Daughters of the dew….,

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(a love letter to that bit in each of us that can feel driven, at times, to try too hard)

You’re fresh drop of dew from the morning of all that is good,
born to dance in the sunlight and dream dreams that grow up
around you like flowers in the rain
in a world that goes dry
and cracks the earth where you scatter your seeds,
wet by tears that you cry in the night.

And when the rains come you can lose yourself for trying
hard to make something happen when your seed goes into the deep,
because it can feel a little naked when they go missing from sight.

“Just rise,”
I hear the rumble from our hollows,
places that can feel a little like drowning while others seem to look on unconcerned,
a bit alone because you feel a need they cannot see
and your mad struggle can jerk fistfuls of their hair
so that they back away in the dark.

Listen,  little dewdrop,
you can’t feel it in the push and wrestle,
but if you lose the claw and grapple,
and go still just beneath your shoulders,
you’ll feel them there…….firm hands of support.

You’re not drowning as it may seem.
And nowhere near alone.

Always they’ve been there,  these loving arms,
felt only by those who stop thrashing
and find that they don’t sink
because buoyancy endures what we fear
and you were born for these wild waters,
made to rise and float and ride.

Let go your demand of the being beside you
and let yourself be supported in the only way they know
because when you stab your need at them
it drives a wedge  you may not even mean
and you may both miss out on the bloom.

We’re meant to travel these wilds together,
seen and celebrated sisters,
a collective. life-giving dew.
Rise,  friend.

“Survivors have to work hard to live each day and to make something new
out of seemingly nothing.  A client told me that no one understands this about her.
All she must muster from moment to moment.
Without propulsion behind us,  it can feel futile to thrust forward.
Stuck in gravity
Yet there is an alternative called magnetic levitation.
This is where great stuff is made.  Magnetic fields can make possible
flying cars,  floating cities,  and hovering trains.
Big things emerge when we rise above our circumstances.
You really can be lifted up.
The thing is,  your star,  while set in a storm,  might just shake out to be spectacular.”
– Rachel Awes,
from her fabulous book The Great Green Okayness

I’ll be sending out a little love bomb to Jeanie of Marmalade Gypsy this week.
I love this stuff:)  Drawing another name from this weeks comments
for a fresh handwritten,  homemade package
from my heart to yours.
It’s joy when you come around!

those smiling eyes…


There is a table where I’ve waited
in the corner of my heart,
where this girlish hope peered hard
for hurried, anxious eyes to stop and meet with mine,
and it felt sometimes like starving,
wishing they’d look at me and smile.

Somehow I learned to worry that maybe the heavy thing
that dragged the sparkle from those eyes
was me.

So I tried to help harder
and care harder
and work harder
and wait harder…

thank God it doesn’t work:)

Because another’s mood isn’t our mirror,
their struggle doesn’t say who we are,
their feelings  aren’t our portion,
and this dark table in the corner
isn’t where we have to spend our precious days
so I’m painting,  re-purposing and moving it on out,
into the light,

and it seems as if someone has opened a window
(was that there all along?)
and swirled drops of breeze and sunlight
into some closed off spaces
and it feels like my first taste of ice cream,
and I breathe sweet that the grin that I’m hungry for
is shining deep into my heart from my own smiling eyes.

(this little patch of words is simply
about self-care and soul-tending
in some of  the weedy parts of my garden.)

“I am not referring to acts of love,  kindness,  compassion,  and true helping
-situations where our assistance is legitimately wanted and needed
and we want to give that assistance.
These acts are the good stuff of life.
Rescuing or caretaking isn’t.”

-Melody Beattie

I’m taking this month of August
to rest my soul
by writing more
( I know,  not less…..go figure)
and coming around daily to post
the stuff that’s stirring in my heart.
You’re oh so welcome to drop in when you can.

Sea deep and sky sure….


I dreamed my world was sinking,
going down,  down,  deeper into the
dank,  dark,  depths.
Drowning seemed so horrifyingly sure.
I held fierce the rope I’d tied between us
until my lungs shuddered to bursting,
tucked my chin to chest to muster more grip
and in that flicker of ear-to-heart
I heard it quiet like a lullabye
“I’m deeper,  still……let go the rope”

Let go and surface,  my heart urged calmly.

Heaving deep,  exhausted gasps
my face felt again the sweet rush of air
and here in this big,  wide sea
I let go the weight of worry and rescue,
trusting in a stronger love
that is deeper still.

Do you feel it in your deepest soul,  the fear-grip?
White knuckles shaky on a worry rope you cling to tight and breathless
and blistered and worn,
pulling you down?
Detach….let it go…..there is a better way.

I sense the struggle down below
but also the firm and gentle pulse of peace
as it whispers through the panic
“you can swim….you can swim”

I go calm as I note the salt of the water on my lips,
the stir of breeze
and the vastness and blues of the sky
as the waves toss me sure toward the shore

And suddenly  I  just am again
and not so necessary,
here with my freedom
and my toes in the sand.

“Detachment does not mean we don’t care.
It means we learn to love,  care and be involved without going crazy.
We become free to love and care in ways that help others
and don’t hurt ourselves.”
-Melody Beattie

I’ll be here every day this month,
sharing a little.