When Hearts Hurt

When hearts hurt it’s hard to see clearly anything beyond. When hearts hurt, hours drag on in dulled enjoyment and striking pain. But out there – beyond the walls of self, is a broad sky and nature existing, rejoicing the day! We’re not meant for worry. Nature doesn’t worry. She drinks in sustenance.

We are not meant for anything but life: rhythms and cycles. Each day’s sun and moon rising and setting, whether we see them or not.

Look at this new day! Get outside of yourself and bask in beauty and be thankful for all of life!

Here And Now

Here And Now
I am not Native
But I feel the pain, hear anguished cries on the river, wind carrying sins of ancestors: mine of timber cutters and millers and growers of wheat
White men and women of European descent following their own calls for survival, And all the while, damage and death being done to the land and the people who came before.
What is to be done now with this, grandchildren?
Are we killing Mother Earth, Father Sky?
Will their stories pass away, no longer whispered in seeded hopes rising in ground and air and hearts we have poisoned?
How can we take steps forward on this common land?

Calling Mom

The night before my mother’s 11/11 birthday, I slept restlessly.

I woke to see 11:11 on the digital clock. Again at 2:22.

I consider repeated numbers to be signals, little “hellos” from my mom who left her body years ago.

I finally slept, and dreamed.

My husband and I, and a number of strangers, were in the outdoors on wilderness adventure.

We climbed higher and higher on rock hillsides then across wet and mossy ledges. We slid on our seats, maneuvering with our feet to keep from going off the edge.

I tried to keep up, but slid over off. I slowed my pace, lost sight of them. I eased over an oddly situated shelf constructed of wood. Underneath were supplies for the journey ahead.

A man appeared to assist in making selections, but I wanted to consider the items myself.

I rejected a heavy automobile tire, various boxes I couldn’t carry.

I found a large hood with attached headset. I put it on.

“Want to call your mom?” The man asked.

“Of course,” I responded.

But the wires dangling from the headset weren’t attached to anything.

Would Mom have a headset wherever she is?

How do I reach her?

That’s when I woke from the dream – on the morning of her birthday: fifteen years after she passed.

I’d love to talk with her.

But I know I don’t need an ill fitting hood or headset to reach her. I’ll make it through. I’ll navigate the slippery cliffs of life ahead. Love will guide me.

I know my mom is not “gone.” She’s not here in her body.

But sometimes, we still communicate. Especially in the outdoors I believe nature assists us in realizing our fondest hopes.

Thank you, Mom, for the dream about calling you! I love you.

#outdoors, #nature, #love, #adventure

Nature

these things happen to me

I see something beautiful and words come

and I put them to the page

Sometimes I feel the poet is there

in nature, waiting to be discovered

But that isn’t true

The poet is nature

She is the breath of morning

the sigh of sunset

She is peace

Color is her language

She is light

goodness

swelling and glowing and spreading

And her threads stretch out for you

for us

Reach out

Take her

Bring her close

Wrap up in the cloak of comfort she weaves

Nature colors my mind with wonder

How can this be real?

Only a moment

And “real” changes

If that’s true, then we can change “what is” like nature does

every moment

every thought

every intention for good

every expression of love like color making a new vision of healing

#goodness #nature #poetry #spirit #color #healing

Peace

Peace is there

There in the light

Don’t be afraid

As it’s beauty fades

Peace is not stagnant

It moves and breathes

With us, in us

We are made in peace

We have only to remember