around you, we who love you.
it's still too much to believe you've died - you, laughing, always awork at something, involved with this or that - how are we to believe that you've left us, you lively spirit?
are you in joy, dancing around us though we grieve, laughing your laugh?
or are you, like us, grief-stricken, unbelieving, mourning this life?
it is a scant two weeks since you were well among us, living just as we do, one of us. now, suddenly, your time has come to be attended to, held, loved, celebrated. how do we remember you when we want you to continue walking with us? how do we allow you to become "memory" when we want you here with us?
i never said to you how much you meant to me. let me say it now.
i never said how i loved your crow's feet when you laughed. how you made us feel welcomed, seen, appreciated. i never told you that the day was brighter when you were there, that i liked to hear what you thought. that it always made me glad to have you around. i never told you that you were good company, that the world was a nicer place because you were in it. these things are known without words, but you deserve to be told them, as well.
friend, how do we let go of you when we weren't ready for you to die? you are still so vibrant in our minds, so recent our memories of you, so alive. why aren't you alive?
where do we find you now? in our own love of things. in the spring approaching, carrying to us the sun, the breezes warm on our skin, hands in the earth to dig, plant, tend. in the apple blossoms that will come, the daffodils, crocuses, lilacs. in shared laughter. in our own fear. in our willingness to be ouselves fully, openly, courageously, truthfully, even when those around us don't understand why we must be different. where do we find you? in the arms of our friends, in gentleness, in the lightness of laughter that lifts us up and out of our troubles. in our impulse to help, and help.
the rain will still fall over your land, the sun will still warm it, inviting your flowers to rise and bloom, only this spring will be without you. and more will come, and the plants you buried in the earth will continue in their ways, placed by the design from your heart. your trees will quiver in the wind, and will continue to hold safely the nests of the birds.
where do we find you? the love we have for you is made of you, generated by who you are, who we were as friends. if you had not lived, it would not be there, so the love itself is you, your effect on us. when we feel it, it is you being held in our hearts that we feel.
may we all be so loved, and so released.
it's still too much to believe you've died - you, laughing, always awork at something, involved with this or that - how are we to believe that you've left us, you lively spirit?
are you in joy, dancing around us though we grieve, laughing your laugh?
or are you, like us, grief-stricken, unbelieving, mourning this life?
it is a scant two weeks since you were well among us, living just as we do, one of us. now, suddenly, your time has come to be attended to, held, loved, celebrated. how do we remember you when we want you to continue walking with us? how do we allow you to become "memory" when we want you here with us?
i never said to you how much you meant to me. let me say it now.
i never said how i loved your crow's feet when you laughed. how you made us feel welcomed, seen, appreciated. i never told you that the day was brighter when you were there, that i liked to hear what you thought. that it always made me glad to have you around. i never told you that you were good company, that the world was a nicer place because you were in it. these things are known without words, but you deserve to be told them, as well.
friend, how do we let go of you when we weren't ready for you to die? you are still so vibrant in our minds, so recent our memories of you, so alive. why aren't you alive?
where do we find you now? in our own love of things. in the spring approaching, carrying to us the sun, the breezes warm on our skin, hands in the earth to dig, plant, tend. in the apple blossoms that will come, the daffodils, crocuses, lilacs. in shared laughter. in our own fear. in our willingness to be ouselves fully, openly, courageously, truthfully, even when those around us don't understand why we must be different. where do we find you? in the arms of our friends, in gentleness, in the lightness of laughter that lifts us up and out of our troubles. in our impulse to help, and help.
the rain will still fall over your land, the sun will still warm it, inviting your flowers to rise and bloom, only this spring will be without you. and more will come, and the plants you buried in the earth will continue in their ways, placed by the design from your heart. your trees will quiver in the wind, and will continue to hold safely the nests of the birds.
where do we find you? the love we have for you is made of you, generated by who you are, who we were as friends. if you had not lived, it would not be there, so the love itself is you, your effect on us. when we feel it, it is you being held in our hearts that we feel.
may we all be so loved, and so released.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)