angelbirdflies

"Tiger got to hunt, bird got to fly; Man got to sit and wonder, 'Why, why, why?' Tiger got to sleep, bird got to land; Man got to tell himself he understand." -Kurt Vonnegut

When I left my mountain I knew I would miss it but I didn't anticipate the heartbreaking loneliness that arose in its absence.  The mountain had become my lover.  I turned toward its wide embrace day after day, night after night and it never failed to astonish me with spaciousness and welcome. I have been slowly meeting the lake near my house.  It is not as wild (I can almost pet the coyotes) and it is not as wide but it has beauty and gifts just the same. And although it isn't my mountain love it is becoming a dear friend. Here are a few of the sights this morning offered up on my sunrise walk: When I am in nature I am often smiling or laughing or crying.  The beauty seems to wrap tender arms around me and I feel held in a love so full that all of me is welcome.  My lover.  And I am not alone or untouched or unheld, I am nourished to the core and all I can give in return is gratitude and adoration.

Bodhi's newest creation...a hand sewn and home made, bat-monster recently dubbed Moby Dick with an emphatic pronunciation of the last name.  My new birthday book from my beloved brother-friend Neal...already being put to good use. And spirulina rice krispie treats for the wee little leprechauns to find as they make their rounds tonight in pursuit of rainbows and gold and clovers and good times.

 Lonely.  Everyone has experienced the weight of being surrounded by people and gripped by loneliness.  Lonely is different from "alone".  Alone has always been a friend of mine, a cherished beloved who sits quietly an my side and in his stillness I can hear the early morning sound of birdsong and wind with deafening clarity.  Loneliness is something all together different.  A cold bedfellow who steals all the warmth and leaves your heart aching against the night. I have taken to buying myself flowers every week and tenderly arranging colorful bouquets throughout the house.  I breathe love notes softly in the air and smile at my reflection in the mirror, heart open in welcome. And when the tides of longing arise, I wrap my arms warm about me and embrace the waves.

Love is an emotion. totally silent and inexpressible with words.~Rumi

Our clocks sprang forward today and I rolled out of bed at a painfully early hour to get my gym in before the boys were up and hungry.  Upon my return we made breakfast.  Owen made turkey bacon.  Bodhi scrambled eggs and made green drink smoothies.  While I made gluten free banana-vanilla waffles...YUM. After my shower the boys and I enjoyed a rediculous self portrait photo shoot in my bedroom mirror before a trip to the library and a movie date to OZ, the Great and Powerful. When we came home the boys made me a gorgeous little snowman...  While I made them fish tacos for supper. Another beautiful Sunday!

These self portraits were inspired by a recent discovery of  Jen Davis's photography . I have always loved self portraits as an avenue for personal reflection and exploration.  I usually shy away from the camera unless I am behind it, prefering paint or pencil to capture my reflection...but if I get to dress up like I did when I was a little girl AND I am wielding the camera, I feel quite differently.

Welcome. Welcome to the cold the unresolved the hidden the painful the uncomfortable. Welcome. Welcome to the warm the light the joyous the radiant the whole. Welcome.

I LOVE MY JOB!!!  We celebrated Asia today with an all school festival and I got to be the Indian representative with my friend and coworker Vida.  What a beautiful day. I spent the hours painting bindi's and henna on eager children.  It really was a treasure of a day with so many smiling faces filled with wonder.   Here is a link to more photos. After leaving work I stopped into Sprouts to pick up a few last minute groceries before the big snow storm.  I was treated to a number of questioning glances and was reminded how many adults have forgotten the simple joy of playful abandon.  I'm so grateful I work with these beautiful child-teachers daily because they never cease to remind me.

Love is. End of story.

You cannot earn liberation. I have not earned liberation. No one will ever earn liberation. You cannot become good enough or work hard enough or be sincere enough to deserve it. Liberation has not happened to me and it will not happen to you. Yet there is liberation. There is only ever liberation. Perfection is already here.  What you are is already divine.  What is sometimes said is that the self has to die for liberation to be seen. There is a problem with the language here because “has to” implies some imperative or task. But all this means is that this is already liberation, but it cannot be seen until the self disappears, until the self dies.  If what you want is to see liberation then I hope you die soon. ---Richard Sylvester

Sunday began with birthday waffles (at Bodhi's request), layered in chocolate and nuts and fruit...Oh my.  Followed by an influx of birthday calls, emails and texts.  This gorgeous bouquet arrived from Robin and Ned yesterday and...  this lovely array of roses were a gift from papa Shane. If you read the last post then you know how lunch was spent and the afternoon was rounded off by another library excursion and another stack of library books I will spend the week enjoying.

Happy day...Ron and Joanne gave me this gorgeous cruiser!!! YAY!   Joanne made me the most amazing Burmese feast.  I felt cherished and loved.  This amazing mushroom and tomatoe curry was to die for delicious!  And this chickpea and lemongrass soup was simply phenomenal. For dessert she prepared a yummy black rice pudding cooked with coconut milk topped with pistachios. Happy day.

Mountain in winter Knee deep in snow Finding the trail And losing it And finding it again. Gratitude. When I feel lonely and ache for arms to wrap me in love, I climb the slopes of my mountain and the heart of the Beloved surrounds me, caressing skin and heart, whispering sweetly on a breeze...nothing promised that isn't already delivered. Truth.

What happens when we shuffle off this mortal coil? Why do we ignore this question? Act like it doesn't matter? Or it doesn't affect us? It has been bumping around in my mind since I was a very little girl, jostling with questions like: "Who am I?", "What is life?", "What is real?".  The questions themselves have become a part of me, they have shaped the lens through which I peer out at the world, baffled by a flower and the inherent wisdom in every seed that gives rise to its bloom, astonished by a sunrise or a sonnet or a laugh.  It's as if the whole of life is dancing in miracles and I, imagining myself separate, am deaf to the tune.  My Grande is gone and yet, sometimes, I hear the music and the gentle sway of life and I feel her love wrap around me and the sure sounds of her laughter.  Perhaps the truest gift I can give to this moment is the honest assertion that Life is.  Whether I understand it or not.  Life is.