Presence - Up and Over the Divides

Quick Pic of the Divide on a Cold, Blustery Day

The present moment is the only time over which we have dominion. Thich Nhat Hanh

Zadie Byrd and I were up and, on the road, early this morning, traversing the Continental Divide at North Cochetopa Pass (10,135 feet), occupied land of the Utes, Cochetopa being the Ute word for ‘pass of the buffalo’. The two-lane road of our route winds through short canyons on either side of the pass, each with distinct characteristics, both beautiful in their distinctness.

As mind wandered in many directions, Muse called me to the present moment, to attending to the drive and to keen awareness of the sense of home I feel in canyon country. Wondering about that, I asked ‘what is it about canyons that is so comforting?’. Immediately I felt the presence of ancestors, life in these mountains across the ages, human life, animal life – I could almost see the buffalo roaming, abundant life with no fences, utility poles, pavement or other modern accoutrements. I sense that I lived in that time and eons before. I felt the infinite nature of life and the reality that everywhere is home.

The felt sense was a gift of the present moment. One only accessible when wandering mind was invited to rest and gems of the moment allowed to rise. The rubble of worry about past and future is just that: rubble. Gemstones are in the awareness of this present moment. So too is attention to the matters of the road, sensing the need to slow down then discovering deer crossing the road around a curve ahead.

The purpose of our trip over and back was for a new veterinarian to examine Zadie’s eye, which has continued to be inflamed. The level of attention and care we received was extraordinary (in contrast to the recent surgery and follow-up), and we returned home back over the divide weary, but pleased and confident that the new approach and protocol has Zadie Byrd on the road to being her bright-eyed self in both eyes once again.

As I settled in with Muse to reflect and write, I’m present to Zadie’s irritation in the left eye, the ‘input’ side of the body. I’ve thought about this throughout this experience, wondering what irritations in me she may be reflecting. What do I need to clean up to support her healing (and my own)? Am I exercising dominion that serves me when I react to the absurdities of elected officials in ways that are perhaps equally absurd? What about when I feel and express annoyance toward another? What am I present to in those moments?

Mind says, ‘surely there is more to say this week …’. Muse says, ‘enough – presence in the moment requires few words or deeds, simply awareness; just BE that’. And so, for now, I BE. Clearer dominion and choices to follow!

Winding Our Way Through Gunnison Canyon

Pivot to Inspirations and Provocations

I call this ‘Painting What You See’ (found image, unknown source)

In the greatest cultures of the ancient world there was a stairway between the human and the divine. The Earth and the cosmos were addressed as "thou," not "it". People felt they participated in a great cosmic mystery of which they were a part. People experienced the divine as imminent in the material world. Nature and the cosmos were ensouled with divine presence. Ceremonies like those performed at Stonehenge ... connected Earth with heaven and strengthened the sense of participation in a divine reality.  Anne Baring

What if I really believed everything is in divine order? Quanita Roberson

Over the past week or so I’ve intentionally put my attention on that which informs, inspires, and provokes me to reflect. I’m not ignoring the multiplicity of crises that we are each a part of. And I’m doing my best not to feed the fear and separation from which our crises arise. Not looking to be distracted or entertained, but rather to be informed and guided more deeply to understand and act in ways that honor Nature, humanity, and the divine.

I wonder how I can live more fully into my instinctive knowing that Nature, humanity, and the divine are not separate. Isn’t that what maturity is? How can I grow up?

The exploration has taken me on several tracks, discovering new (to me) voices profound in their wisdom, reminding me that way back in college days (decades ago!) I wondered what it would be like to become a philosopher. Perhaps that’s a seed now breaking through the soil of my life.

Early this morning as I wandered over the week’s landscape and began to wonder (in truth, I felt quite unclear and a bit worried) where Muse and I would go with today’s post, Muse directed, “just sit down and WRITE!”. Ah, yes, pick up the pen and allow the words to come. To flow. Allow the joy of discovery that rises when I step into the unknown.

For surely, we are in a time when we are called to make peace with the unknown. Befriend her. Perhaps even embrace her with our hint of ‘knowing’ that we are co-creating the story, not observers or victims on the journey. How am I participating in this co-creation?

How will the disparate thought threads from my exploration weave together? Heck, will they?

Something has shifted in my awareness about our language: that so much of it is formed around the masculine. The scales of language today are weighted with the yang energy favored in our culture. Is it any wonder that conflict and war continue to prevail? How can we balance the scales, perhaps even tip them toward yin energy? The feminine? The caring of the Great Mother?

This awareness has me want to be care-filled rather than habitual in choosing the words I write and speak for surely my habits of language were all too often curated by the prevailing energy.

That means slowing down. Discerning what is mine to do, to say. Letting go of all that is not. Perhaps some of the disparate threads don’t belong in this weave. Perhaps they are not mine to weave. Release and trust the wind to carry them where they need to be. They will return if meant to be.

It means that my habits need new curators, mid-wives for birthing new words, new ways, new habits, new stories that we so long for. Perhaps my explorations are indeed a search for impassioned, caring voices of The New to inspire, provoke, and to share when Muse and I settle in to write. Muse nods in agreement, reminding me that the above quotes are from new (to me) sage women each with deep connection to the divine and each taking care in the words they speak. I discovered them listening in to an amazing Humanity Rising panel discussion on feminism and democracy (click here to listen). I’m adding both of them to my curator team.

Likewise it means observing and listening to Zadie Byrd with expanded senses. She seems aligned with this direction, as she indicated to our animal communicator in a session this morning, sharing that she doesn’t care for the energy of the traditional veterinarian who did her eyelid surgery and has been doing the follow-up to clear her eye of what seems to be some sort of infection. “I want to see the ‘herbal vet’,” she said. “I like her energy. It’s freer.” Seems Ms. Byrd is to be on the curator team as well, perhaps as mascot.

Life and learning continue to unfold. Moment to moment we choose where to put our attention and what to paint from where that attention lands. I feel the divine as I grok and aim to live more fully into being part of ‘a great cosmic mystery’.

What if I really believed that everything is in divine order?

Snowy Peaks! Blessed Moisture! Grateful Heart!

Pivot to Re-Ordering Life

Elk Herd in the Neighborhood

The nonviolent person does not seek an impossible compromise with the times, nor a prior, intemperate synthesis for the times. The nonviolent person sees life in terms of a choice toward change, involving a re-ordering of life. Daniel Berrigan

This quote popped into my box (thank you once again Pace e Bene Nonviolence Service for your Daily Inspiration!). It seems apropos for this time of war – yet another war that makes no sense. War has never been the answer. It never will.

I’ve been thinking about borders. How is that we humans are so preoccupied with borders? What in our story of separation has us believe that they are real? On some level we know they are not, but borders and ‘we/they’ have been ingrained in us as important to our identity. What if we reframe our identity to Earthlings? Gaians? Heck, even Humans!

Early this morning Zadie Byrd and I make the 60-mile journey to the vet (her eye irritation hasn’t eased since surgery two weeks ago). We crossed the Rio Grande River at a point that was once the western boundary of the Republic of Texas, reminding me that borders are mutable. Countries come. Countries go. I wonder what quality of life we could create if we gave up the idea of maintaining and expanding borders. Of pivoting from the constraints of borders and defending them to creating community with one another and with Nature.

For surely Nature and the planet do not give one whit about the artificial lines we humans draw on maps and then defend at the cost of unfathomable life, limb, and treasure. Astronauts who have spent time in space speak of a deepened understanding and appreciation that we all share this planet as they look down at ‘home’. How might we take up that perspective?

How might we re-order life around sharing our planet home and its bounty rather than the continuing the historical practice of mine/yours? Win/loose? Bad/good? Haven’t we suffered the trauma of this approach sufficiently to genuinely want to end violence?

How might we re-order life to care for our planet home, shifting the use of our treasure to help her restore from our abuse? What if the trillions of dollars spent on so-called ‘defense’ were re-allocated to support life in all its forms?

While my heart aches for the trauma of all who are in the path of the war in Ukraine, I’m putting my attention not on who will be the victor. For in war, any victory is temporary. Rather I’m asking deeply, how do we re-order life, individually and collectively, to end these cycles of violence? What thinking do I need to shift? What beliefs do I need to challenge? What choices toward change can I make?

If your thinking and sensing is moving in this direction, here are a couple essays that I’ve found helpfully thought-provoking this week:

·        Charles Eisenstein’s The Field of Peace (click here)

·        George Lakey’s article The Dangerous Assumption that Violence Keeps Us Safe (click here)

And, I leave you with these words of wisdom from Thay:  The individual has to wake up to the fact that violence cannot end violence; that only understanding and compassion can neutralize violence, because with the practice of loving speech and compassionate listening we can begin to understand people and help people to remove the wrong perceptions in them, because these wrong perceptions are at the foundation of their anger, their fear, their violence, their hate. —Thich Nhat Hanh

Rocks are different on the west side of the valley …

Gifts of an Unexpected Pivot

Early Morning Fire on a Blustery, Cold Day

What would life be like had my ancestors chosen to live in harmony with the indigenous peoples here? Would we live in greater harmony with Mother Earth? With one another? What a pivot that would be!

When I looked out upon waking this morning my heart sank as the multiple of inches of snow forecast had yielded barely a trace. Mother Earth so needs a thick white blanket. I too would relish a snowy day by the fire.

Muse whispered blog thoughts as I began to stir and go about the morning ritual of building a fire. Rarely a routine, mindless task, I build the fire as sacred action – a blessed way to begin each winter day, literally on my knees as if kneeling in prayer. This brings me to deeply felt gratitude. Appreciation for the trees and the forests, the cycles of life, and all those who had a hand in getting these logs to my door.

As I settled in to write I thought of an African tribe’s practice of keeping a fire burning for generations as an unbroken connection to their ancestors. It is the wife of the tribal chief who carries this sacred responsibility. A feminine role of care connecting past to present and being present to the utilitarian gifts of the fire: warmth and cooking. Simply living. Simply life. Connection with those who have walked before. Connection with Earth. Being present now. Care. Simply living. Simply life.

I say a silent prayer that we so-called civilized humans won’t impose our “civilized” ways on them as has been done so often in history. Muse wonders with me: what would life be like had my ancestors chosen to live in harmony with the indigenous peoples here? Would we live in greater harmony with Mother Earth? With one another? Herstory would weave a different path. Can we truly pivot to live from the feminine? What a pivot that would be!

These are the wonderings that stir in me in this time of turning, of death, of rising new. Crevices of exploration that come when I step off the treadmill of doing, of accomplishing and simply allow myself to be. Muse nods in knowing agreement. These are the swings in my soul’s playground when I allow Muse to push the swing and simply sit and observe Zadie Byrd, sleeping in her ‘cone of courage’, allowing healing. Stillness and gratitude add to my warmth on this cold, blustery morning.

These are the gifts offered up as I break my decades old habit of saying ‘yes’ too often, jumping in to participate in activities that bring me no joy and are not in service to my Becoming.

Muse smiles, happy to observe the dots I’m connecting and, I suspect, impishly wondering how I will live into these choices in the days (weeks, months, years) ahead. I’m curious as well.

That’s where this post was going to end. Draft written, it was time for our morning walk. As I’m preparing to head out, the phone rings. Finally, a return call from our vet, who I’d called a couple days ago when I noticed redness in Zadie Byrd’s eye. I wanted to know if this was normal after surgery.

“No,” said the vet. We should look at it …” Although she said it wasn’t urgent, I sensed that for Zadie’s well-being and my peace of mind, we should go in today, regardless of the winter storm advisories and warning and reports of icy roads.

I fell into a bit of a spin. Mind warning me of the weather and associated risks. Heart saying, ‘go anyway’. After a few breaths and a short walk, the inner knowing rose: All will be fine it affirmed.

And it was just that: ‘fine’. Perhaps our angels cleared the way. Icy road conditions reported earlier had cleared. Two and a half hours and 120 miles under our belts, we are safely home with drops for Zadie’s eye and confirmation that the issue is minor and should clear in just a few days. I had pivoted from the morning plan, Wednesday morning’s blog commitment, to care for my sweet pup.

On the drive home, my thoughts returned to the blog. Muse pointed out that I’d done more than a simply pivot from plan. My early disappointment around the lack of snow held no regard for the hazardous driving conditions that such snow brings. Hey, I’m home by the fire, no problem. But, as I met the need to care for another, my disappointment shifted to gratitude for the clear roads that made our journey safe and easy. Such is the way of an unexpected pivot. What is dark in one moment becomes light in the next. This IS life.

Let Sleeping Dog Heal

Zadie Byrd's Zinger

Sun Setting on a Very Full Day

When we see difficult circumstances as a chance to grow in bravery and wisdom, in patience and kindness, when we become more conscious of being hooked and we don’t escalate it, then our personal distress can connect us with the discomfort and unhappiness of others. What we usually consider a problem becomes a source of empathy. Pema Chodron (daily quote for Pace e Bene Nonviolence Service’s Daily Inspiration for Your Nonviolent Journey – 24 January 2022)

As I began to think about today’s post, Muse, ever wise, sensing my weariness and knowing that my primary focus this day is caring for and keeping my eye on Zadie Byrd who had eye surgery yesterday, gently tapped me on the shoulder and suggested ‘go easy this day. Share Zadie’s lesson, you know, the one where she turned the tables on you …’.

I readily agreed. Her lesson was potent, playful, and caught me just as I started down the road to criticism and judgement. You know, the one I shared last week? (click here if you missed it). Zadie’s Zinger stopped me in my tracks, elongated the choice point of discernment, and ultimately gave me a chuckle. I suspect that Muse was chuckling too – if not in outright guffaw mode.

Out for our walk one rather cold morning this week, I heard, at some distance from us, the unmistakable voice of someone speaking loudly on their cell phone. Ugh! I suspected that meant they were paying no attention to their canine. Then, just as judgement was about to kick in full blown, Zadie Byrd looked at me, and I heard my voice speak, ‘not yours!’, a cue I use with Zadie when she begins to react to something that we don’t need to tend to. In a flash, my well-practiced litany of criticism stopped. Zadie had zinged me at that choice point of discernment where the opportunity for love waits patiently. In doing so, she gave me the opportunity to pivot from my costly litany to a laugh and to love and appreciation, sprinkled with compassion and care for those missing the morning’s beauty and the joy of canine teaching and connection.

After a full day of travel and waiting when we arrived home from the veterinary hospital late yesterday, I just wanted to come inside and unpack all our ‘stuff’ from the trip, but wise Zadie Byrd had a different plan. ‘Let’s catch the last rays of sun before it disappears,’ she seemed to say as she plopped down facing the fading light and resisting my coaxing to come inside. So, I joined her and, after a few moments, realized that I was basking not only in the sun’s healing rays but in the success of the day and in all that love offers when we are open to receive.

I’m truly, truly grateful and feeling very blessed as Zadie Byrd sleeps nearby. And I may just join the chorus of snores soon.

Catching Some Healing Rays!

Life: Opportunity For Love

Heart Rock Love from the Woods Out Back

Through my love for you, I want to express my love for the whole cosmos, the whole of humanity, and all beings. By living with you, I want to learn to love everyone and all species. If I succeed in loving you, I will be able to love everyone and all species on Earth.  . . . This is the real message of love. Thich Nhat Hahn

Muse chuckles and says to let you know that this post isn’t your quick fix guide to romantic love as we approach Valentine’s Day here in the U.S. and many other parts of the world. Though its origin and history are somewhat mysterious, my cynic’s view is that it has become yet another day where the opportunity for sincere ritual has been coopted into a capitalistic ritual of buying and consuming. That said, I can love my Fair Trade, Organic chocolate and appreciate all who contribute to putting on the shelves.

Setting aside the cynic, the day offers an opportunity to look more closely at love as a way of being. A way of being that is the underlying requirement for creating a world that turns its back on the culture’s bias toward separation and fear mongering and puts attention on unity, oneness, the whole of which we are each a part.

We don’t tend to think of love as a process or, perhaps more aptly, a learning curve (steep and never ending). We’ve forgotten that love is our essence. Love in its essence is pure and simple, but today we engage in histrionics and fantasy more than in being true to and allowing life to flow from that essence.

We separate good and bad, winning and losing, right and left, right and wrong, ill and healthy, et cetera forgetting that love is the essence in each, indeed love permeates ALL. You, me, us, them, bad, good, … So, despite being our essence love requires experimentation, learning, practice, commitment: the learning curve of life.

Thinking back on a few prickly events this week, I wonder ‘how might I have engaged differently?’ What would Love have done in that instant of beginning to feel the slightest irritation, a crossroads missed as I hurdled toward the path of loveless reaction?

Love would pause, breathe. Love would look both ways before choosing which road to take. Love would offer a reminder that the road of reaction and judgement is barren of love. Having found myself on that dismal alternate route from time to time (indeed more frequently than I’d like), I know its barrenness, its discomfort, its treachery.

I know too that I can create new crossroads and choose different paths, paths of love. I can replace judgement with loving discernment. I can restore trust, knowing that cancelled appointments and unreturned calls are guideposts to change direction. I can remember that ‘everyone has their story … we are all different, we are all the same’. While trusting a positive outcome, I can relax into curiosity about what will be revealed as Zadie Byrd faces a health challenge.

Reflecting on these little blips stirs deeper questions from which new possibilities can emerge as I/we co-create our world: What if I/we practiced love and allowed life rather than resisting and insisting that life be ‘my/our’ way? What if I/we looked at every interaction, every relationship, indeed everything as an opportunity for love? How beautiful will our world be when we can truly be love and embrace love for ALL?

HEARTY Welcome!

The World Needs Our Light!

Snow! Blessed BE the Snow!

The world needs our light. And so do we!

As I was lighting candles on my altar this snowy morning, a felt sense from deep within washed over me: ‘the world needs our light.’ Whose light? Was this the Muse gently nudging my morning exploration, prompting the focus of today’s post?

I’ve only recently begun to light more than one small candle each morning and to be intentional about my purpose for each. Why do I light this green candle? For the health and well-being of all beings, including the planetary being; sometimes including the healing journey of an individual who has made that request. The yellow? Protection. The white? Purity and love. And, on I went for a few brief moments until seven candles were lit. Hand over heart, I thanked the light. Grateful for the ritual that’s replaced what had become my mindless ’habit’ of lighting a single candle.

Grateful too for the inspirations and insights that come when mindless habit gives way to awareness, to ritual, to intention. Isn’t ‘this’ the light our world longs for with its often-silent tears as well as its not so silent cries? Mindfulness. Awareness. Purposefulness. In each moment. Each smile. Each word. Each movement. Each choice made with clarity, purpose, awareness. And, with love.

I imagine the Muse smiling. I’m certain they get some credit for my shift, although I know that in Muse-land there is none of the ego’s need for scorekeeping. That’s how life is in the unseen world, the other side of the veil where I’m certain the Muse resides (if indeed Muse has ‘residence’ in a ‘place’).

Just before my candle ritual (and after getting a warming fire going in the stove), I’d opened the computer to check the weather forecast since the ‘heavy’ snow of yesterday’s forecast brought only about three inches. I was curious (and hopeful!) – is there more? ‘Yes’ says our local weather tracker.

While getting to the weather site, my eyes landed on an email from a colleague/friend across the pond. Its subject line was the name of an esteemed coaching colleague. Sensing the content, I took a quick look, a look that confirmed his sudden passing earlier this week. A breath taken, I sent a short note to my friend, knowing that it was time for our voices to connect.

Complete with that, I felt a nudge to revisit a poem read several days ago. Following that nudge led me to the prolific poet’s post from yesterday, the day of a new moon. I found it a profound and beautiful reminder that the light of love is always present and that light is to be shared.

At the Dark of the Moon

As you unfold your wet wings,

dear vulnerable one,

the moon rests from our gaze;

she, also, tender,

At the dark of the moon,

the sun still shines

on the side of her we cannot see.

You, too, earthling,

receive the light of love

even when you are blind to it.

Here, take mine,

now when you have what you need.

When it’s someone else’s turn

to swim in the frightening Dark,

you can offer yours,

you can pass it on,

the invisible and real

light of love

from the other side

of the beautiful moon.

---Susa Silvermarie

 Yesterday, February 1, was also the Chinese New Year (fare-the-well Ox. Welcome year of the Tiger!) and Imbolic, the Celtic celebration of Brigid. Each in their unique ways, celebrations of light and of nature. Reminders indeed that, yes, there IS much to celebrate in life. Celebration is light!

On this auspicious day of ‘twos’ – 2-2-2022 – let us double our light wherever we go, we stay, we BE. For we, each of us, you and me, need our light. Not in denial or avoidance of darkness, but to its counterpoint and opening to transforming darkness into light. This day my light will shine with snow shovel in hand … the morning’s three inches have grown to six or more. Big, beautiful flakes continue to fall. Blessed BE the Light and Blessed BE the Snow!

Cordially, Cheerfully Yours from the Snowy Neighborhood …

Invite All of Life In

Sunlight on the New Blanket of Snow

We are in a time of tremendous volatility, not just externally, but for many people internally as well. On a daily basis, it seems, the world is flipping from one timeline to another to another. The future looks dark; I blink my eyes and all is bright. A blue sky fills with clouds in a minute, then they are gone again. Multiple realities coexist on a single planet. Multiple realities coexist in a single person.

… if you have been fluctuating between elation and despair, you are not alone. If despondency colors the breaking dawn, you are not alone. If a single ray of light (like a warm hello) dispels the despondency, you are not alone. If that hope is so fragile that a mere ill glance shatters it, you are not alone. Charles Eisenstein (read the essay here)

I experienced ‘one of those days’ a few days ago. Feeling disconnected, irritable, unhappy despite a soft white blanket that had fallen on Mother Earth the day before. The foggy funk lifted for a brief moment as I watched Zadie Byrd roll joyfully in the snow. As quickly as she hopped up the dark cloud over me returned. Unlike Zadie’s ability to shake the flakes from her furry coat, my efforts to ‘shake’ the cloud weren’t so effective.

And so I allowed ‘it’ to be and allowed myself to be under ‘it’ with whatever curiosity I could muster to discover any message hidden within. I had little energy to focus or ‘do’ anything, despite several projects and tasks idly awaiting my attention. I’d love to say, ‘so I just sat quietly and listened’, but in my humanness, I tried to force some focus, get something done. Oh, how our culture values toughing it out to check some task off of our to-do list.

Failing culture’s strategy for the blahs, I turned to Nature, the labyrinth and a long, slow saunter in the woods out.

This is where my solace lives. The place where my sadness can be, and my tears can flow with abandon.  The place that is receptive, understanding, and listens as no human can. The place that knows, accepts, and allows. The place that dissipates the dark clouds when it is time for them to go.

I think about the clouds that bring moisture to the Earth’s surface just as clouds of sadness allow my cleansing tears to fall.

Cleansed by Nature’s beauty and softness, her receptivity and acceptance, and by the tears that fell as I embraced a beloved grandmother tree, the dark cloud lifted. I am those clouds, the snow and rain, and I am all the tears as well as all the trees.

I remind myself that we are in a time of great change and uncertainty, of vast opportunity, and of an invitation to invite in all of life. The bitter. The sweet. We are invited to remember what our hearts know, and our minds have forgotten: We are all one, each a part of the other. The entire ocean is in the drop. The bitter in the sweet. There is no separation in the reality that is life.

As the Muse and I settled in for this week’s journey, I thought about the plethora of inspiring quotes that have been shared this week in the wake of Thich Nhat Hanh’s passing. Many have landed deep, resonating as wisdom for this time. Responding to a gentle nudge to find a pithy one to share, I discovered a recording of Thay reading his poignant poem, Please Call Me By My True Names. The poem’s final verses resonate as a prayer for all humanity to understand that we are one.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can hear all my cries and my laughter at once,

so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,

so I can wake up,

and so the door of my heart

can be left open,

the door of compassion.

(listen and read it here)

In our sleepy forgetfulness, we cling to the illusion that we can allow some of Life in and keep some of Life out. Alas, we wake and remember that all of Life invites us to open the door of our hearts and invite in ALL of Life. Indeed, may we grant All of Life our gentle embrace.

Beauty Before the Snowfall

What Forms Us?

The Elk - Camerashy, unlike their deer cousins.

We speak a lot about information. What is information, really? It is that which comes in and forms us. Charles Eisenstein

These words stopped me, landing deep within as I read Charles Eisenstein’s recent essay, Wanna Join Me in a News Fast? several days ago. They’ve been with me, beckoning some call from within, the Muse taking note and applauding each time I hit the delete key rather than opening one of the news sources that I frequently scan.

I can’t say for how long I’ll join in fasting from news, but doing so feels like an act of empowerment, of more consciously choosing where to put my attention and focus. What constitutes ‘news’ anyway?

Much so-called ‘information’ seems designed to keep me ‘IN formation’ with what the culture bids, steeped in worry and fear about a cornucopia of concerns. Eisenstein’s suggestion that information is that which comes in and forms us evoked the reminder that ‘that which comes in’ is that which I allow in. I choose. And with that reminder, an awareness to look anew at what I allow to come in, what I invite to form me.

How will my choices shift when I take on the perspective that every click to open an email or follow a link (or open a magazine, a book, a piece of mail or watch a movie or documentary, listen to music, etc.) is an invitation to participate in forming me? The Muse challenges me to examine my choices about what and who is on my ‘invitation list’. ‘Just how selective are you,’ Muse prods, ‘in what you invite in?’ Of course, I like to think that I’m very conscious and selective about such things.

But am I really? How many of my ‘invites’ truly contribute to the wellbeing of my body, my mind, my spirit? To shifting so that I live in greater harmony with my values and with Mother Earth? To my happiness and joy?

Perhaps it’s a good time to go beyond ‘delete this email’ to click the ‘unsubscribe’ button on some sources.

Do my choices invite sources that inspire and provide intelligence for creating a new story for humankind and the planet or evoke deep introspection from which new insights can emerge? Are they aligned with my purpose – planting and nurturing seeds of change?

Or do I all too often simply feed an addiction to be ‘informed’ so that I seem intelligent to myself and others? Or as entertainment?

How much and what kind of information do I really need? Who will I invite to ‘inform’ me on this journey called ‘Life’?

As I write these last words Raven lands in a pine just outside my window, its ‘caw’ a reminder that Nature has much to offer IN forming me when I invite and listen. Likewise Raven offers confirmation that there is magic to be discovered in looking anew at what I choose to form me. I’m reminded of a small elk herd that wandered through the woods a few days ago and of the buck who brought his extended family to the labyrinth after last week’s post. How does the natural environment form and inform me?

Family Member on Her Way to the Labyrinth

Two Bucks and a Raven

A Buck and the Bell

What does Nature say?

A few days back in the early morning the temperature at dawn was only a couple degrees colder than the normal high temperature for that day. As I opened my journal and picked up the pen this was the stream of words that came. “Mild morning – 30 degrees, house chilly, no fire last night – VERY unusual. Fire going now – warming and lovely.”

“I feel Nature’s confusion … ‘tis the season of winter,

And no snow on the ground

Chilly not COLD

Other than an occasional blast (for a day or so)

Then warming with low temps as high as the normal high and

High temps reaching towards records.

My heart feels the inward pull

Of the season – ‘Snuggle in, Rest, Read, Contemplate.

The warmth and sun pull me out.

Like a see-saw, tug-of-war on the playground of Life. DoBeDoBeDoBeDo…

I don’t know how to be in these woods in this season without snow,

The Earth without her white blanket. Is She patiently confused?

What might She know that I do not yet ‘hear’, my untrained senses trying to make sense of the season that doesn’t match my mountain experience?

But is more like the experience from another place, another time this life,

Sea level in Houston or the Llano Estacado in Lubbock – warmer winters.

I break my writing flow to tend the fire. The beauty and warmth of the slow burning logs and multicolored flames draw me in and

I feel a wave of warmth, of depth, of gratitude for all that makes possible my comfort.

Logs added with a full heart, I notice the sky – brilliant orange, red, pink on the horizon and I step outside to the distant sound of Raven – ‘the Magic is Love’ –

Yes, Raven, I remember . These words of your ‘Caw’

Will not be forgot. And I will listen as you speak for other wisdom you may impart.

Flowing in the morning stream is a joy that settles and soothes

Offering a way of Being in the Doing of this day.

I move with gratitude,

Still curious about the confusion that sits in me …

What does Nature say?”

When one asks a question it’s polite to listen to/for the answer. Raven brought this home to me on our morning walk shortly after this journal entry and its ending question: What does Nature say? Raven was raucous, louder than usual and flying about in the treetops and near the ground seeming to want to be heard, not seen.

I noticed. And I didn’t take my observing deeper or connect it to the question I’d posed less than an hour before. Rather rude to ask and not listen. Later, when I finally made the connection, Raven seemed to be sounding a ‘caw’ to heed Nature, to listen with all my senses. Duh! Ask and it is given. But you must be aware and willing to receive. Sometimes it takes a brassy Raven’s ‘caw’ to open me up.

The following afternoon after a lovely walk with Zadie Byrd (who has her own ways of getting my attention and teaching), I headed into the woods out back to walk the labyrinth and commune with the pines. As I approached the labyrinth, a handsome four-point buck was in the outermost circuit grazing seeds fallen from the bird feeder above. I stopped. He looked up and after a few moments looking may way, turned his eyes and his muzzle to the ground, apparently finding the seed more interesting and nourishing than me.

After a few more moments I slowly eased closer, step by step, present to his gentleness and grace. Aware that he was aware of my presence, yet not threatened.  After a bit he began walking slowly toward me through the inner circuits of the labyrinth. My gaze focused on him, his on me; each of us seeming to say, ‘thank you for sharing … we are safe here.’ I let him know that I am listening, and I sense he was conveying a reminder of the importance of increasing my capacity to adapt. Deer thrive in part because of their capacity to adapt to changing conditions. And gentleness is a part of their way.

As if to confirm (or perhaps to see if I was continuing to listen) and to remind me that adapting and change require rest, he returned yesterday with a friend. Just before heading out for a walk, my eyes were drawn to the woods where two bucks were resting, heads up and observant, about 15 yards apart.

This winter the variety of birds in the woods and at my feeder is abundant, each carrying their messages in response to my query.

I’m listening. What does Nature say?

Resting with Awareness in the Woods Out Back