Wind and Chi

This field, our place of wind and chi.
Big sky – distant mountains and
wind, always the wind
pushing the chi into our souls,
filling every cell of our bodies
with its energy.

We were together.

But now… he is gone….
and I am left here alone.
The silent soft sadness surrounds me and
when my body can hold no more
seeps from my fingertips and
the corners of my eyes.

In despair I sit, just sit with
my hands and feet in the grass,
my head in the clouds and
my heart in his hands.

This place, this field, is a crack in the veil
between the worlds
where the bodhicitta flows.

The Earth’s life force that exists here swirls like smoke around my feet
and echoes in the bird song
that fills the spaces between the trees.

Sun light is filtered in ever changing
dappled patters as the wind ripples
the grasses in waves that travel through this wind-chi place.

His essence lingers in this thin place and
even after so many years have passed,
it is here, but only here,
that I still feel him beside me.

I hear his voice on the wind,
see his smile in the bird song, and feel
his love in the sweet softness of the grass and
whispers of the evening mist.

When I am here, time moves slowly and
each moment osculates freely in this place
of wind and chi
where forever is cradled in the
blooms of the milkweed.

In memory J

I Will Make You Soup

I will make you soup, my Lord and

Fill it with the spices of life so that you may taste the wonders you have given to me.

There will be salt for truth and

Pepper for hurt.

Sugar for love and

Bitters for sadness.

Potatoes will let you taste the flavor of the earth and

Beets, the warmth of the soil.

Carrots will spill out their liquid orange sunshine for your pleasure and

Savory herbs will add flavor to surprise your taste buds with every sip.

My delight in the life you have given me makes me what to give back to you so,

I will make you soup, my Lord

And I will stir it with love.

Holders of Stars

I have joined my sisters and retreated.

Back and back to the very beginning,

Not just my beginning but yours, ours.

Back to when the sacredness of women was honored.

A time when it was known and valued that women were

The givers of life and holders of stars.

Society has changed over the years, but in our hearts there remains

An understanding of the continuity of our original place and purpose.

We know that we are not in or of this world

But exist in our eternal beingness.

We are awake and are coming back to claim our rightful place.

The past is remembered in our collective consciousness and it is with renewed Courage and strength that we again dance in the forest,

And the forest dances in us.

Once more the mountains and ocean belong to us,

And we to them.

Our renewed story is a recognition of our eternal story.

It is the story of our connection to the divine,

Not one limited to any certain place or time but a story for all eternity.

The same eternity that resides in a milkweed bloom, a bird’s egg,

A baby’s laugh, and our hearts.

And although our voices remain soft and gentle, we will no longer be silenced.

We are not done with this world and

The writing of our collective story will never be finished

As it has no beginning or end.

Our time is now and together we will step out of time one by one and

Rejoin our story where we were forced out of it years ago.

We are still the givers of life and

The holders of stars.

Sacred women once more,

As one voice and mind.

Together again and always.

I’ll Save Your Place

The doors and windows are open wide and welcome

The wind as it blows through my house and my soul.

It brings a beingness of light and truth, peace and love, disguised as wind.

Trees sway in its beauty,

Souls sing in harmony with its truth and

The unconscious void is filled with its one love.

I know that the empty void from my past existed only in my mind.

My mind was deluded and swayed by the ways of the world but now,

I am neither of the world nor in the world as

The world is in me and you and you and you…

There is no separateness in our beings but great diversity in our humanness,

As it should be, as it was meant to be. The contrast is beautiful.

“Between the silence of the mountains and the crashing of the sea, there lives a land I once lived in and he’s waiting there for me” Moody Blues

So… will you meet me there, in the silence of the mountains, in the void of fullness, in a world of our own making

Where the wind blows its truth into our souls

And surrounds our hearts with love?

If I get there first, I’ll save your place.

Will you do the same for me?

Good Enough

I can’t get to it all,

But its good enough.

I can accept that now.

The urgency for more is gone.

My time is well spent, and it is enough.

Less means more.

More time for each one,

Each bean, each tomato, each seed.

The rows welcome me to the garden

Each day filled with goodness and grace.

Jars, 6 at a time with more tomorrow, gleam on the kitchen counter.

I savor the moments of steaming pots and boiling beets.

Summer heart shared with fogged windows and pinging jar seals.

It is more than good enough.

August

August, a month of

Heavy air, morning mists and summer’s last hurrah.

Its sultry nights are drenched in humid air and thunder

With light shows between the clouds at midnight and

Rain hissing in the dark on the forest green.

Late summer dawns are still and thick and hang over

Flowers spent and gardens full.

In late August the earth speaks to me in fruits and vegetables,

Hay fields and corn rows, empty fields and full root cellars,

Reminding me that Summer’s end is near.

Darkness

The stillness of the night air

Hangs heavy outside my window.

Its darkness threatens to come in,

But my reading light keeps it at bay, and

Although the light is bright, drips of silent night

Sneak in around the edges of my window sill

And puddle on the floor by the curtain hem

To remind me of the darkness that lurks just outside

My window

And my heart.

Rain

The sound of rain takes me to a place of inner peace as it

Falls in sheets, slides down the roof and over its edge in a curtain of water.

Tree leaves dance with the weight of the rain and

Flowers wash their faces in its freshness.

The sky is lower on rainy days and

Holds me close to the ground.

Forest sounds are muted and muffled and

Light is  defused into grayness.

It is not a sad and depressing grayness,

But a soothing and peaceful shade,

Full of the necessity of remembered sorrows and joys.

I love a  rainy day that is soft and dark.  It begs me to stop, rest, and be mindful of my surroundings and loves.

It reminds me to take the time to be lulled by the patter of rain on the windows

Into a place of inner stillness,

And there remain, content to just be and

Accept what is.

Curtis Field in Summer

Between the birdsong and morning sunlight,

Waves of grass sway in unison, while

The melody of life and light

Plays across Curtis field.

Heated mist rises from the grasses in currents of song

And murmurs in harmony with the breath of the encircling trees.

This field holds its life close,

An entire universe existing in the space of a blade of grass.

Life here teams in layers from dirt to dawn and

Root to crown.

This is a place of abundance, an abundance

Kept well hidden beneath layers of grass.

A place for contemplation and peace; one rich with the essence of life.

So please come and sit here with me again.

Get up close and watch,

Feel the warmth of life surrounding us.

Embrace its sweetness and

Hold the magic of this place in your soul forever.

And when your soul remembers, and the time is right, take my hands in yours and

Be with me once more.

Just you and me between the birdsong and morning sunlight.

 

 

3/18/16