angelbirdflies

what do you do when you're feeling depressed?

2012-02-18T13:48:00.003-07:00

A friend recently asked me what I did when I was depressed. I wasn't sure, I couldn't actually remember. Did I binge eat on ricecakes? or gluten free sweets? No. I ventured that perhaps I ate an excess of raw nuts and moped. That was true.
Today I had the chance to remember when I felt the weight of sadness drop like a low laying cloud and my heart began cramping with sorrow. I did mope for some time. I tried watching TV. Nope, that certainly did not satisfy. I sat, like Macbeth, on my meditation cushion but peace was not forthcoming. I ate a few ricecakes and just felt worse. I was eyeing the nuts when I looked down at my dog and said, "Let's go for a walk". I wrapped up in scarves, donned my parka, sunglasses and hat, pulled on my boots, grabbed a leash and we tromped up the back yard into the arms of green mountain.

We trudged through snow and mud, over cactus and yellowed grasses. I began to breathe.

Once we crested a few hills we ventured off the trail until we found a dry spot with southern exposure. On the face of the hill opposite, eleven deer grazed peacefully, only turning toward us, ears erect and listening when Maya made a particularly jubilant leap through the snow. I lay down on my back and felt the warmth of the sun on my face and the solid earth beneath me. I nuzzled into the soil, smelling its rich undertones and soon fell fast asleep, while Maya stood guard, her back pressed into mine. I don't know how much time past, thirty minutes? an hour? But when I awoke all was well with the world again.

I suppose this IS what I do when I'm depressed. When all the world feels too daunting and my little life looms large and unwieldy. It is my version of "considering the lilies" and while I am there I feel deeply part of something and not isolated or separate. Like the grasses, stones, flowers, shrubs, deer and snow, I am life expressing itself and if the grasses don't need to worry about the morrow and what they shall eat or wherewithal they shall be clothed, need I?

2012-02-17T13:57:00.000-07:00

If you haven't had the pleasure of visiting my boys cooking blog, do! it is fantastic.

peripatetic

2012-02-12T07:50:00.002-07:00

Okay, I just found a new word and fell in love. I often fall in love with new words, particularly ones that describe something I have struggled to frame into concept for years. The word is peripatetic. It means:

Adjective:

Traveling from place to place, esp. working or based in various places for relatively short periods.

Noun:

A person who travels from place to place.

Hello!!!! I have been calling myself a gypsy for years trying to describe the feeling of restlessness that gnaws at the edges of things. It comes like a breeze, changing directions and suddenly I need new scenery like I need water and food and shelter. I fight this part of myself, trying to forge roots and content myself with sameness. My younger brother, who is certainly a peripatetic, used to tell me that people are sailors or farmers. Farmers plant their roots deep and grow where they are planted, where as sailors always long for the next horizon. Sailor, gypsy, peripatetic. The winds are blowing and I keep looking for anchor.

2012-02-03T08:09:00.001-07:00

I stare outside the window at the mountain beyond the house. I listen to its wildness, here amidst the city, a refuge reminder of the feral and wild. I am surprised by my heart in such contemplations, leaning as it does toward the gentle slopes with the ardent desire of a lover. Though I am cloaked in sweaters, shawls and shearling boots within the walls of a heat controlled environment, I find myself longing for the un-tame expanse with a tangible ache. Recently, I considered my ever changing reflection in the mirror and listened to the voices of our collective expectations focused on uniformity, enamored with youth and beauty. I listened and realized with a start that the bloom of youth has passed. I am spring no more, nor early summer. I stood contemplating this and listening to the tinny voices of our culture, implanted in my earliest ear and I laughed. I laughed at the sameness and all it implied. I laughed at the wrinkles and I laughed at the effort. I laughed at the longing and the expectations. I laughed and something within me stirred, wild, like my mountain amidst the city. Untame and untamable. Suddenly it didn't matter. None of it. Home and safety, romance and desire, success or failure. None of it matters. The wind blows. The snow falls. Life simply is.

2012-02-03T07:11:00.001-07:00

The snow has come at last, after a dry winter and a bi-polar thermometer. A snow day. A gift.

2012-01-31T18:18:00.002-07:00

If asked what my most pleasant memories of youth had in common, I would answer without hesitation ... NATURE! In a world that seems more in need of human connection to the natural world than ever, it is my hope to inspire a measure of awe and wonder in the vastness of the world we inhabit, unplugged and uncensored, in the hearts of my boys.

With this in mind, Bodhi and I went scat hunting. A favorite game of my mom's and now one of my personal fav's. Bodhi only gagged a few times but was thoroughly interested and enthused.

We also spotted some tracks we thought might belong to a fox (we have a pair living nearby).

And we had ample opportunity to enjoy the simple pleasures of togetherness

in the wide outdoors.

Get outside, look for shit and marvel when you find it! Now that's a code for living!

2012-01-22T14:38:00.002-07:00

Where have I been all this time? Well one week has past since the boys and I moved into the new house. We will be house sitting here until mid-june. It is a positively lovely three story home AND of course, the move and events leading up to it, consumed much of my emotional energy. We are settling in and getting used to our new surroundings. The best part of the new location is the backyard. It literally backs up to my favorite hiking spot near denver, Green Mountain. It has long been my sanctuary (as this blog will attest with its many photographic tributes over the years). Owen is pictured above, overlooking Denver just a hundred yards from the house.

And this IS the back yard.

It is a great place to heal for a while and mend an aching heart. The boys are slowly making room in their worlds for this change. It is hard on them. Bodhi is chewing again and longing for the lost comfort of the pacifier of years gone by, while Owen cries often.
Speaking of healing...here is a photo of how we spent our Sunday morning. Bodhi cut his head badly playing with Owen and his uncle Dave, so 2 hours in Urgent Care and 3 staples later we are home again enjoying a couple of playdates (a friend for Bodhi and one for Owen) and some family time on the horizon, with just my own two.

If you are reading this and want to pause for awhile to extend some love in our direction, I am sure it will be felt and appreciated. I am sending it to all of you as I write.

had to share this from a new application

2012-01-08T14:53:00.002-07:00

2012-01-07T08:00:00.003-07:00

I enjoyed this reminder, maybe you will too:

Many people don't realize until they are on their deathbed and everything external falls away that no thing ever had anything to do with who they are. In the proximity of death, the whole concept of ownership stands revealed as ultimately meaningless.

In the last moments of their life, they then also realize that while they were looking throughout their lives for a more complete sense of self, what they were really looking for, their Being, had actually always already been there, but had been largely obscured by their identification with things, which ultimately means identification with their mind.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit," Jesus said, "for theirs will be the kingdom of heaven. ''What does "poor in spirit" mean? No inner baggage, no identifications. Not with things, nor with any mental concepts that have a sense of self in them.

And what is the "kingdom of heaven"? The simple but profound joy of Being that is there when you let go of identifications and so become "poor in spirit."

~ From: A New Earth, by Eckhart Tolle

In-lighter-ment

2012-01-06T19:39:00.002-07:00

For much of my life I have longed for some conceptual utopia of spirit, out of reach and made unattainable by my constant seeking, which some have called enlightenment, the big "E". Pondering this, I found myself rebelling against the futility of reaching toward something outside the immediacy of this moment. In the spirit of revolt, I decided to embrace the notion of in-lighter-ment instead.

Enlightenment (as a loaded term and not the experience it points to), seems to signify a destination and a "getting there". It is akin to winning the ultimate spiritual lottery. In keeping with this analogy, I have never felt confident that I was going to win the powerball, it being wholly outside the sphere of my own effort, not to mention the glaring problem that I don't buy a ticket. Enlightenment seemed to separate the spiritual populace into the "haves" and "have-nots".

So I coined a new term, limited, as all terms are, by the conceptual implications of the language that houses them, but it is the best I have in the moment. "Inlighterment", the big "I"... "lighter" merely points to "a bit brighter" and so "inlighterment" is a state of "lighter" instead of "lightened", brighter instead of brightened. It's a process instead of a destination. Its like a savings plan rather than a crap shoot. I can attain "a bit brighter" right now. I can shine a bit more, perhaps microscopically, day by day, moment by moment, breath by breath. And if I black hole into humanness, so what? I can choose again and again. I can breathe. I can listen deeply. I can be and in being, choose to let go of a little more fear than yesterday and shine a bit lighter, one choice at a time.

May all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness

May all beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering

May all beings never be parted from freedom's true joy

May all beings dwell in equanimity free from attachment and aversion.

May all beings experience in-lighter-ment.

my boys

2012-01-02T20:04:00.001-07:00

Here they are: thing one and thing two.

Thing one: Owen is busy growing and looking cool, going to school, pushing against mom and learning how to be the man he will become, in his own Owen-like way. He is such a deep swimming boy. He often startles me with his insight and clarity.

Thing two: Bodhi is midway through his last year at Children's Garden Montessori School, where I teach. I have grown accustomed to having him with me every day. I have watched him grow and learn and develop in a way that many working mamas simply can't do. I am grateful for this gift daily and the gift of being mother to two amazing and breathtaking boys.

art

2011-12-29T20:35:00.002-07:00

I have finally submitted a few of my pieces to a very small art show in Denver at a center for women called Pomegranate Place. Here are four of them. I submitted eight. The paper pieces are heavily worked, mixed media measuring 24-36.

The mixed media encaustics are 36 x 36

and 24 x 24.

I have to put a price on them. Which isn't easy for me, since all are born and kin to my heart. I rarely exhibit my work, choosing instead to cherish and hide them like so many precious aspects of my soul too vulnerable to risk censure. I choose instead to shine and step out from the shadows of hiding and express my belief in the inherent beauty of creating.

2011-12-29T15:55:00.000-07:00

My brother is back and his lady love, Pilar, too. It is great visiting with family particularly basking in their familiar insanity.

I think this is "hear no evil, see no evil, but I can't be sure.

Bodhi is five

2011-12-29T15:52:00.003-07:00

We had a big snow recently and Bodhi wanted to go outside. I told him to get his snow stuff on and frolic at will. This is what happened...It is below freezing at 8 in the morning...how's that for charting your own course.

Here he is begging for something.

and just look at that angelic face!

Here he is globe trotting during his Montessori birthday celebration

and rapturous at the sight of another great gift.

We spent a great day after Christmas, celebrating Bodhi's birth with a birthday party at the Museum of Nature and Science and

whenever boredom sets in with the short days and cold weather Bodhi livens things up. Here he is streaking in the neighboring yard at forty degrees.
Gotta love this kid!!!

Coraggio

2011-12-19T20:02:00.003-07:00

When everything looks bleak and the darkness cramps against the cold, it takes courage to simply look out from imagined isolation toward the wide horizon of beauty available in every moment. It takes courage to lean into the sea of life and trust the tide. When weary limbs no longer support us, it takes courage to trust our inner buoyancy and float. It takes courage, in the face of darkness, to remember the light and sit in all our apparent blindness and listen, silently, to the still, small whisper within. It takes courage, in that dark hour, when nothing else remains. Eyes closed. Eyes opened. A glimpse, a memory, a fleeting vision of a light so bright it blurs the borders of things seen and things perceived into a comprehensive wholeness of being. It takes courage.

2011-12-18T08:44:00.000-07:00

When the Bodhidharma was asked to describe enlightenment, he said simply,
"Space everywhere, nothing holy".

2011-11-25T18:35:00.000-07:00

"The sage points at the moon. The idiot see's only the finger."
---Eastern Saying

2011-11-24T08:05:00.000-07:00

Gratitude Day. Harvest Celebrations. Thanksgiving.
Let's eat our gratitude. May that be our food. Eat our thankfulness, chew it, swallow and eat some more until we are bursting with blessings, belching joy from a belly round with laughter.

2011-11-13T16:07:00.001-07:00

How cute is this for a perfect fall photo op. These frisky fellows were enjoying a jack-o-lantern feast on our patio, while the boys enjoyed pumpkin pie at the kitchen table. It is always fun to see something planted and full of hope in the spring become a meal for family and furry friends in the fall.
Happy autumn to each of you!

2011-11-11T08:32:00.002-07:00

I don't kill spiders. It's not from a strict adherence to non-violence. I kill mosquitos and the occasional gnat or centipede, I eat fish and other fleshy creatures (though it is rare and sadly with a burden of guilt, which is a gustatory downer). I just don't kill spiders. I talk to them. If they are dangerous, they go outside, otherwise we live side by side in companionable tolerance. They walk across the floor, the tub, the counter, leisurely and with an air of belonging. Today I saw one scurry, eight legs literally racing across the kitchen rug over the cool spanish tiles, speeding toward a dark space beneath Bodhi's wooden step stool. It was such a strange occurrence after years of spiders creeping from place to place. This spider looked scared, though no doubt I am anthropomorphosizing. I stood for some time wondering how often I feel like that spider looked, imagining the world I inhabit dangerous, frightening and ominous. How often do I hurry pell mell from one protected corner to the next, all the while inhabiting a benevolent universe, without a giant, fearful foot eager to squash me. What would it be like to cease hurry, breathe and just inhabit. There is a web unique to me, each thread new. I carry my home and purpose with me, where ever I go. We all do.

grande

2011-11-09T18:27:00.002-07:00

My life feels grey, heavy, frightening...like there is a storm just about to break, a smell of ozone, impending darkness and I am uncertain of shelter. I find myself on the point of tears often. I don't know if it is because my Grandmother is gone or because the sharp reality of mortal existence has finally dawned on me. Tears roll, salty, down cheeks, blurring my vision and the world I see. Suddenly my willingness to accept the monotony of half living, silent suffering mediocrity and deeply buried truths, seems harder to bear. I, like a sodden dog heavily water logged with doubt, fear, thought and belief, want only the freeing sensation of a good shake- sending rivulets in all directions, until I am light again.
I miss her. My grandma. I miss the world she represents- warm naps in kind arms, dinners lovingly prepared without thought for what is "healthy", laughter, childhood and an unconditional love that beams from behind spectacles inches thick and bordered by grime and plastic.
I don't feel prepared for this world we live in. I never really have. I just keep moving forward one step at a time, with an eye on the horizon, watching for signs of rain.

a story recently shared by a friend

2011-11-05T14:38:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love.

Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment.

When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help.

Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said,
"Richness, can you take me with you?"
Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you."

Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!"
"I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered.

Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you."
"Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself!"

Happiness passed by Love, too, but she was so happy that she did not even hear when Love called her.

Suddenly, there was a voice, "Come, Love, I will take you." It was an elder. So blessed and overjoyed, Love even forgot to ask the elder where they were going. When they arrived at dry land, the elder went her own way. Realizing how much was owed the elder,

Love asked Knowledge, another elder, "Who Helped me?"
"It was Time," Knowledge answered.
"Time?" asked Love. "But why did Time help me?"
Knowledge smiled with deep wisdom and answered, "Because only Time is capable of understanding how valuable Love is."

---
I have to leave this one uncredited, as I don't know the author or if it is simply one of those stories so long in the oral tradition it needs no crediting.

2011-11-01T20:29:00.002-06:00

"There is no difference between the dream and the waking states except that the dream is short and the waking long. Both are the result of the mind. Our real state, called turiya (fourth), is beyond the waking, dream and sleep states."
---Ramana Maharshi

2011-11-01T19:48:00.000-06:00

"There is only one decision you need to make: You are either working at your Freedom or you are accepting your bondage."
---Robert Adams

Autumn

2011-10-31T21:13:00.000-06:00

A fall frenzy, with a bevy of color and the crunch of leaves underfoot, has all of us feasting on beauty.

Owen planned an elaborate autumn celebration with a tribute alter to Demeter and some other Greek God whose name escapes me. We made an abundant meal of all our harvested produce as the seasons bounty is no longer growing in the beds outside.

We enjoyed a trip to the park, looking and listening, smelling and feeling the warmth of autumns farewell with the gentle whisper of winter's cold on the wind.

When my whole world is falling apart around me, I look at these two beautiful people and everything feels perfect, beautiful and whole.

Happy fall my friends and family...with big LOVE.

Bodhi the photographer

2011-10-31T21:05:00.000-06:00

All the pictures in this post were taken by Bodhi the budding photographer...

2011-10-31T21:00:00.000-06:00

A photo walk thru my recent trip to Arizona, saying Hello to my family and farewell to my Grande'.

At Garchen's Institute in Chino Valley.

I do miss the Arizona landscape and all my familiar hikes and haunts.

May we each be a light unto the world.

Farewell my beloved Grande.

2011-10-17T14:40:00.001-06:00

If any of you wonder what I do when I am not leisurely staring off into the middle distance...well here it is... at least one of the things I do at least 40 hours per week is work as a studio art coordinator with young children. If you are interested in a peek please look at my studio blog. I am leaving in a few hours for Arizona to see my family and gather to celebrate the life of my beautiful Grande' Cia. So I won't be posting for a little while.

(Did I mention that I am blessed with the ability to work with my Bodhi. It his last year at our school and bittersweet in many ways).

2011-10-16T21:13:00.002-06:00

Farewell my Grande' Cia. May you dance with the angels, sing with the stars and shine that joyous spirit of yours to light the way for those of us left behind. I love you forever and always, my sweet beloved grandma, friend and cold footed, laughter box.

Te' amo multo.

inspiration

2011-10-16T08:06:00.005-06:00

I recently ran across this amazing artist and I thought I would share a little inspiration with all of you.

Art sometimes reaches inside each of us, artist and witness, and pulls something great to the surface...something that transcends our limited cognitive categories and challenges us to meet a broader experience.

grande

2011-10-15T19:14:00.000-06:00

Te Amo Grande Cia! Te Amo.

2011-10-15T10:48:00.000-06:00

Autumn's colorful dance has begun and I sway to the rhythm of her majesty, a final farewell before a long cool sleep. As I look at the vibrant display, I wonder how many of us have hidden brilliance just beneath the surface, waiting to explode.

a new raku kiln and my sweet brother Danny visits

2011-10-15T10:43:00.001-06:00

2011-10-15T10:28:00.003-06:00

Blossom. Bloom. Flower. Fruit. Seed. Sleep. Sprout. Leaf. Bud. Blossom.
Consider the lilies (or chrysanthemums) they toil not, neither do they sow and yet Solomon, in all his glory, was not arrayed as one of these.
Consider this.

survival

2011-09-26T19:27:00.002-06:00

Survival.
What is that?
Food, water, shelter.
The sum total of a life?
Its entirety?
If so, what is this longing?
This ache?
This yearning?

I am fed.
I have drink.
I have shelter.
Still I hunger.
"I have meat ye know not of."
My heart is growling.
Hungry to thrive.

the truth of who you are

2011-09-19T18:57:00.001-06:00

The truth of who you are is untouched by any 'concept' of who you are, whether ignorant or enlightened, worthless or grand.

The truth of who you are is free of it all.

You are already free, and all that blocks your realization of that freedom is your attachment to some thought of who you are.

This thought doesn't keep you from being the truth of who you are. You already are that. It separates you from the 'realization' of who you are.

~ Gangaji, from: The Diamond in Your Pocket

weekend whirl

2011-09-18T17:27:00.008-06:00

So this weekend began with a solo trip to the Firefly Gypsy Caravan Craft Faire in Boulder. It was a fabulous array of local artisans and a feast for the senses.

I purchased a lovely hairband from this local artist, similar to the ones pictured atop the crate but in warm, autumn tones.

My friend Jaala Sheldon creates fanciful upcycled jewelry from recycled vintage jewelry and she brought her wonderful airstream caravan decked out in the gypsy regalia pictured below.

Next, I trekked into the foothills above Boulder.

When I returned I set the boys loose on proverbial windmills. I don't want to horrify my pacifist friends (as I myself am among them) but I have six brothers and I love boys. So I bring home boxes and they take their metal swords (I purchased both of them at the Renaissance Faire- a long sword for Owen and Bodhi inherited Owen's old dagger) and they tilt at imagined foes for long peaceful mama-lounging moments.

Now Cain and Abel are in separate rooms, while I contemplate hard alcohol or at the very least a mind numbing movie (no doubt PG but in my fantasy it is a Jane Austen-esque film with the addition of steamy love scenes uninterrupted by irritating minions.) A weekend well spent.

roar

2011-09-15T19:47:00.004-06:00

I haven't written anything personal for some time. It is not for want of deep diving into the well of living, rather it is from a constant water-treading in emotional exhaustion. Sometimes the weight of human expectation and belief (my own at the forefront) weighs me down with lead-like determination and I find myself afraid of the next breath...the next "not knowing", afraid that tomorrow will inevitably find itself echoing the sharp notes of today. These are the dark nights. I surface for a long deep breath, drawn unhurriedly in a clear near-autumn eve, and ask, "What if we can't f*#k it up?". What if life just is and there isn't a right way or a wrong way except our thinking makes it so. What if it...all of it...isn't such a big deal. Would the stars still turn round the heavens if I tumbled ass over teakettle into my own stupidity. Would autumn still give way to winter. Of course it would. What if I stood up, tall, and stretched from my long crouching, took a deep breath and bellowed deep from the bottom of my belly. What if I roared. Would the sky shudder.

a recent rumi reminder from my big brother

2011-09-11T16:53:00.000-06:00

"Submit to a daily practice.

Your loyalty to that

is a ring on the door.

Keep knocking, and the joy inside

will eventually open a window

and look out to see who's there."

~Rumi

sunrise

2011-08-28T10:09:00.001-06:00

Here is an early morning chronicle of the sunrise from a recent predawn hike.

Anderson Ranch

2011-08-28T09:59:00.002-06:00

Okay, here is the much anticipated post from my recent adventure at Anderson Ranch in Snowmass, CO. Honestly, I don't have words sufficient to fully credit the experience. It was a bit like turning inside out and finding yourself whole again. I grew so much and am now painfully filled with a longing to make art...NOW. Not my usual crafts, but PAINTING and creating and listening and beholding.
The photo below is an exterior shot of our studio.

And this fabulous woman is Judy Glantzman, our fearless, fabulous and utterly inspiring, leader!

Here is the gang after a luncheon hike atop a bizarre yin/yang slab at the summit.

And here we are again. It was so refreshing to discover myself as a woman again...not a mom, a teacher, a mate, a daughter, a friend...just as me and the real treat was that I loved her.

One of the other attractions, was the simplicity of NOT having to cook. Not for myself or for anyone else. I was shocked by the relief this provided and how quickly I adapted to the luxury.

But perhaps the best thing was ART and my opportunity to make some. Here are some of my creations at the final critique.

All in all, this was one of the greatest gifts of my life...thank you to Ron, Joanne and Shane for thinking of me and my deepest needs. And another thank you to Annaday for her generous donation of supplies and a wonderful night spent in her home before the retreat. Thank you!

2011-08-28T09:44:00.001-06:00

A final floral foray of summer. I honestly had no idea how much I adored the beauty of flowers until I received the gift of my camera. The simple majesty of each bloom, a breath in eternity, captures my lens every time I am out.

2011-08-25T16:25:00.000-06:00

Okay, I am home and at least three times larger in spirit than I was pre-departure. The demands of work began immediately so I have yet to post anything about the adventure, so rather than leave my "devoted" readership on pins and needles, I thought I would post a nonsensical rambling about nothing, doodle bark on a balmy night and such.

2011-08-14T17:26:00.000-06:00

I am at Anderson Ranch for a week and will be riding incognito for a while. I am amassing photos with wild abandon, looking forward to sharing them upon my gestational return.
All Love!

a summer retrospective

2011-08-10T20:40:00.000-06:00

2011-08-10T20:22:00.005-06:00

[I]t has been said many times that only the people who don't know who they are, are the ones who are awake. Everyone else knows who he or she is. They are their script, whatever their script is, even if that script is, "I'm not awake."

Awakeness is to have no script, to know that ultimately a script is just a script, and a story is just a story.

~ From: Emptiness Dancing, by Adyashanti

pool day

2011-08-09T20:14:00.000-06:00

Enjoying the final days of summer vacation with a pool day surrounded by friends! Owen quickly attached himself to a water weapon and proceeded to douse me with gleeful, dolphin-like abandon.

Bodhi has learned to swim this summer and is truly a fish...a huge source of pride for his ocean loving mama!

long lake

2011-08-09T14:01:00.002-06:00

My favorite way to spend a Sunday is in the woods. After some debacle trying to locate a suitable spot, we settled on Long Lake above Brainard Lake near Ward, CO.

We packed in water, blankets, books and lunch for a four mile adventure through natures playground.

Here are a few of the breath gulping vistas we encountered along the way:

And where else can you have a snow ball fight in August?

We found a gorgeous peninsula near the lake and settled in for a few hours of picnicking, reading and ogling the splendor.

Bodhi decided to catch a fish with his "bare hands!!", alas he was unsuccessful but that didn't stop him from playing in icy snowmelt water for thirty minutes.

The boys did famously and didn't begin crying, moaning and complaining until after the three mile mark.

Another perfect day in paradise.

2011-08-09T13:37:00.003-06:00

Cain and Abel are reunited and the land of Nod is looking a little war torn. Sibling rivalry is a fabulous contraceptive...a built in protection against overpopulation. Never the less, I love them both immensely and it is marvelous seeing the eldest after ten weeks. I took the boys to Golden on Saturday and we discovered a fabulous new frozen yogurt shop operated by a beautiful woman from Turkey. The shop is called Goozell.

Bodhi sampled the chocolate and strawberry, heavily topped with oreo crumbles, rainbow sprinkles and gummy worms.

Owen tried the cake batter (huh?) flavor mixed with chocolate and lots of cookie crumbles.

It was a fun day particularly when the boys weren't battling, moping and griping and tolerable when they were.

2011-08-06T19:33:00.002-06:00

Summer vacation is about to run square into the start of school. Owen is home. The house is in chaos as all its members try to make room for the changes. I find myself lamenting the silence and clinging to each passing day with unseemly vigor. It is easy to breathe in and rest back when the waters are smooth. It is another practice all together to continue relaxing when the waters of life become turbulent and rapid. The mind seeks to brace and evade, to control and anticipate. The body reacts with tension, prepared for what...the next rock, rapid, waterfall? Relinquishing its best defense...buoyancy.
Breathe in, breathe out, little droplet.

2011-07-25T19:35:00.001-06:00

Where were we this weekend? We were camping near Sylvan Lake, at a fabulous site in the National Forest that seemed like a million miles away from the busy human world. Each night we were serenaded to sleep by the silent sound of a starry sky circling overhead.

For breakfast we enjoyed our favorite gustatory delight, yogurt with fresh fruit and granola.

Morning and evening Shane brewed us hot Rooibus tea, spike with vanilla almond milk and served piping hot beside a fire.

Bodhi invented a new smores...burnt marshmallows and saltine crackers....mmmmYUCK.

At the visitor's center we watched the playful dance of a dozen hummingbirds drunk on nectar and greedy for more.

Yet another beautiful weekend in paradise.

On the way home we stopped by the Red Canyon Cafe in Eagle. They had GLUTEN FREE BREAD. So the whole family loitered about enjoying tea, coffee, juice and sandwiches before our long drive home.

2011-07-22T10:48:00.001-06:00

A few days ago, my brother asked our 99 year old grandmother if she believed in dragons and she responded emphatically 'YES!' ...

He then asked her boldly if she believed in Unicorns and she said 'NO', without any doubt or hesitation. When he asked her why, she replied, "Because if you ask a Unicorn if it exists it will always say that it does not." ...

My Grande is getting ready to leave.

our Baba and our Bodhi

2011-07-18T16:52:00.000-06:00

2011-07-18T16:49:00.002-06:00

We spent Sunday at Eldorado Springs pool in Eldorado Canyon. What a fabulous spot, reminiscent of something out of the 50's.

Upon arrival, we ran into Cole's family and found ourselves having a remarkably GOOD time.

And Bodhi was wild about the slide- dunking, splashing and swimming with enthusiasm.

It was another great day in Colorado paradise.

first t-ball game

2011-07-18T16:29:00.002-06:00

In the dugout...

"Hey batter, batter...swing batter, swing"

a ground ball to centerfield...

he runs to first base...

wait, wait...and home....

and here he is looking for a catch.

Honestly, it was thrilling watching him out on that field, grinning ear to ear and enjoying the game. I don't even like sports and I was ecstatic...and then my life flashed before my eyes...weekends filled with games, games, games and more games...I swallowed hard and smiled so as not to show my mounting terror.

the way of the sunflower

2011-07-13T19:44:00.001-06:00

A few weeks ago, I sat holding a sunflower seed in my hand, just prior to the mouth popping, mastication phase, when it's perfect elegance floored me. I stared in awe at the tiny seed nestled in my palm and saw it, in all of it's possibility, for the first time. A flower, a million seeds, a million flowers. Each unique, each the same. And suddenly I was dumbfounded by the arrogance of human.
A small seed, with no big beefy brain to catalogue, categorize, prioritize, conceptualize, quantify, qualify, justify and deify, had within it the flower it could become. Dissect the seed and there's no flower, nor any glimmer of the life that will unfold when the seed surrenders to soil, light, water.
I wondered.
What arrogant assuming is it, to think, with our over indulged brains and narcissistic lens of "self", that we need "do", "think", "struggle", "fight", "hustle", "cajole" and otherwise dance our way into being true...into blooming. Perhaps the wisdom inherent in the seed is inherent in all things...ourselves included. Perhaps if we surrender ourselves we will find the flower already formed within us, ripe and unfurling.

journal entry

2011-07-13T19:12:00.001-06:00

The day is ripe, rich, full.
Birdsong,
Conversation in branches.
Green grass, wet from last nights storm,
Cool carpet beneath my feet.
A gentle breeze rustles, leaves sway.
Dappled sunlight on my face.
Butterflies meet in ardent embrace, wings aflutter.
Tea, hot and steaming, beside my foot.

I lounge, peaceful in blue hammock, no need for words.
A savored Silence.

Hollyhocks stretch above window frames, white skirts unfurl.
A garden brags of lettuce and squash, green herbs and ripening tomatoes.
Wind chimes tinkle.

I had planned "doing" something today.
I had "planned" art and sewing and cleaning and work,
But "not doing" seemed more important.
Laying lazy on a hammock, watching storm clouds approach,
Serenaded by birdsong and breeze,
Embraced in warm air and cool grass.
Summer.

steamboat bouquet

2011-07-10T20:38:00.000-06:00

a weekend trip to steamboat springs sans children

2011-07-10T20:36:00.001-06:00

my big brother

2011-07-07T19:51:00.000-06:00

The following photos depict a recent visit from my beloved elder brother (no children were injured in the filming of this post, though mother was often nail biting on the periphery).

2011-07-03T19:40:00.000-06:00

A Green Mountain morning, what a way to begin the day!

botanic gardens

2011-06-30T19:39:00.000-06:00

A bouquet from one of my favorite spots in Denver:

superhero and ballet

2011-06-28T19:35:00.000-06:00

Bodhi is now a superhero who also practices ballet in graffiti slippers a la Bodhi,

but he vastly prefers the endless noise making opportunities involved in tap.

Now that's my fella!

robot and forts

2011-06-26T09:48:00.002-06:00

So I haven't even taken a shower yet...but living with a child is so damn much fun. When you have a kid like Bodhi, whose enthusiasm is contagious, you find yourself doing things you had no intention of doing with the joyful abandon of a former time...a time when playing was the reason for living and "busy" was a ridiculous invention of adults. The boxes were just lying around, waiting to be recycled, and that bubble wrap was begging for purpose. So here you have it...a fort and robot for protection in no time. As I walked in the house ready for some shampoo, Bodhi hollered, "MOM you forgot something!!! It needs a doorbell!" Of course it does, but that will have to wait until mom is bathed and fresh. Unless Bodhi figures something out sooner, which could bode disaster for my Tibetan bells or any number of potentially repurposed treasures.

four and a half

2011-06-26T09:10:00.001-06:00

Bodhi's half birthday is today!!! When your birthday is the day after Christmas, your half birthday takes on added significance.

Chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast with chocolate syrup, whipped cream, berries, peaches and lots of sprinkles and we are off for a bike ride to the farmers market, library, lunch at whole foods and a trip to the bird resevoir!
He is growing up fast...this big spirited, big hearted, big energied, big voiced, big boy.

fairy houses

2011-06-26T09:04:00.002-06:00

To build a fairy house, first you must collect supplies.

Second, build your house.

Third, say a blessing and invite the fairies...Bodhi is great at this part and so sincere.

roasting marshmallows

2011-06-26T09:02:00.000-06:00

One of the essential skills of childhood and summer, is learning to properly roast a marshmallow and so, as a good mother should, I spent an evening, beside a campfire, imparting the finer points.

First you find a good stick and Dad whittles the end to a point (not overly sharp or you have a dangerous weapon).

Next, you find a spot with hot coals and not too many flames. Slowly rotate your stick and marshmallow to a golden brown perfection.

Surprisingly, Bodhi had no problem figuring out what to do next!

After my lesson, I showed him the impatient way to cook a marshmallow (and my preferred method). Thrust it unceremoniously into the flames until it catches on fire, blow it out and enjoy the charred goodness.

A mother's job is never done!

crested butte

2011-06-26T08:50:00.001-06:00

Here is a picture window opening onto our recent adventure to Crested Butte, CO (one of my favorite places):

A view from the entrance to our little red fox cabin at the Pioneer Guest Cabins (a fabulous place to stay if you're ever on the look out.)

A little farther up the road.

I loved the image of one black cow amidst a field of reds...diversity makes life so much more beautiful!

In town we are always enamored with the many shops, the unique aesthetic, the dog friendly atmosphere and the familiarity of small town life.

Bodhi never passes a flower without taking the opportunity to inhale the aroma.

Or simply convey his floral affections with an elaborate smooch!

On Father's day we went for a drive into the mountains and took several snack, hike and hug breaks.

We found four leaf clovers

and rock prayers.

All in all it was a spectacular trip.

imagine

2011-06-25T18:24:00.001-06:00

2011-06-21T21:06:00.003-06:00

I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

-Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903
In Letters to a Young Poet

2011-06-14T11:25:00.000-06:00

The beach.

I don't know why exactly, but the ocean is my earthly home. Beside it's shore, I breathe easy. In it's waters my cares are washed clean. I float, without effort or concern, I just float. Then with an easy heart, I begin to play, darting in and out of waves, grinning from ear to ear, sand and sea foam, with an open horizon, blue and wide with possibility. On sand my feet feel most sure. Floating, in warm waters, I breathe without holding my breath, shoulders relax, heart alert. In the ocean I am not afraid of being alive, I am simply here and I am buoyant. I could say, "I am a surfer's child". I could say, "I am a pisces". I could say, "I am a water child". I could say any number of things. I know this only, leaving the ocean is a bit like tearing off a limb, only to find it's wide waters lapping within, on the shore of Self, reminding me over and over again, to trust the waters and simply float.

2011-06-14T11:11:00.000-06:00

Nature is wise. I walk amidst her splendor feeling isolated and apart, a separated "other" tangled in thought and perception, tangled in "me". Then I look out at the breathtaking brilliance that I am a part of. Flowers litter the ground, a wind blows and the trees sway in response, a bird calls and mosquitos lurch. For a moment there is no "other". The wind is breathing this breath, the ground supporting this step, life is arising in all its multiplicity and returning in singularity...a single breath, that is All. And I am home.

2011-06-13T09:30:00.000-06:00

My big boy is gone for the summer, this time until August and although the Hawaiian trip delayed the pain of longing, upon my return to Colorado and his empty room, my heart aches. Since he was four years old, I have practiced "saying good bye" and though the pain is duller now and I no longer pace his room, tears streaming down my face with the fierce longing of motherhood, for weeks on end. I miss him. His tender hearted presence and gentle energy. His slow smile and deep thinking. He is growing up and sometimes it feels like a string of goodbyes within a continuous stream of love so large that all our tears have room to fall.

2011-06-13T09:19:00.000-06:00

I'll be doling out photos of Hawaii for a few posts... more once the ache of longing subsides. I can't express how much my spirit is eased beside a sunny shore or how much it hurts each time I have to leave the salty rhythm of the wide blue. My beloved God Parents, Robin and Ned, hosted my travels as a birthday gift. Here are a few shots along the way, with more to come:

tropical color

2011-06-13T09:01:00.002-06:00

2011-06-08T16:11:00.000-06:00

Happiness is your nature.
It is not wrong to desire it.
What is wrong is seeking it outside
when it is inside.
- Ramana Maharshi

The Art of Disappearing, by Naomi Shihab Nye

2011-06-03T17:06:00.000-06:00

When they say Don’t I know you?
say no.

When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.

Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.

If they say we should get together.
say why?

It’s not that you don’t love them any more.
You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven’t seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don’t start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.

faces of Bodhi

2011-05-30T16:15:00.000-06:00

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

fear

2011-05-27T15:29:00.000-06:00

Fear is a dreadful bedfellow. It steals all the covers till we lay shivering in the night. It sits heavy on our chest laboring our in breath and out breath. It cramps the heart and shoves the mind into unbridled overdrive. It terrorizes the body, dominating energy, attention and view.
Yet...I wonder... when we find ourself lying next to its icy form, shaking in the dark, perhaps we could try a new tactic. What if, rather than ignoring or throttling it with a noose of words, thoughts and plans, we reached over and curled against it, breathing in the sharp odor of pain and sorrow. Breathing in... an open space to be.
Perhaps.
Perhaps.

hiking

2011-05-24T17:34:00.000-06:00

I love this mountain...I call it mine... a dear friend... a paramour of earthy splendor (I've recently taken a shine to the "..."). Upon her shoulder (of course she is a she) I lay my head and cry, I tell her my woes, my heartache, my pain and she holds me, carries me. She caresses me with her breeze and fills me with wonder, exchanging my sadness for her simple wisdom: birdsong, flower, deer grazing, billowed cloud, smiling with a face so immense all I see are her laugh lines.

I breathe, carried on her back and she fills me with fortifying courage to return to the world below. She is there too, a tower of rolling earth, rising above the landscape of imagined littleness... a reminder of something deeply more immense.

2011-05-24T17:20:00.000-06:00

Every summer I get giddy thinking about the sweet, sweaty hours to come immersed in mindless books. Oh I know, mindless is a bit strong, but summer reading has a flavor that sets it apart from other more intellectual seasons. As school ends and the temperature rises, I escape into new worlds, meeting interesting characters who keep me company through the long lazy days of sunshine. Thus far I have plowed through three books, The Gift by Lois Lowry, The Girl Who Chased the Moon by Sarah Addison Allen, and most recently The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows (positively lovely). I recommend all three with enthusiasm and although I have no intention of penning a literary description of any kind I will say, that each book left me feeling a bit lighter, not smarter but certainly lighter. I'll keep you posted as my hefty stack of unread books continues to shrink. Just imagine what enthusiasm I will garner for my literary pursuits once the weather outside no longer looks like this:

Can anyone say "ENOUGH ALREADY!!!"?

another gift from my brothers

2011-05-24T13:38:00.000-06:00

a gift from my big brother

2011-05-23T18:10:00.000-06:00

"As a bee seeks nectar

from all kinds of flowers,

seek teachings everywhere.

Like a deer that finds a quiet place to graze,

seek seclusion to digest all you have gathered.

Like a Lion, live completely free of all fear.

And finally, like a madman, beyond limits,

go wherever you please."

~A Tantra of Dzogchen

what have I been up to?

2011-05-15T17:40:00.003-06:00

Art glorious art! Oh how I love my job! Children, Art, Children, Art...throw in a little nature and I am in heaven. I recently curated our annual art show for the students and after weeks of labor and months of planning it went off without a hitch. Here are a few photos to celebrate its success:

The picture above is an example of some of the children's seasonal explorations

And here is a sampling of a classroom space study, complete with a collaborative robot and solar system...

In this picture you can see both our study of watercolor media and the powerful immergent project of worry dolls that evolved over several months in the studio. Each doll is accompanied by an original story from the artist.

These are a few of the self portraits and interviews we did using water soluble oil pastels. Every child in the school made one and I compiled yearbooks using their photos, portraits and interviews to sell at the show.

Here is another angle of the space display...

And here is a photo of the Autumn door we created as a mural in the style of Tony Ortega, 95% of the artistry on this door was done by children aged 3-5. How great is that!

The school spent several months learning about Egypt. Here is a sphinx that we made with the help of my dear friend and sculptor, Amy Laugesen.

And here is the pyramid and palm trees we made during our Egyptian immersion.

These are some of the beautiful oil pastels created by the students

and a few more surrounding one of the murals we made with Tony Ortega this year in the studio.

And this captivating piece of art was done by my budding resident artist BODHI who is also one of the students I get to work with...can we all say "PROUD".

And here I am moments before the show. Proud of the show but my greatest reward is that if you ask any of our students if they are an artist they will say YES without hesitation or doubt. They are celebrated, inspiring, creative artists and I hope that truth will plant itself deep in their hearts and continue to grow throughout their days.

my mother's day gift

2011-05-10T17:13:00.000-06:00

For Mother's Day my two boys woke up at six in the morning and trekked up Green Mountain with me. I loaded their pockets with almonds and raisins and carried my weight in water on my back. The two mile hike took nearly two hours but it was worth every moment to be out in nature with my boys, celebrating life.
Bodhi gave me a bouquet in miniature, as we walked along the trail.

And Owen regaled me with tales of mythical creatures, theories on the nearby geology and possible inventions for a utopic society that he has been considering. While mama nature gave us the gift of herself in glory and rapture.

A perfect day!

three

2011-05-03T20:38:00.000-06:00

The three of us...my brother's and I. For years we were symbiotic, integral to one another's existence. Even now, at 37, I occasionally marvel at the fact that they are drawing oxygen and exploring life independently, on a trajectory uniquely their own. With the stubbornness of youth, I took their presence for granted, a given within the uncertain flow of life and now rather than walking and battling beside them, I carry them with me along the way...a part of who I have become.

put this design in your carpet

2011-05-02T19:42:00.003-06:00

Spiritual experience is a modest woman
who looks lovingly at only one man.


It's a great river where ducks
live happily, and crows drown.

The visible bowl of form contains food
that is both nourishing and a source of heartburn.

There is an unseen presence we honor
that gives the gifts.

You're water.  
We're the millstone.
You're wind.  
We're dust blown into shapes.
You're spirit.  
We're the opening and closing of our hands.  
You're the clarity.
We're this language that tries to say it.
You're joy.  
We're all the different kinds of laughing.

Any movement or sound is a profession of faith,
as the millstone grinding is explaining 
how it believes in the river!  
No metaphor can say this,
but I can't stop pointing
to the beauty.


Every moment and place says,
"Put this design in your carpet!"

Like the shepherd in Book II,
who wanted to pick the lice off God's robe,
and stitch up God's shoes, I want to be
in such a passionate adoration
that my tent gets pitched against the sky!

Let the beloved come
and sit like a guard dog
in front of the tent.

When the ocean surges,
don't let me just hear it.
Let it splash inside my chest!

        -- The Essential Rumi,  Barks,  1995

(thanks mom for sharing)

2011-04-28T20:24:00.002-06:00

I don't believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the experience of being alive.
--Joseph Campbell

birthdays

2011-04-28T20:21:00.002-06:00

Shane turns 42 and

Owen turns 11

Happy Birthday Boys!

a bit of easter poetry

2011-04-24T08:13:00.003-06:00

A thousand voices
a thousand more,
calling out
a thousand doors.

This one certain,
that one fearing
this one martyrs,
that one shames.

Voices in Gethsemane,
calling,
garden agony,
on knees falling.

Listen for a single
test...
Silence sounding,
a song of rest.

Parched lips thirsty,
water taken.
deeply asking
"Hast thou forsaken?"

Three days float
in darkened tomb,
Christ arises
from earthen womb.

Lift and raise the
truth within me.
remove the stones
and set it free.

Single song within
resounding.
"I Am I"
Christ's own song
sounding.

pesach soap box

2011-04-20T20:54:00.003-06:00

It is Pesach (passover) and as the goya amidst a partially Jewish family, I have been thinking deeply about Mitzrayim (the Hebrew word for Egypt) and Exodus. I struggle with biblical readings. I, like Jacob wrestling with the angel, want the deeper meaning, my real name, catharsis. Without this deeper resonance, dogma is dust in my mouth, offering little nourishment amidst the matzoh and wine. So I study. I read. I reflect. It is the path of a mama who adores all traditions, not for the tradition itself but for the deeper calling echoed within it. The call of consciousness longing for itself.
Mitzrayim actually translates into "a place of constriction". AHA! Now that is something I can relate to. Constriction. The bud wrapped, before the bloom. The caterpillar tight in chrysalis...bound.
What is it in us that rebels against constriction on one hand and is lulled by its known security on the other. Nature doesn't resist the bud or there would be no flower, no fruit. The caterpillar would never take wing, the egg become bird, the seed become tree. What in human nature resists this process. Mitzrayim becomes something to expel OR surrender to. In our complacency, numbed to our discomfort, we shrivel as buds unblossomed and songs unsung. We become comfortable in our slavery...uncertain. Commerce, capitalism, politics, medicine, media, concept, belief, should, shouldn't, right, wrong and the almighty right to "more"---we labor, lost. Then a voice within us urges.. to the edge of that constriction. Tightly bound, afraid, we leap toward the unknown, pursued...by past, status quo, habit, fear, powers of might. We struggle against limitation, bounded by beliefs and we bloom ... again and again... not a flower in isolation, but life pressing outward, life becoming life.
Give yourself to that simple process.
Give yourself to that resounding call... "Let my people go!"

2011-04-18T14:04:00.003-06:00

I saw this painting at the art museum in Chicago, amidst hundreds of other marvels. I am always impressed by the impressionists and pre-post-and pseudo impressionists. I am in love with light and the portrayal of illumination. It draws me into its depicted warmth and suddenly even the subject is secondary to the experience of luminosity. I appreciate this same quality in photography, enthralled by radiance and captured brilliance. At times like these, I remember my years at the University of San Francisco through the remembered fog of youth. I do recall, however dimly, a biological psychology lecture in which the professor talked about the visual/auditory-wave theory, which suggests the world "out there" doesn't exist in the way we imagine. In fact, it postulates that the world is an array of "waves"(think auditory waves and light waves) which are interpreted by the brain into "meaningful data". If that is true than we are constructing our world through the lens of our own consciousness, in much the same way that mystics have been alluding to for years. This was one of those rare college lectures in which I sat up and listened. I have always loved anything that questions my constricted, conceptual reality and I experience that same existential uncertainty each time I view a painting, like the one above, and topple into it's brilliance, reflecting the uncertainty of liberation.

perspective

2011-04-04T13:49:00.002-06:00

One of the things that continues to inspire and confound me in life is perspective. We take so many things for granted, assuming that our given vantage is correct, real and true and yet from a slightly different angle something seen one way..

can be something all together different.

A corn feild

becomes a mass of texture...

And a may apple,

becomes a giant

A cloudy sky looking up,

becomes a viewer when the perspective shifts.

Yet, in our presumption we believe in the singularity of our vantage point without pausing to explore the infinite angles and possibilities inherent in every moment. Wouldn't it be interesting to adopt a "what if" approach to life, softening our gaze and relaxing the narrowness of concept and belief to allow for a glimmer of the mystery of it all.

my Bertie

2011-04-03T17:09:00.003-06:00

A trip to Aunt Bertie's is like stepping into a fairy tale, complete with a musty old farm house and a magical godmother whose lilting spirit seems to remedy all that ales you with the wave of her hand and a prayerful ditty.

In the past year her eyesight has dimmed. She is blind in one eye and the other sees through a hazy "white out". She hears only when the speaker is shouting and laughs, saying "Eh?", with full appreciation of her joke. She struggles to walk now, tottering slowly from one chair to the next, all the while affirming in her sing-song voice, "I am walking upright and with confidence"or "I give thanks for my perfect sight and hearing, my limitless strength and energy, and my perfect health". She smiles often.

When I first arrived she said that she hadn't really played the piano in months but soon she was seated on her familiar bench pounding out songs with gusto, groaning at her missed notes and smiling brightly while singing songs of yore.

She can not stay upright for more than 10-15 minutes before she finds a little nest on sofa or bed and smiles peacefully while meditating, her lips moving silently, blessing us, all of us, with a love so big that you dissolve into it. She still lives alone.

While she rested long hours, I took long walks through corn fields and prairies, woods and dales. I smiled at flowers and cloud banks and cried wide rivers of salty tears.

My Bertie has been my Godmother all my life, in her eyes I have always been beautiful...not beautiful through worldly eyes that ebb and flow with time and fashion, but a beauty that is unchangeable, unspeakable and divine. When standing in her gaze it is as if everything the world has ever said of me or thought of me was a lie and all my pretense at littleness has been a laughable farce. In her eyes I am radiant, I am whole, complete and perfect. In her heart I have always been home, without effort or apology. And to me she is beauty and light personified. She is ninety-four with a body approaching it's final rest and a spirit so effervescent that it leaves you glowing and vibrating in its wake. Leaving her this time was one of the hardest farewells I've ever made. I have been growing in her sunshine and taking refuge in her shade for so much of my life that I can hardly imagine it without her. She is one of those fundamentals in my existence, like oxygen, water and rest. She talks of leaving with a gentle peace, like one talks of moving out of a well loved house that is growing small. She talks of life with the grace and ease of a life well lived.

I love her with abandon and I pray that in some small way I will always see myself in my Bertie's eyes and perhaps I will learn to see you as she has seen you, through a heart intent on God, smiling.

the windy city

2011-04-03T16:25:00.001-06:00

Where oh where have I been? Well first things first, I began Spring Break in Chicago for an AMS conference and Reggio/Montessori presentation with a few of my co-workers (I didn't even vomit while presenting which was a miracle in itself). It was a fabulous trip- cold, blustery, disorienting and beautiful.

These are a few of my gal pals and coworkers posing smartly...

Next, a few shots of cityscapes...

And a trip to the Art Institute...

by way of the bean...

and a fabulous supper at Studio 110, a friendly little french bistro near our hotel on the Magnificent Mile.

All in all a fun trip...or beginning of a trip...next stop Olney and Farmhome.

tree vision

2011-03-03T13:50:00.002-07:00

Without the body and the mind, the trees couldn't see themselves.

Usually we think that we are looking at a tree, but the tree is looking at itself through us.

Without this instrument, the tree doesn't get to see itself. We are sensing instruments of the Divine.

~ Adyashanti

birthdays

2011-03-03T05:37:00.001-07:00

Thirty-seven (and a nod to my big brother who is thirty-nine today). Time is such a strange thing, it ticks and tocks with abandon and the form dances to its rhythm with frenetic urgency. The essential Self remains unchanged, watching with an openness that astonishes.

2011-03-02T18:19:00.001-07:00

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture.
Still treat each guest honorably,
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
- Rumi

dinner with the Katzees

2011-02-27T10:44:00.002-07:00

So Mojo showed up with an art project for dinner at our house. I had spent the day nursing a migraine in bed and had little motivation for cooking...this was just the antidote. She arrived with a plate of julienned vegetables and several packages of fresh fish.

Soon Baba was put to work slicing with a precision only Ronaldo can contribute.

Next, we prepped the fish in an array of aromatics within a parchment heart. Here is halibut prepared with minneola orange slices, green onions, fennel and olive oil.

This is dover sole rolled with a mixture of rapini, garlic, lemons, olive oil and salt.

Mojo is showing off the sea bass with mojo verde (roasted/peeled poblanos, cumin, cilantro and olive oil), onions, tomatoes, olive oil and salt.

Bodhi played the joker and tried his hand decorating the salmon.

Mojo added her flair with zucchini, sliced garlic, shallots, onions, red peppers, fennel, lemon, fresh thyme and olive oil with salt.

Here is the next packet of turbo with celery, red peppers, shallots, onion, tarragon, garlic, olive oil and salt.
She also made jumbo shrimp with tomatoes, onions, garlic, lemon, mojo verde and salt with olive oil. We baked them at 400 for 4 minutes and 13 minutes at 375. She reminded me that if we weren't so difficult (both shane and I are on a weird diet) she would have added white wine and pepper to each packet.

Owen was sadly in absence, celebrating his good friend Paloma's birthday and missed out on the culinary adventure.

I contributed a big salad

some roasted brussel sprouts, brown rice and steamed asparagus.

Here are the steaming packets revealed just prior to our gustatory feast.

We finished the evening with baked apples, a couple of Bodhi games and flying with Mojo. It pays to have a chef in the family.

2011-02-27T10:18:00.000-07:00

So I was asked recently, why I would get up at 5:30 in the morning to go hiking before work. In answer I have a few pictures: