I wandered through the forest, lost and bereft, until I came across a sacred grove. The tree in the center was broken and battered like me, yet its form was that of a cross. Not unlike myself when I extend my arms up to shoulder height and hold them there. But I was too tired to stand there like the tree with my arms held aloft. It was no small thing just to be present most days, let alone holding a pose. So, I sat in the center of the sacred grove and I asked the tree for some of its strength.
A new poem about what can grow in our heart space…
What If A Tulip Sprang?
What if a tulip sprang,
from my heart?
What if the tender sprouts
rose up from my heart
until they became leaves
that spread
within my heat space,
healing
my weary soul.
Oh, those strong green leaves
rising from the Earth,
do they not form
the shape of
the bottom of
the heart.
They are the base
that holds up
the flower.
The stem begins to grow.
It is taller than
the leaves
and on top of the stem
forms a bud.
The bud begins to grow.
Soon that bud
Presents the faint hint
of color.
Then the bud
begins to open.
It forms fully into
a ripe tulip
rich with hues
of magenta,
white and green.
No ordinary tulip,
this one.
This tulip
It unfolds all ruffly
like a skirt with a petticoat
and that is the crux
of its beauty.
Each petal is a piece
of my heart.
Each petal is a layer
of my life.
Each petal
is the soft,
sweet,
gentle space
I hold
In my heart.
What if
a tulip sprang
from my heart?
If a tulip sprang
from my heart,
it would surely signify
my heart is open,
and I too
can unfold
like the ruffled tulip
that sprang up
from the Earth.
A Shadow of Myself
Here I stand,
a shadow of myself,
looking for a familiar posture.
A shadow of myself
peers through the lens
of my camera
Looking for
the woman
I used to be.
I, the me’s
I used to be,
strong and tenacious.
Now I stand shakily
on solid ground.
A shadow of myself.
Strength replaced
by pain and worry.
I am but a shadow of myself.
In my mind
my thoughts drift back
to the me’s I used to be.
Now I see shadows
where I was once
strong.
Now I see shadows,
my tenacity
is gone.
Here I stand,
a shadow of myself,
looking for a familiar connection.
Within silence my voice dwells.
My voice, it swirls around in my head,
and spins so swiftly,
it is hard to get it all
down on paper.
Most times the task seems
Insurmountable.
I need to think like a river,
rapidly rushing by
and take pause to hear,
write,
and speak
the words I hear
in silence.
My mind is never silent.
it rushes like the river
to the sea.
There is silence
in the river
as it
rushes by.
The river,
always in motion,
it makes nary a sound
but within it
dwells power, a force
that flows like words
on paper.
Peace, love, joy – these, according to St. Paul, are the three fruits of the spirit. They correspond very closely to the three essential attributes of God, as summarized in the Indian formula, sat, chit, ananda – being, knowledge, bliss. Peace is the manifestation of unified being. Love is the mode of divine knowledge. And bliss, the concomitant of perfection, is the same as joy. ~ Aldous Huxley: Huxley and God
In early November 2020, I planted about 100 bulbs in my first year pandemic garden. My elbow has never been quite the same after all that digging, but it was well worth the nagging pain that comes and goes with over use. Having lived in my apartment since fall 2018, I had not gardened at all. But like many stuck at home from the COVID pandemic, I found myself longing to garden so that I could be outside and not around other people. Who knew back then that COVID would drag out so long. I didn’t.
I was delighted by the bulbs that sprouted up last spring, and spent a lot of time last spring and summer photographing the flowers in my garden. I did series of the same flowers from bud until they passed on. I did series of pollinators feeding on the flowers in my gardens. I whiled away the time, staying safe at home, with my gardens and my camera.
Sometimes I muse and I ramble because I can... I muse about life and things that matter to me...
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