Being willing to be present in our lives means recognizing everything, including at times our unhappiness, our confusion, our unkindness to ourselves and others. It means being willing to be with this also, be gentle toward this, but also honest. These past few weeks I’ve been on rocky terrain where I begin to fall before I know I took that groundless step. My brother-in-law asked me how I was doing the other day and I said, “I’ve been immaturing.” Sometimes this is how it is. It is a myth that life always moves forward. At times it moves backwards. When it does there is a chance for reintegrating parts of ourselves we may have left behind. Sometimes during these periods we have to do a lot of apologizing to ourselves and others.
Bird Song
I am waking up earlier these days to the sound of the dawn chorus of birds out the window. I’m filled up by this sound. In the morning and all day when I can turn my attention to the birds, and open up to receive their music, I feel new parts of my being filled with nourishment.
Taking Care
I’ve been reading the book, Taking Care: Thoughts on Storytelling and Belief by William Kittredge. The book found me at just the right moment and I want to share a quote:
Translucent lime green leaves emerged from the heart-shaped buds on the Lombardy poplar in front of our house and cast their tiny flitting shadows over my mother’s face. Seedlings oats and barley emerged in undulating drill rows across dark peat soil of swamplands broken out into plowgrounds. The lilac would soon bloom. That child had no intimation that those spring mornings would stand in memory as his approximation of perfection; his family, his life before him, the world in renewal.
The Garden
The peas are growing taller and the ground is cracking with lack of rain. I’m releasing my projection of evil attributes onto the weeds and ants I don’t want. And instead I’m working with them, getting to know them—yes, cutting and killing them, but without a sense of righteousness (at least most of the time).
Since the garden is still full of seedlings not ready to eat, for now the dirt is feeding me.
What is feeding you?
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Jasmine, I have been focusing on, and feasting on, birdsong these past weeks also, particularly this weekend. I see, hear, their music as assurance that “the universe” is constantly communicating. We, including birds, are never disconnected from our source. I was amazed how consistent the bird chatter is, almost to the point of relentless, once i was tuned in to it. How could i have been so oblivious for so long? There is so much beauty surrounding us all the time, everywhere.
No sprouts yet……
my best,
Marlene
Ahhh…that is beautiful. I’m glad the birds are there inside you also. I finally planted my calendula this evening in the hopes that rain will come tonight. We haven’t had rain for days. It doesn’t seem to stop the birds from singing.