waking up, rising

I wake up
a new day is here
but now what?

ever so slightly
mind steps into this open space
judgement   fear    doubt
how do I make the first move?

I don't.
The first move has already been made
my response is all that is required

be it to make a cup of tea
or coffee
to shower
to greet the sun and morning birds
to taste a dream fragment just a while longer
or to breathe more deeply till the body alights....

so, to be a response to this new year's day
will take me in
to a flow
to choices
and to trust in what chooses.

today the rose petals were dry enough
to fall easily
with a finger's nudge
into a waiting bowl.

their color, once a shocking magenta,
somehow rosier now,
deeper than memory.

I'm offering rose petals to the unknown
another silent gesture
planting seeds in trust.


January 1, 2015

eagle's path

I could be wrong.
How would you prove it, arriving at the edge of my bed with your expectations?

But it feels different from my side.
It feels watchful, this silence.
It feels gentle and trusting........to wait.

I'd rather not worry that I'm wrong to be warm and quiet,
observing quietly my inner spaces,
spaces so deep that images from last night's dreaming remain out of focus, unnecessary, only slightly tasted as an eagle’s path.

If I could put all this into a new form that I could see and know, I would. 
My creative life is changing the form it takes.

quiet under the covers,
feeling reconnection slow and sure.
trusting I'm not wrong.

trust settles in me

so,
the invitation to write has arrived at my fingertips again.
i asked for support and this was what was shown to me.

you might think i've been doing this all along.
i am looking over my blog posts
and see
yes,
i have been writing,
expressing in a particular way that takes form in words.

now,
what if i wrote
with self discipline
as the listener,
as the student,
in cooperation with the voice that wants to express this life?

i'm sensing a yes
a consent,
to write
about this life.

i'm glad to have painted.
the silent speech of color
will show me the way
to write with devotion
to the pauses.

there is pleasure in this work,
that's the key.

as the words take form
i feel the weaving of the whole taking place, right here.
and i feel confidence
(momentarily)
or is it longing
to follow this thread all the way.........

trust settles in me.


tonight the taste of pesto
lingers in my mouth.
and the memory of his voice
passes like music
through my whole body.

breathing, it bears repeating

Life
gifts me with breath.
All I have to do is allow it in.
I have been holding my breath long enough,
afraid of life itself...

blessed fruit

in that place again, 
of not knowing.

the awe I feel to be so near this open space
calls in the guardians 
like bees to flowers.

the more true it is,
the more this fruit is tasted
the more astounded and soft body feels
and oh, so vulnerable.

and the trust
(oh, Uli)
the trust
becomes the path

my feet run
like the gazelle
on the vast plains


what really knows this taste of honeyed fruit?
what ever it is
it will carry this body home.