angelbirdflies

 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 ...

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:

 The boys got haircuts  and Baba got a little something permanent on his shoulder.

Okay it's official.  I have this new mac and I swear it was designed for the sole purpose of making me feel like an utter and complete moron.  I try to maintain my composure when I can't remember ever making the various passwords each system and program keeps impatiently asking for or when I can't contact anyone with significant savvy without being redirected to online service.  Hello, if I weren't already fumbling with the whole online service I would have no need to wait long minutes in phone ques listening to music I would never otherwise subject my auditory appendages to.  I want to take the screen by the shoulders and shake some sense into its sleek lined, techno touting, imac irritating, software.  Alas, it stares back at me, utterly unfazed by my mounting irritation.  I try to remain calm.  I take deep breaths and yet I can't help feeling like this machine is an intruder, taking up my precious time in insular activities with the promise of so mu...

My dad had a mini stroke yesterday.  He's had them in the past.  He didn't call anyone, but spent the day with his Lori in the hospital, not wanting to "alarm anybody".  It was interesting talking to him.  When I told him that it mattered to me what happens to him, he paused a long time and said, "I guess I don't have a lot of self esteem, I never think I matter that much".  I understood.  Valuing ourselves, our authentic self, is essential to championing life and experiencing the rich tapestry of existing as an individuated expression of that life. His admission reminded me how important it is to matter, not to someone else, but to ourselves. When we matter to ourselves we are willing to act compassionately, with boundaries of steel and unapologetically ask for what we need. The truth is we all matter in ways we cannot begin to imagine.  

Within me there is a pool, deep and blue.  It calls.  Beneath noisy chatter, Echoed within white walls of self. A whispered voice, Wordlessly beckons to its edge.  I approach. Tears flow, A flood without an ark.  Release. Unknot this tight web of "me", stitch by stitch, holding self together.  Fear, Retreat from clear waters To hurried world of "do",  "prove", "achieve", "seek", Isolated in activity, Waxen and cold.  I ache to breathe, Against the armor of "self".  I ache to fall, Without thought of time, Into deep waters, Dissolving in space, Floating on presence,  Breath breathing breath, One.

Last night I went to the Denver Art Museum's world premiere of Stacey Steers ' new film, Night Hunter.  It was an interesting blend of artistic dreamlike images and disturbing sequences.  The film left me with tangible themes drawn from the web of unconscious, alluding to reproduction, loss and fear.  There is an installation in the fusebox, on the fourth floor in the new wing of the museum,  if you are local and interested.  The film consists of over 4000 tiny collages made by the artist over a four year period and each second of footage represents no less then 8 collages.  Now that is dedication.

Whatever you want, be it.. If you want connection, it's because you are connection.Be what you want, and then it happens all around you. If you want love, be it. You'll have more love than you know what to do with. Whatever you are inside, you receive a thousandfold on the outside. - Adyashanti

Bodhi and I enjoyed a date day together, while Owen and Shane enjoyed a ski day in Breckenridge.  It was magical, filled with laughter, art, cooking, sharing and play.  Bodhi decided he wanted to be a pirate, bake treasure cookies and "do a project" which involved turning an old box into a "real treasure box".  We drew a beard on his smiling face, baked some oatmeal-raisin-chocolate-walnut filled cookies and decorated a box to contain them.  Once this was finished we packed a picnic lunch and drove to the park with lots of blankets and warm jackets (the temperature took a swan dive into frigid waters).  After lunch I hid the treasure box and a little pirate book beneath a bush and gave Bodhi a clue: "Beneath a bush where you cannot see, There rests a gift for you from me." He hunted with lots of "ARGHS" and "AYE matey's", until he found them.  He immediately ran into the midst of the playground trying to gather stray children to ...

I wish I could hike every day. It fills me with a peace that little else offers.  Unfortunately, I am also resistant to being cold. I wait for days like these when the thermometer warms and my boots beg me out of doors (plus Shane willingly watches the boys). Here are a few photos along the way:  And on my way home I stopped by an old chapel on a hill.  I love the ritual of lighting candles alone in a silent room.  Of course I am not a Catholic, but I feel the peace in removed spaces, like nature or quiet candle lit rooms, inviting me inward to the source of life living me.

" Fear is love under a different name! In letting fear arise without trying to get it to go away, it finally shows up as what it really is -- love. Let love choke you, let it throttle you, let it surrender you, taking the fight out of you. How? By letting fear be as it is, without analysis, without labels, without any agenda to be rid of it." ----Scott Kiloby

This is one of my favorite photos.  A heart shaped leaf caught up in the skeletal arms of a blossom gone by.  I look at this photo often, trying to understand what about it has won my favor.  Perhaps it is the beauty of transience.  A reminder that even in death there is unspeakable splendor to be found and experienced.  After rereading the recent poem post and the posts preceding, I had to chuckle.  How interesting to dedicate a year to happiness in one post and devote the following post to sadness.  It is perfect really.  The humor in it begs clarification for my dedication and apparent inconsistencies.  I don't consider happiness separate from sorrow, rather I think happiness may only be found in the peaceful acceptance of the "is-ness" of life.  Devoid of my beliefs and concepts of what life is, or should be, or could be, what is there.  When sadness arises in the "is-ness" of life, or "happiness" arises, wouldn't it be lovely t...

Sadness Gag and cough Swallow it down, It stays, Perched at the back of my throat, Howling. I clamp my teeth and Smile, Hold back the river. Shake. Fear "It's too deep", I say. "I cannot swim", I say. "It will wash me away", I say. Anger Bellows, raging Curses at the dam, "MOVE!" Ssh. I call, Through gritted teeth, Shh. Silent Presence watching, Witness to it all. The water fall keeps Rising, Til water covers all. Present Awareness holding, Crying eyes confide, Tears too deep to humble, Now, Floating at my side.

Bodhi and I have had a sweet day, just the two of us.  We shared breakfast, a little cartooning together, a snowy walk to our unchurch-church, a snowy walk to our neighborhood coffee shop to buy him a little slice of banana bread, a snowy walk home catching snowflakes and then lunch together.  At lunch, I asked him to say a prayer, he said "I don't know any".  I said, "That's okay, just open your heart and listen.  Maybe your heart will have something to say".  He closed his little eyes and grew quiet before his eyes flashed open again, "My heart said one word Mommy, LOVE".  I said "Love is the perfect prayer".  Now he lies napping in his bed, growing so fast that my mama heart aches to hold him while I tend a warm crackling fire in the hearth. To all of you on Sunday, I offer this prayer: "LOVE, Amen".

A Warm Embrace - Our Deepest Fear from R Smittenaar on Vimeo .

A Warm Embrace - The Great Bell Chant (The End of Suffering) from R Smittenaar on Vimeo .

My beautiful, beloved, amazing and fabulous god daughter is turning 13 this month.  Please join me in flooding her with blessings and love.  I didn't get to have a daughter amidst my two wonderful sons, so life smiled on me and sent this angel into my life.  My own God mother is a queen among women and I consider my role an honor indeed. Happy Birthday Karuna!

 My beautiful boy and his beautiful dog.

When choosing a dedication for the new year, I often spend a lot of time reflecting.  This years theme seemed to barrage me from all quarters, in fortune cookies, in greeting cards, in notes and songs, in conversations and print.  I chose happiness because it is something I resist and eye with suspicion, like a shady thief whose brilliant smile coaxes me, time and again, into a modicum of trust only to rob me of its riches come morning. Obviously, a skewed view of joy, founded in a belief that transience bespeaks falsehood (a belief, by the way, that I don't seem to apply to suffering). I recently heard Adyashanti speak on a similar topic with a challenge to "Allow everything to BE as it is". Wow. It seems difficult until one acknowledges that everything IS already as it is and it is insane to try to resist it at every turn while drowning out the "now" with a chorus of dictates on how it should be, has been or could be. The Course ...

We had a small New Year's gathering at mi casa on the eve of the anticipated day.  We chose to make it a gypsy theme and the kids hosted a fabulous candle lit parlour with divination, card reading and palmistry.  It was hilariously accurate and a thrill for each of them.  The feast included beans, roasted beets, steamed greens, a giant salad, chocolate cake, holiday cookies and sparkling pear, apple and cranberry spritzers.  The evening also included the annual reflection time...when all guests are invited to write down attributes, stories or illusions they would like to stop carrying around and then BURN them.  Next, we considered a dedication for the new year that came from the heart rather than the head. It seemed natural for me to dedicate the year to happiness, catch the next post and I will tell you why.