once upon a winter….

 

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I’ve been walking around in the woods.
A  lot.
Just tramping across the land on trails
because I can
and my heart is calling me.

My wintertime projects wonder what’s up with me,
where I go each day
and why I leave them unattended,
especially since I prattled on all year
about how much I couldn’t wait to hug their necks
once the hours turned gentle.

The walls still waiting for their fresh paint,
especially the ones I promised to un-paint,
seem to greet me with their hands on their hips
each time I burst through the door
with pink cheeks and dirty boots,
the dogs lapping water noisily and trailing dried grass and mud.

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I get it.
They’re in a funk over being neglected.
But  I lop off some sweet orange branches blooming crazy early
and set them around in mason jars
and how perfect is that?
And the blackbird feathers I’m clutching in my hand
I tuck into a pretty ceramic pot
and isn’t that just glorious?

And I need just a little while longer to work it out with my guitar
what I heard the wind whispering
and how warm the sun felt on my face
and how the water was going in every sort of burble and shoosh
you can imagine out there
and how I’m punch drunk in love with the wildness of it all.

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And it tickles like jazz to sit down and journal out my heart
on the one little bell I make at each day’s end,
just one sweet bite
with little room for words
and I did paint a bouquet of sticks one day
when an ice storm shut me in.
Yes, the walls still wait for their miracles
and the bathrooms and floors
and I’ll need to sleep with a heating pad again tonight

But can I tell you
that never has a winter ever
held more magic for me
and I’m holding it dear
like a snowflake in my hand.

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“We have only this moment,
sparkling like a star in our hand
-and melting like a snowflake.”
-Marie B. Ray

into the wild….

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I want more of this in my life,
to get offroad and into those fields and woods
I swoon over as I drive along busy
and heavy with gotta be somewhere else,
to put my feet into those rivers and wallow for awhile,
to follow a path and let the twists and turns in the trail
untwist some knots in me.

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I want to tramp unhurried through the forest,
to follow deeper into the woods an old stone wall
and maybe hear it’s stories,
to wander down a dirt road just because the sun feels warm
on my hair
and the sky has a blue about it
that moves me to feeling free
and there’s  nowhere in particular I have to be
just for now.

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 and I can follow
just because my heart is calling me.

I’m so hungry for this.
And so I’m going to slice off some thick
chunks of time this year
and see where the wild winds
may take me.
I’ll be sure to come around and share with you
what the woodlands whisper
I’ll be here every week
with wild and growing joy.

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“Night and day the river flows.
We are all canyoneers.
We are all passengers on this little mossy ship,
this delicate dory sailing around the sun that humans call the earth.
Joy,  shipmates,  joy.”
-Edward Abbey

(THANK you for continuing to come around even tho’ I don’t show up on google reader yet…..hoping for some resolution soon!)

heartsick and healing…


I’ve been shocked so hard
by news so bad
that my footing feels floppy,
as if the earth has a really bad wobble
and I’m queasy from riding in the back seat
with cold wind rushing at my eyes,
stinging my vision cloudy with tears.

My wings tremble,
and letting go muscles seize up tight
as heartache punches air from chest
and I’m homesick for feeling safe,
and  wonder if I’ll find my way back there again
through the thick walls of sadness thrown up
when a dear one goes missing
and prayers go unanswered,
his body pulled from the river
bound with chains and concrete
and horror pounds on a family
who have loved this one so well.

and today  the charcoal morning mist
lifting off the Autumn peaks
doesn’t shove the bricks of sorrow
off my chest
and I climb until I’m shaking
and my questions tumble out
and find no answers in the wind
but comfort comes and finds me still
and croons her ancient songs

how there is rest in even this,
tense mind driven to understand,
a grace to lay it down
and listen to the love
crying out in every leaf and twig and flower,
pressing their prints into broken hearts
and etchings in the pain.


Is it worth it
to love and lose so hard
?

… the wind whispers “yes”
and the leaves flutter healing
and the mountains shoulder the sorrow
that my heart can’t keep,

 my soul settles soft into mystery
and,
face pressed firm to blue sky,
there comes a heap of  help in letting go
of the driven-ness
to know,
to know.

 “I didn’t need to understand
the hypostatic unity of the Trinity.
I just needed to turn my life over
to whoever came up
with the redwood trees.”

-Anne Lammott

I’m a bit late posting this week.
I’ve been heartsick over the tragedy
of a dear-to-my-heart family who lost their gentle son
in the worst sort of way
and didn’t want to post
until I could write true.
It took awhile to wrestle through.
I appreciate it when you come around and read
….it’s joy to share.