Daily wakening

sat up
yes
it was time
to sit up.

start the day when you are awake
start the real practice when you awaken
who awakens?
what awakens?

clarity invites more clarity

no one is wrong or right
it is more than that
more complex,
diverse,
great, really.
simple
unconditioned.

the duality rests
you land in the heart again.

everything
will return to its source
he said.
the attraction to do so
is innate,
primordial,
before and after form.

giving thanks

Sometimes I feel I have lost contact with that voice that was rising, 

active in words

Or with that feeling that was rising,

active in color.

I hear other’s voices saying what I am saying

I read passages of wisdom and remember the views I held to be so true.

The expressive nature of the creative has a rhythm.

Rather than doubting its presence,

Now I move with it.

I wake early these days.

I saw the light appear in the dark sky this morning

soon the sun shining on the far mountains, through the trees,

and I was so surprised,

delighted,

to be awake to this day’s beginning.

There are practical things that need to be done

Each move toward them ensures a completion of the task.

I can be practical, too.

I remember walking into a day 

months ago

Feeling the unknown

as formidable. 

Feeling the ever so slight fear of life

And stepping into that day,

Like a doorway it was,

And knowing I had felt courage, too.

There were moments before that, 

Feelings of a shattering of a sort,

The weight of not knowing,

Before it was known as freedom,

of dying while being reborn.

I planted a garden 

And tended it

Slowly at first

Realizing how deeply nourishing that was

To putter in the dirt, to weed,

Just to be there,

Seeing what could be done.

I returned day after day.

the garden grew 

and I tasted freshness again.

I asked myself 

in 2006

…...like yesterday 

it always feels just like yesterday…..

I asked myself

When did being here now begin?

So many fine and awkward movements have spilled me deeper into this life current.

A slight movement 

In any direction

And it’s as if I was always here.

revelation wave

ok, let's ride this wave further
where it takes us is always here
but the way changes.

someone else makes my morning coffee now
he's gotten it right, his way
mine was unpredictable
his way is made for me.

there is no deserving love.
deserving is an impossibility,
a misconception,
a lie.

who could have caused this by doing?
the mirror has simply been cleaned,
and well polished.

just look,
you
revealed
reveling
you are a revelation of love in every form.

we move in her

He sets mouse traps and takes them away if they work.

He brought me a shovel for my garden, long handled with a small sharp blade.

He does our dishes.

Watching him make my morning coffee endears me to his attentiveness and care.

On the shifting scale of a moments vast embrace

We play

in love 

in life 

and in dying.

The air cools as fall arrives.

In my heart was the key 

to see 

it’s here.

I wanted everything.

World without end.

On the shifting scale of a moments vast embrace

We play

in love 

in life 

and in dying.

The air cools as fall arrives.

I tell the truth 

again and again.

even when I can't make sense of what it is,

he listens.

we carry the seeds for everything that is wanted.

she She me you You

beloved Beloved

sister. brother.

precious life.

we move in Her.

the pathless path

awakened by an inner movement

is it morning

or middle of the night?

the Jakob's Weg

the Camino Real

slipped off the map

at the turn of my hip

they slid down my leg

into this silence

beyond words and ways.

this is it

THIS is it 

ALL of it.

living dying loving wondering gardening 

you understand.......

this is it.

all of it.

the fire within has a language of its own

I just spilled over the edge of who I held myself to be,

again.

Now, it doesn’t matter what I think.

again.

I stopped ignoring what I didn’t like to do and realized I had changed,

again.

I was googling me from the inside.

The knife wanted to cut.

I let it feel like cutting.

But I couldn’t cut what I loved any longer

His (this) skin is too thin

His (this) heart too tender

His (this) love too wild and true.

So I put down the knife

and used my hand.

My hands love the body of life

My hands love to support the body of life

My hands love to bring oil to the dry places

And they needed no imagery to do so.

I feel like I just climbed Mount Everest

I am nearly breathless

The air quality here is pure

And I am loosened by the only means I have at my fingertips:

Touch.

I had to get closer 

to feel the touch of myself,

for direct contact with me.

My fingertips and the palm of my hand felt the paint moving with me

Gliding, scratching, slower and more slowly

I listened to the feel of it

this pulse of my life

Living.

Sensual.

Free of the rules I had mistaken for truth

I was listening

and became silent

being the silence

for one pulse.

and another.

Saturated

Red

Permanent rose

Flaming cadmium yellow engulfed a red birch

The black charred trunk remains

Able to hold the glow 

Of the fire that burns in me

Of the fire that moves me out of the old rooms of this house.

All I want to do is follow this thread

It has a language of my own making.

It is in my hands.

who am i?

I’m in the kitchen

Making love

I’m at the keyboard

Making love

I’m a thought

Making love

I’m a mother

Making love

I’m a woman,

A votive candle 

lit daily by the sun.

lost in love

woman
happy to be
painting
woman
happy to be
musing


the brush and knife lay still
the colors find their way
to be seen

as the canvas
as the tall grasses moving in the breeze
sun shined
cooking a birthday celebration
of me and you

Her Feet

my hands touched Her Feet

and my womb

felt the beat 

of the ancient heart, 

the Song of Her Universe.

i don't know what to name this.........

playing in the waves
rolling in the surf
resting on the beach
with salt on our lips.

identity is no longer in crisis

  I love to write (and paint) myself in and out of identity,
  In doing so, I move ever closer to the true nature of the artist,
  of the Feminine Herself.

for giving we receive

in forgiving, I receive.
in wanting more than what is,
I feel empty.

when forgiving occurs
by grace,
I receive.
there are no words for what is received.

I feel the hollow hallowed reed space of this body,
being breathed
into the song of myself.




dear Walt, these last words came naturally out of myself which is also you.

So U Write

Love is the proof
The litmus test.

I didn’t remember its feel.
I looked out there,
Searching to touch it.

According to the map that I carried
nothing matched,
the location couldn’t be found or fixed.

She caught me in her dark embrace
And held me till I could see the light
to trust 
not outside, not wavering
But through and through
From the center point of myself.

All roads lead to and issue from here, now.

a spring dream waking inside me

the ice on the pond has long melted.
there is an ease in my body
despite the cold wind today.

last night i dreamed that the hills were emerald green.

close up and personal

She is here, without a doubt
because I am.
 
This is not blasphemy
nor hubris.
 I couldn't see or feel the way I do
without Her.
 
This is divinity, 
close up and personal,
and real as far as I am.

being human, writing

The gift of writing,
free from control, meaning or product making,
coincided with life getting the upper hand.

I've learned to surrender to the creative process called life
by practicing doing what I love to do
and being as honest as I can be with myself.

There is no way around the surrendering part.

But finding a kind way to open to the unknown
is the reason for the smile on any creative person's face.

Being human is being creative

and being honest

lights the creative fire.

being human, painting

The gift of painting,
free from control, meaning or product making,
coincided with life getting the upper hand.

I've learned to surrender to the creative process called life
by practicing doing what I love to do
and being as honest as I can be with myself.

There is no way around the surrendering part.

But finding a kind way to open to the unknown
is the reason for the smile on any creative person's face.

Being human is being creative

and being honest

lights the creative fire.

Persephone ruft mich zu

Ich gehe unten
und freiwillig.
Nicht im Kellar
Sondern unten den Kellar
Tiefer als den Boden
Bis zum Urquelle.

Dort werde ich meine eigene Stimme
hören können.
Dort werde ich
körperlich
die Stille meines Daseins
errinnern.

Ich suchte ein gemeinsamer Sprache
Und fand keiner ausserhalb den Stille des Herzens.


Frühling ist noch nicht gesprungen.
Ich gehe unten den Schnee um alle ihre Ursprung
umarmen zu können und oben mitzubringen.

Warum nicht?
deswegen ist der Geist der Fantasie uns gegeben.
Das kann ich, weil der Gegend kenne ich gut.

Persephone ruft mich zum Besuch
Um diese ursprungliche FrühlingsEnergie
im Mitte der Erde
In mein eigenem Bauch zu fuhlen.

Sie sagte es so was tolles ist, dass
Ich immer wieder es erleben werden will!

Ja, schnell gehe ich unten in Dunkelheit.
Ich komme wieder mit den Krokus und Tulipen.

my new job

my new job:
wake up
feed the birds
make tea or coffee
ponder
be inspired
don't even try to fit this into words
write
or paint
do whatever comes first.
love being
such a mystery.