angelbirdflies

I made an interesting discovery this week: love flows IN as well as out.  Perhaps this is common knowledge for many of you but until very recently I didn't know love truly flowed in.  I have always experienced love flowing THROUGH my heart, like an open faucet but not necessarily into it from others.  I never doubted that others loved too. I just believed that all of us could only experience love on the outflow.  Life is such a wonderful playground and how appropriate that my heart should evolve its capacity to feel love and let love in at the same time as doctors prepare for a surgery to repair its faulty wiring.  Thank you David for the gift. Apropos indeed.

 Who we are and who we pretend to be is a source of great confusion for most of us.  What if who we think we are and who we pretend to be are just gossamer non-sense in the broader field of who we really are.  What if we all stop efforting and resisting and posturing and simply relax long enough to experience what remains when all effort subsides.  Who are you really?

Fall colors, a cacophony of visual splendor, skirt the front range in breathtaking beauty.  Seasons shift as nature discards her leafy summer bounty in favor of simpler adornments.  I find myself wanting to nuzzle deep into her arms, beside a surplus of collected grain (gluten-free of course) and slumber through the pending chill and icy days ahead.  Until then,  I spend my days astonished in the presence of so much beauty.  Every breath is gratitude if we but lift our eyes to meet the day.

Horizons. Wide, Open, Filled with possibility. I gravitate toward these. I am as interested in the blank page as I am in the words written on it.  Perhaps more.  There is so much possibility before the first mark is made.  I feel this way with my own life.  Hesitant to commit to a single choice, lest I mar the open range of potential inherent in the spaciousness before choice is made.  Who am I?  I ask this question again and again and wonder who I am before the first thought of Angelina begins to arise.  Where am I then, before the horizon of self is hemmed in on all sides by a story of being?

Since everything is but an apparition Perfect in being what it is     Having nothing to do         With good or bad              Acceptance or rejection, One may well burst Out In laughter . 14 century, Tibet Long Chen Pa

Here are six photos of two of my favorite people taken by one amazing photographer and person! That equals a happy mama!