Sparkling Lotus-land

the deep passage

Truth be told:  I have greatly enjoyed the past two months of blog silence.  It's representative of a rather extensive time-out I've allowed myself; the better to hear/know that Self as changes in all sorts of intentional and previously unimagined ways.   This coincided with a time in the year's natural order when I'm always very conscious of an energetic spiral that moves inward and then back out in a pattern of unwinding.  And that's what I've been doing:  unwinding various layers of buried tension, carefully crafted assumptions and presumptions, intentional focus that's outlived its organic lifespan, and so forth and so on.

When I decided to indulge in a growing need for more (meaning of a higher quality...) solitude it was very clear to me that I would have to be disciplined and self-compassionate enough to heed the rhythm of my own inner time clock rather than falling back on patterns of withdrawal that chronically short circuits itself by jumping back into the fray ASAP.  Or permitting my accommodation mechanisms to be activated through the stated needs/preferences of somebody else.

The latter part wasn't easy to maintain and I didn't expect it to be.  I'm the sort of person others depend on for inspiration and psychic nourishment.  I'm also someone who seems to spend an unusual amount of time hearing the (unsolicited) confessions and emotional outpourings of others.  Sometimes I know the people involved well enough to anticipate what's going to happen but, more often than not, it just happens and nine times out of ten without any acknowledgment that this process can be quite taxing (and perhaps not situationally appropriate) for The Listener.

Usually, the fact that it's nearly always up to me to set boundaries (and assume sole ongoing responsibility for maintaining them), causes some inner friction between my dualistic capacities for knee-jerk compassion and frustrated impatience.  For much of my life it's appeared that I have far more multi-directional empathy than is good or constructive from an I, Me, Mine perspective.  What this has tended to mean is that I chronically reach a point of critical mass when I must demand space to tend to my own issues in a way that seems very sudden and, more often than not, completely unexpected from the perspective of the person who has come to rely on me listening to them on their terms and otherwise behaving as if I don't have any issues or attendant neediness of my own.

Oftentimes, in the aftermath of making it clear (primarily to myself but then also [at times problematically] to the other party involved) that I've reached the end of the line, I seek out the company of a tree - such as the Weeping Cherry pictures above - with trailing branches.  These trees generally hold a medicine spirit that offers nourishment for those with a powerful need to ground their energy and re-connect with Source.

I also tend to seek out contained bodies of water that feed or are fed from a swiftly moving source.  This type of landscape offers great meditational value during times when I feel overly pressured or pressurized at an emotional and psychic level.  I began the time-out I'm currently attempting to end with a series of dreams that involved bird nests full of newly born babies.  They were always screaming insatiably for their mother's attention. 

Over the course of a few weeks the dreams morphed so that the mother was actively quashing the babies' demands.  She wasn't hurting them (which I kept expecting her to do with the part of my mind that generally remains lucid during dreamtime) but very firmly building little walls around them which were made from nesting materials.  And I took a cue from these dreams:  what if I didn't have to tell people to step off and let me breathe so much as I need to provide nest/nurturing material that offered them a sense of safety and comfort through the materials themselves rather than my unflagging attentiveness?

Something I fully realize:  for the [oftentimes damaged and emotionally bruised] recipient such attentiveness has an illusory quality that strongly appeals to anyone who hasn't received sufficient helpful/positive attention at critical points in their development.  As a result the helpful/positive quadrant of that equation doesn't tend to be understood.  It's oftentimes rejected or undervalued within a larger craving for attention, period.  And attention is a lot like potato chips.  The more you consume the more you entitle yourself to go right on consuming.

Thus the illusion of finally having "enough" attention is inevitably destined to shatter and sometimes that process can be quite spectacular in its unpleasantness.  Clinical healing dynamics make tangible allowances for such a process but more personal inter-relationship doesn't generally hold a mutually established blueprint.  And this is where a lot of murky dysfunction finds a place to root itself:  in the metaphor of a baby and bathwater, a great number of people will consciously strive to save the baby without due awareness focused on the fact that this often leaves them floundering in some ultra-grimy bathwater.

I've thought about that particular metaphor a lot over the past two and a half years; consciously striving to remain mindful of bathwater.  The swampier it's appeared the more diligently I've forced myself to deal with it.  And I've been analyzing my character and its inherent nature.  For example - what actual gift of useful value do I offer to those to whom I listen with a stalwart intention to keep on listening come hell or high water.  I've consciously replaced my established question:  how can I develop a longer and more authentically tolerant fuse for such things with:  what am I broadcasting about the gift of listening that needs to be fine-tuned or perhaps outright eliminated?

I definitely know enough about psychology and my own roots-of-origin underpinnings to realize I've held an ongoing degree of responsibility for the fact I often seem to magnetize other peoples' Inner Baby Bird.  I then silently collude with the resultant neediness that may start filling the metaphorical Baby's bathtub waaaaay too fast for effective bailing of bathwater.

Many lists, thought-squeezing/emotionally convoluting journal entries, and conversations with my own preferred confessor/Mama Bird figure later, I arrived at an inescapable awareness that if my conscious mind won't talk to me effectively than the rest of my physical body certainly will.  Having been at that crossroads of understanding before I have also periodically arrived at the understanding that some kind of inner lightbulb really needed to want to change or I was just going to keep looping back around to the same point of awareness with increasingly high personal stakes involved.

My resolve to actively develop a fertile seedbed for such change is what led, most pragmatically, to the life-encompassing time out I've just taken.  I entered the process feeling somewhat jury rigged and held together with tape and old paper clips; my psyche felt like it was supported in a tenuous fashion similar to the hydraulic jack pictured above.  That jack is holding up three stories worth of a rambling living structure.  It's no small measure of insanity to imagine it can go on doing so in an indefinite fashion. Likewise the time had come for me to begin re-building an emotional broadcasting system that's more realistic and hence a lot more authentically humane in the all-around manner.

What I've realized - and not just over the past two months -- this is something I've been thinking, talking, and writing about for upwards of a decade, now - is that the healing community (and this seems especially true in alterna-healing circles) doesn't really honor burn-out as part of a hero's/heroine's journey.  It's seen as a pattern of failure: something to be disavowed in the self and used as some kind of moralistic object lesson when it's perceived in somebody else.  But, more truly, this is just another form of necessary dismemberment at the gates of our collective underworld.  Only an authentic hero/heroine would want to acknowledge that it's happened for them - and, more than likely, repeatedly - and then set about the task of making something sensible and sustaining from the wreckage.

 
I won't claim to have managed such a task at a done-deal level but I have definitely committed myself to maintaining the effort rather than simply hosting a periodic realization that it's work that needs to be done.  Recovering a more authentic self from a period of professional and/or personal burn-out ought to involve more than simply heading back to routes of behavior and intention that inevitably double back to more spent fuses.

I know I'm not the only one working with this particular Chinese puzzle at this time.  Your thoughts and opinions are welcomed either in comments or by way of private mail ...

inside & out

Yesterday I literally woke up in a state of beginner's mind.  It was raining and I found my ears and inner consciousness highly attuned to the atmosphere.  Looking through the window I could see the silver maple branches looming through mist.  The sound of water hitting leaves and grounds has become very familiar here in the northeast.  I am the first to admit that I am not always delighted by it; sometimes I wake up feeling restless for sunlight.

I noticed right away that there was an absence of even a glimmer of that restlessness.  I was glad it was raining.  I felt myself cleansed by it at a psychic and emotional level.   This was like finding a very smooth and super appealing river stone - the kind you have to bend over and retrieve to turn it around in your palm.  You stare as if it's a scrying mirror even if you don't believe in such things.

Later the sun came out and I was even more delighted.   Grabbed my camera to move through the jeweled green and colorful highlights of the garden beds.  It occurred to me that I was remaining utterly willing to stay suspended in the moment.  I wasn't doing anything to be in that place; it's just how I was at the core level.  To my way of thinking this kind of extended trance is always an enormous gift of Self for self as well as the larger environment.

I wasn't planning to share the following life tidbit but, since I think the experience and my reaction to it has so much to do with my state of ongoing zen, I've decided what the hell.  On Tuesday afternoon I was cleaning my kitchen floor.  Right after I started the second rinse I fell.  I hit the floor hard in a fullout belly flop position.  My mind registered the loud and rather sickening smack of my body making contact with the linoleum.  I realized most of weight had landed on my knee (the "bad" one I might add) and that I'd hit my nose pretty hard.

My first fully formed thought was thank god I didn't make floor contact with my mouth.  I might have cracked some teeth.  Then I thought shit.  I said it out loud a couple of times.  That left me free to shake the shock off enough to be practical and start a useful campaign of response. I thought Ice.  Get up off this floor and put some ice on your nose and knee.  As the day progressed into evening I realized I was bruised but not broken.  And, thanks to the ice and how diligently I applied it, I wasn't that bruised, either.

I knew I was going to wake up very sore and, indeed, yesterday was quite slowed down in the physical sense.  Fortunately I was in the middle of reading an excellent novel so that helped me stay quiet and relaxed while my body healed.  This involved wearing glasses more than I usually do so by nightfall the bridge of my nose was pretty damn sore.  Fortunately my knee is doing quite well.  All of me is fine.  And I have had the gratifying experience of re-calling the accident in minute detail for my husband and son.

It's a weird form of satisfaction to take but there's definitely something cleansing about standing on the scene of an accident and going through a play-by-play.  And then I went down, right there.  Look how close I was to the sink!  I could have whacked my head but good on that or the edge of the counter but I didn't!  I do feel extremely lucky about not hitting my head.  And, also, that I fell front-ways rather than backwards.  If I'd done the latter I'm pretty sure I would have wrenched my back and, more than likely, still not able to sit here at my desk this morning.

While I was icing my body I watched a film called Stranded.  It is partially a documentary and also a re-enactment of a South American plane wreck in the early 1970's.  In recent times the survivors traveled to the site of their 72 day ordeal with a film crew and some family members.  This is not a movie for the squeamish or faint of heart but I believe it's an extremely well made film and am quite glad to have seen it.   So many difficult and seemingly 'impossible' subjects were embraced and articulated as an expressive mandala of tremendous significance.

Today I woke up before the rain started.  But now here it is again moving from a soft patter to more serious rhythms.  As I was typing that sentence a female hummingbird approached the window by my desk.  She hovered right above eye level and looked in at me.  This is only the second time I've seen a hummingbird this year. Must be time to change the feeder syrup!

The novel I've been enjoying really was a fully satisfying read.  I learned about it by happening upon a glowing review in The Improper Bostonian while I was waiting for Jim to finish a meeting the weekend we went into town.  I was intrigued enough to list the book in my carry-along all purpose notebook and then request it through inter-library loan.  This is wonderful story of two sisters, culture clashes, unalterable/regrettable choices, and many other things.  Tania James has a sharp and humanistic eye for detail and a profoundly generous heart that's well applied to character development and internalized landscaping.

In recent months I have been collecting a lot of book cover art to keep in my creative source journal.  I am making note of design trends as well as what I like about them.  Sometimes the covers inspire me to play on their themes.  In this case it will be challenging not to mimic what I like in a direct fashion.  Because I've been thinking:  in the atlas of my own 'unknowns' what linear maps of actual places form the backcloth and highlights?  It's a question that's bringing a great deal to mind and so last night I asked my husband - the compulsive map collector - if he had anything on hand that was too worn out to use/obsess over but still whole enough to provide graphic interest.

He told me he'd 'bring the box down' so I could look through it.  I almost clutched at him with excitement.  He has an entire box of such treasures?  I think I sort of knew that without having a clue of how much delighted anticipation I'd feel at the prospect of benefiting from perusal of the cache ...

my old friend charles

Yesterday I spent a very enjoyable hour keeping my own counsel by the banks of the Charles River in Wellesley.  This is a body of water I know best in its Boston-Cambridge incarnation but over time I have come to also appreciate the narrower and less traveled realms.  I sat on the grass and wrote in my journal.  Also took some pictures of a very small area near the place I'd been sitting.

The first three images in this post are water reflections.   This is my favorite form of mirror gazing especially if I'm looking at the landscape rather than myself.   When I stepped back from the river bank and looked into the trees I saw dozens of bright green orbs.  I've seen them before and do believe they are evidence of earth angels and nature spirits.

After gazing at the orbs for several moments I grew overwhelmed with how many I was seeing.  Eventually I had to refocus.  I did this by blinking into the sunlight filtering through the trees.

It was amazing to me that I was the only human in the direct environment.  It wasn't that far from main roads and busy Saturday morning life in progress.  I felt lucky and also embraced in a kind of ectoplasmic bubble of "other" reality.  I kept wondering am I invisible to other people?  Can they see or feel what's going on here?  Wildness in an essentially urban landscape.  It's one of my favorite forms of dualistic realities and I tend to forget that not everyone cares to grasp Our Mother holding the vast array of human invention and construction that's generally far more obvious.

One of the topics that's been recurring lately relates to poison ivy:  the way its growth patterns are changing fairly radically and also the usages of a flower essence made from this plant.

I have not prepared such an essence nor have I ever ingested it.  But I have worked with it environmentally and in land healing activities any number of times.  This is a remedy about POWERFUL boundary-making and maintenance.  It's also a healing ally for any situation that holds a component of strong and potentially toxic forms of intolerance or hypersensitivity.

I know a number of medicine makers who connect poison ivy, and its healing potentiality, with areas of land that wish to remain free of human traffic or development.  Sometimes it's a useful medicine spirit to incorporate for pieces of land that have been previously over-developed and since left to lie fallow.  I have one colleague who is especially fond of applying the essence (along with emerald and chrysocolla elixirs) to the sites of former gas stations and toxic spill areas.

 

Last week I posted about Angelica archangelica.  The post concluded with a warning about Angelica's evil twin, water hemlock.  Here's a picture of water hemlock in flower.  If you enlarge and study the picture you will notice similarities between the two plants as well as differences.  The photograph IS NOT meant to take the place of knowledgeable botanical feedback from somebody who can physically visit any plants you may not be able to positively identify in your personal landscape.

After my time alone with the trees, river, my journal and some respectful meditation beside the two toxic (and thriving/prolific) plants, I was rejoined by my husband.  We proceeded into town and had a wonderful time re-visiting some of our old stomping grounds.  The past two weeks have been something of a nightmare around these parts.  I'll have some serious work ahead of me to get better aligned with business and personal communication efforts. 

TOO MUCH fell by the wayside but none of that could be helped.  Life sometimes moves with speed and force that gives us very little opportunity to set a rhythm or pace that's compatible with our personal guidance systems.  I'm quite hopeful the second half this particular lunar cycle will give the entire family a chance to re-establish something resembling a working zone; yesterday did wonders at the comfort level.  And I am deeply thankful for that ...

the long weekend

Jim and I spent some time with a few of our favorite trees; retracing well-known paths and speaking together of what they mean to us.

I had an important release ceremony to complete.  Having my husband along as a witness meant a great deal to me.  I believe that ceremonial release can have a huge impact on forward movement of various kinds.  In this case the turnaround impact began to form shape almost immediately.

Several weeks ago I realized it was important for me to return a special gift to the place where I had received it.  Sometimes I would think of nothing else for a few days in a row and then, right at a time when I could have followed through, the intention would slip my mind. 

All the life threads and individual fragments of meaning & intention needed to form a whole unit of consciousness.  Maybe that sounds like so much pretentious gobbledygook but, I can assure you, that's not how it felt.  And significant shifts did indeed start to materialize within a single day's passing.

Now, after a mere 72 hours, several personal and professional changes are forming a fresh grid of resolution.  And I am overcome with awareness of the leap of faith & perfect trust that's required in order to get from one point to another.

I don't mean to sound mysterious but all the shapes and puzzles of this new order are not yet aligned enough to present in a series of coherent thoughts/sentences.   Soon enough that will shift and the emergent shapes will be easier to describe.

Stabilizing the mind & body during these type of shifts can be a real challenge.  We all seek to fulfill our dreams and highest purpose.  But we also hesitate at points when we think we know what we want and how we expect our desires to manifest yet everything gets a little crazy and uncontrolled once that manifestation moves from our imagination to something more concrete.

Once our ideas start to take an actualized form beyond the inner landscape even the most common places of our daily world start to look a bit surreal and unfamiliar.

This is the point when we need to breathe deep; to dig deeply into our strengths.  We have to be strong enough to shine a light in the face of our vulnerability.  The two extremes of our individual natures are equally real.  They're both true of every human but the specific details of what that truth has to offer, and what we must offer it in return, can be very different from person to person.

It takes an effort to listen to what we need to tell ourselves in a truly mindful way.  It takes an even greater effort to listen just as carefully to those who are taking the leap with us.  We have to honor our combined fears as well as our bravery.

The more complex a situation appears to be the more we need to embrace simplicity.  We must be practical without losing a connection to our soul's poetry.  We need to give ourselves wings that allow us to stay connected to the most solid ground our instincts and experience can provide.

We need to remember where we come from and where we are going at a heart level.  Then we can actively embrace the moment of NOW where-ever it happens to find us ...

the next wave

Yesterday's garden tour highlighted many new blooms.  The first of the five rhodies has started to bloom.   Now the songbirds who relax in its branches have greater privacy.  It was quite hot on the main garden path but Celeste and I stuck with our routine.  I spent a lot of the time admiring the form and energy of the silver maple tree.

Celeste really seemed to enjoy the scent of the sourwood's flowers.  Late last night she was still sniffing rapturously every time a breeze blew the aroma through the living room.  Jim and I were out for several hours; we arrived home just in time to catch the bottom of the ninth inning and the Mets winning the ballgame.

Back in the bright sunlight of yesterday morning, I discovered the flowering onion was blooming.  For the past few years it has rained heavily during this all-too-brief window of time.  So it's pleasant to have more opportunity to enjoy the compelling geometry of the flower heads.  I took several pictures as this is one of my son's favorites.

Popular folklore credits tiny white flowers to the presence of angels.  It's not uncommon for me to find such gifts waiting someplace in the garden.  This feather was in the center of the main path.

I used to have several species of columbine growing throughout the garden beds.  Many of them have vanished over time.  The plant below remains loyal but every year the flowers have a different coloration.

Late last night, while editing the day's pictures, I was struck by the way the columbine buds resemble a human heart.  Had never seen it quite that way before.

Today it's somewhat cloudy and much cooler.  I'm glad of the latter.  Yesterday's variety of mandatory activities were quite tiring.  Jim has an extra-long weekend away from work and we're both looking forward to slowing the gears.   I'm going to unplug for a couple of days so we can just-be together.  Hope everyone who has a holiday will travel happily and safely ...

garden discoveries

During our various Sunday activities out and about in the larger world, I asked Jim to stop at a greenhouse so I could pick up a couple of herbs that didn't overwinter.   The place we stopped had nothing but very scraggly dill and sad-looking apple mint.  So we extended our travels to go another place.  There I was able to find four of the five things I wanted in plant form.  Also purchased some basil seeds so, in theory, I'm all set for harvesting fresh culinary/tea herbs.

I got curly parsley, pineapple sage, tarragon and lemon verbena.  Had planned to get them planted in pots yesterday but Jim told me there was a possibility of frost.  I thought I wouldn't chance it.  Brought them inside just after dusk and then took them back to the front of the main bed this morning. 

Having just checked the 10 day forecast I am planning to get this stuff planted once I've posted this entry.   Planting herbs is such a beautiful sensory experience.  Maybe you will feel me smiling across the miles.

The sourwood trees are starting to bloom.  The flowers have a scent that falls in the hauntingly sweet category.  In our yard we have two females and one male tree.  The male and one of the females grow together as a pair.  The other female is older by a few years.  She has a matriarchal energy that radiates from the eastern edge of the main garden bed. 

Last year my colony of solomon seal did not emerge.  At the time I was largely incapacited with the spinal injury; I could not move around or stand without tremendous pain and that left Jim on his own for spring cleanup chores.  When I saw how vigorously he had raked the areas where the solomon seal grows, I was pretty sure he'd knocked down all the baby shoots.

Over the following months I talked to the plant's medicine spirit on a regular basis.  I explained the accidental nature of things and asked it to return.  This spring I was thrilled to see two dozen shoots.  I made a point of showing them to Jim and telling him not to do ANY cleanup in that particular area.  Every two days I have taken a documentation photograph of the colonies' growth during this miraculous comeback.    Over time I have collected a lot of Solomon's Seal stories!

The sweet rocket cluster has formed its flowerheads.  At one time the garden was loaded with plants.  This lasted for two seasons - one from deliberate sowing and the next from self-sown volunteers.  Then the plant vanished without a trace for three seasons; upon return it established itself as a single colony that's remained strong ever since.  This one blooms continuously throughout late May, June, and July.

The perennial borage is blooming.  It really seems as if the flower stalks formed over a single night's time.  The vivid electric blue of these blooms is a very powerful visual magnet.  In fact blue is the color our eye registers most strongly in a garden.   It's also somewhat rare among naturalized species.  Many true blue flowers are delicate and finicky.  This is not the case with the perennial borage.  It is a very shameless space hog and prolific enough to be downright maddening.

Have just wandered off from this post so I could change into gardening clothes.  I don't always remember to do that.  So over time more and more of my wardrobe is becoming task-friendly...

!! oriole siting !!

Have avoided burying the lead of today's garden inspection tour by giving it the post header.  I've been hearing orioles for a few days now; hoping they'd nest nearby and really hoping I'd see them.  I would have settled for a sudden startling flash of bright orange somewhere in the trees but today I got much more.  A pair of them flew over the garden with twirling exuberance.  I was sitting in the main path with Celeste at the time.  The birds whirled around and came back to circle above us three times.  It was a magic and deeply satisfying moment to be sure.

Little gooseberries have formed in the guardian bush of the northernmost bed.  I've spent my first stint of today's chore time hand cutting the grass on the sloped lawn between the bed and the street.  I asked Jim not to mow the slope last weekend because there's a sizeable tribe of St. Johnswort among the grass.  Last year that favorite medicine spirit declined to make an appearance.  I was a bit broken hearted though I tried to stay open to what the absence could teach me.

In winter meditations I frequently spoke to the plant.  I asked it to please consider a return and promised to do whatever I could to keep it happy here on the property.   Last week I started noticing its emergence all along the slope.  Once the star-bright yellow flowers bloom I have no doubt I'll feel the labor intensive grass cutting to be well worth my effort.  But it's HOT out there right now; yesterday it rained all day, the wind blew and it was quite chilly.

Sweet Cicely is blooming all along the house foundation just beyond the side of my writing desk.  I have the windows open so I can smell it as it sit here or at my worktable.  Thankfully I am able to sit for much longer periods of time.  One of the biggest advantages to the new thyroid medication relates to a very dramatic reduction in physical pain levels.  On most days the discomfort I feel has been entirely tolerable and that's a huge shift from the last few months.

Many of the pictures for this post were taken as I was sitting in the middle of the path.  Today the cat and I were joined by sulphur butterflies.  There was also an abundance of wild honeybees nectaring among the sweet woodbine flowers and dandelions.   The swamp oaks have finally unfurled their leaves.  The young tree in these pictures has become a favorite part of the main garden bed.

I love the way the swamp oak appears to be reaching out to the larger trees on the other side of the main bed.  It reminds me of a child who is intent to keep pace with the adults.   Sitting on the ground, surrounded by sweet smelling herbs and flowers as well as the comforting presence of the trees, is very good medicine for me.  I consciously focus on "growing" an etheric taproot from my sitting bones.

A primary teacher of matters concerning taproots and their stabilizing principles is the beloved Angelica archangelica.  This is a view of the largest crown in the main bed from a cat's eye perspective.  I stayed in the path quietly soaking in the garden's energy once Celeste had wandered deeper into the green in search of a shaded nap space.  Finally I continued my tour.

The sweet fennel we brought in as a transplant last year has overwintered beautifully.  This is one of the first herbs I learned to love in all phases of its growth back when I first began to keep my own garden in 1981.   Since then there have been three other gardens including this one.  Building and maintaining a space that's permitted its own unique flavor of thriving energy takes work and plenty of it.   But what a co-creative garden gives in return is profoundly restorative and I know of no substitute that's anywhere near as appealing  ...

green whirled

The silver maple tree in our side yard is one of the slowest to get leaves; it's still a bit of a surprise to open the bedroom curtains each morning and see the bright green haze of fresh growth.  The swamp oaks are even slower.  Their leaf buds are still tightly closed.  But the rest of the garden is brimming with life.  In some places, a bit too much life.

The northernmost bed (and, for that matter, the old tomato bed) is crying out for some sustained attention.  I must thin the lady bells and valerian before the overflow chokes on itself.   Today I did not have enough energy for even small increments of working time.   But I did manage to collect some dandelion & celandine flowers to press for a color collection journal I've been keeping.

As I recuperate from an active weekend I am reading a very good novel:  Power by Linda Hogan.  The writing is vivid and compelling.  It's somewhat unusual to find a novel that's equally driven by plot, character and spirituality.  So I consider this one quite a treasure.  I'm going to enjoy it for what it is before delving into research of the tribal situations and corresponding mythology that's described in this story. 

It felt so good to spend some simple be-ing time in the garden at various points in the day.    Currently in bloom:  sweet woodruff, gardenia narcissus, sweet cicely, white lilacs, species tulips, dandelions, celandine, violets and chickweed.  And the poison ivy has re-emerged just as I reached a point of convincing myself it wasn't going to make a comeback...

spring finds us finding spring

All sentient beings around these parts seem much happier now that the heat wave's broken.   Last night I could actively feel the general energy level rising as the temperatures lowered.

Around ten o'clock I announced an intention to run (I meant this literally ...) over to the church yard in order to  hug the beautiful weeping cherry tree that's in full bloom.  I haven't run anywhere in quite awhile.  But I wanted some quality moments with this beloved presence at a time when it felt like just the two of us and an absence of peering curiosity from other people.  The embrace was everything I'd intuited/hoped it would be. 

This morning when I took these pictures I couldn't resist offering my many-limbed friend another hug.  It wasn't as lengthy or unself-conscious but that didn't stop the deep grin from blooming on my face.  The cherry flower/tree vibration is a powerful mood elevator that helps us ground the roots of our own optimism and cheerful aspects.

The enormous azalea bushes that flank our front door are also in full bloom.  They are humming with bumblebees and wild honey bees as well as some noisy little house wrens.

Crabapple blossoms are ready to pop.   Celeste and I had a lovely visit with the pulmonaria that lives beneath this tree. 

And the later spring bulbs are starting their show amid a sea of violets and dandelions.  The latter holds a strongly encouraged presence here in Sparkling Lotus-land...

friends & relations

The weekend's warmth and sunny skies brought a sense of true spring to this area.  Here in Sparkling Lotus-land much time was spent outside regaining more of that all important sparkle.  I've been very content and grateful for the mobility needed to wander in the garden, attend to seasonal errands and simply be a still and relatively steady element of the emergent landscape.

Because of - rather than despite - how beautiful the passing days have been I hardly picked up my camera.  These gorgeously sensuous sunlit moments needed to be experienced at a deep cellular level.  The efforts of documentation in this post were gleaned on Friday evening and earlier this morning.  I find I enjoy time of consciously setting my camera aside just as much as I enjoy unplugging or working, walking and sitting in silence.

In yesterday's golden-toned early evening Jim and I went for a ride in the van.  It was a wonderful way to forge some deeper links with each other here at the peak of what's been a personally consuming and frequently pre-occupying point of time for both of us.  Last night as I prepared for sleep I discovered my mind's eye was filled with flowering trees and and the green haze of warming river water.

Along the distracting byways of my ongoing spring clearing efforts I encountered a ramshackle bundle that holds profound personal significance.  It traveled quite far to reach a temporary resting point in one of my herb cupboards.   My italian friend, Antonella, took it on several pilgrimages and finally sent it to me via my son when I had not been able to meet her at ceremonial grounds in southern Pennsylvania.  The bundle contained blessing herbs used in a land healing ceremony she wished us to repeat together. 

Since then I have held a very specific (and previously intractable) purpose in mind for the bundle's contents.  Time passed.  An opportunity to fulfill my intention did not present itself.  Then it did but by that time I'd forgotten about the bundle until it was too late and the opportunity morphed into different kinds of ceremony. 

When the bundle resurfaced last week I held it for awhile; seeking confirmation that there was still some measure of life force held in the sacred materials it contained.  Shortly after I reached that small still center of authentic contemplation my mind was filled with a thoughtful directive:  don't wait for ideal situations or a special pilgrimage.  Just mix the plant medicines in a bowl and strew it around that guardian tree.

Under different conditions I might have wondered which guardian tree but I also received a very clear image of a specific tree that was waiting for my attention.   Last night my sleeping brain followed that image and I had a wonderful dream about the tree; this morning I attended to the simple no-frills matter of spontaneous ceremony.  I've also had one of my productive mini gardening sessions and am planning to head out for another just as soon as I'm fully rehydrated.

Several of the hardy mainstay herbs  of the main bed have grown enough to begin picking fresh tea materials  This small handful of spearmint has yielded a gently enlivening beverage that's a beautifully fresh color.  Mint Green at its finest.  I love the way so many gentle & easy to grow herbs provide simple teas that are both rejuvenating and soothing...