angelbirdflies

School is back in full swing.  This year there are no graduate classes to juggle amidst my teaching schedule, which should of course fill me with an exponential sigh of relief.  And perhaps somewhere I am sighing with peaceful abandon but I must confess the relief is overshadowed by a longing for my academic community and the rigor associated with it.  I find myself somewhat daunted by the task of recalibrating my mind to pre-grad school levels of activity.   Perhaps I need to practice sighing…I could surely take lessons from my two boys… SIGH……………..SIGH……………..SIGH. Now off to shower and bed.

Back in Colorado, surrounded by my familiar foliage and life, I find myself remembering the tropical flowers.  I find myself wondering at the flower of self…the unique expression of life that expresses as you and I.  I find myself wondering what pleasure I might find in the texture, color, petals and expression of my own life if I simply step aside and smell the flowers.

This is my beach.  Not because I own it (as if owning any corner of life actually makes any sense, regardless how many wars are fought or money spent), but because my soul purrs when I arrive on its shores and my heart beats wildly in the face of so much beauty.  Each time I stare out at a wide blue horizon from this particular sandy perch, my heavy satchel of worries , need to's and oughtn'ts  is suddenly empty and I am left with a deep and unexplainable exhale…..  HOME .

On Monday morning I had a seizure.   In life I have seldom settled into the inherent vulnerability of being human, nor acknowledged, with any kind of grace, the burning desire to be cared for and nurtured by “ other ”.   I have diligently cultivated self-sufficiency, independence, competence and strength.   I have given to others with abandon but found receiving difficult and receiving nurturance nigh impossible.    That approach to life no longer feeds me.    It is as necessary to accept care and to receive it, as it is to pour it forth in giving. Crying in my Godfather’s arms after the shock wore off, attended by a warm tropical breeze and the songs of Hawaiian birds and water, in a home so beautiful that it belongs on the cover of Dwell magazine, I felt safe and cared for. Not just by a beloved human other but by the whole of life.   And all of Life seemed to be whispering softly and caringly within the grace of its own myste...

Nature is sanctuary... home... life. When I am surrounded by the natural world it is easier to discard my sense of pompous separation and acknowledge my interconnection with life's many disguises. When in nature it's ridiculous to assume a Pollyanna approach to its brilliance, waxing on about its kindness.  I know that I don't understand it. I know that I must remain open and alert to the possibilities arising in each moment. Nature demands respect and careful observation. Nature demands that we come to our senses. Literally. And practice once more our neglected sense of: smell as the scent of pine, wildflower, rain, moose, earth and wind speaks its olfactory dialog with our nose.   taste as our tongue receives the fresh tangy air of a pine forest.   hearing as we silence our cellphones and internal chatter long enough to listen and hear the rustle of wind in trees and the various sound each plant and tree and flower makes as it moves in conversation with t...

As many of you know I have had a very full year…heart surgery, brain trauma, grad school, motherhood, teaching. A full year. This week I complete my master's degree in Educational Psychology.  Last week, while walking alone near the foothills of Boulder, I experienced the first major arrhythmia since surgery.  Its after effects of dizziness and near fainting lasted for several days.  In typical Angelina fashion, I pressed on, ignoring the simple invitation to feel. On Friday morning as I forced myself up the steep incline of a beloved and often traveled trail, my dear body would go no further.  Half way up I lay down on the gravel path, staring at cloud blue dappled sky, surrounded by birdsong, warmed by sunshine and the clear sound of wind in tall grass.  I lay for several minutes drawing in the energy needed to make the descent.  I noticed hundreds of sunflowers, all of their golden faces turned in welcome toward the sun- drawing in energy, drawing ...

Butterfly,          slender stalk,           petals and pollen,           blossom nectar,           wings stir,           breeze blown,                      f          l           i           g           h           t. I used to wait for the time when all would be well, when the ever changing tides of life would shift to calm, clear waters reflecting idealized bliss and saintly assurance. I used to wait for "enlightenment" and "transformation" and "redemption". I used to work hard to that end…books, classes, hours on zafus, practicing inadequacy. The butterfly,      becomes the butterfly,            only by relinquishing all that it...

Where to begin? The first word written on a black page sets the trajectory of thought. Where to begin? I don't know. I stand captivated by uncertainty and the gross human need to explain the unexplainable,       define the undefineable,           comprehend the incomprehensible. I listen to the jumble of   w    o    r    d    s      bumping about in mind and wonder at the preoccupation with thoughts and the artificial buffer they create, affording us the illusion of control and certainty. I wonder what it might be like to       b     r     e     a     t     h     e ,     without judgment or criticism of the breath itself or the quality of the air…     just breathe. I wonder what it might feel like to cease, for a moment, our mental/emotional hustle and let all that is arising BE exac...

" I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars; (I am large, I contain multitudes) I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable: Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof... Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the soul. Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune." -----Ah Walt Whitman and the Leaves of Grass

Sleep was a wayward bedfellow last night.  By 4 AM I was already sipping hot tea at the kitchen table, eating gluten free toast coated with cashew butter.  By 5:30 AM I was winding my way up the mountain, newborn sun kissing my morning face, wind softly caressing my curls and birds talking in aviary chatter like music on a new day. Nature!  In her embrace I always feel at home, even after the most restless of nights, I walk into her arms and I am reminded again and again to let go, to relax and to trust. What better gift could I hope for?

Make a wis h?        A   desire,   longing,   or   strong   inclination   for   a   specific   thing.    When walking with children,  wishes are everywhere.   Dandelions are plucked from slender stalks.    Fuzzy promises        brought toward puckered lips              exhaling wonder                   from lungs filled                        with possibility.   Great gusty breaths,  hearts strong with belief,        send  delicate wish seeds  on a dance across the sky.   Children don't see weeds to be plucked or worried over.   They see wishes,       everywhere,            and a world ripe with possibilities. Next ...

Okay, I am falling once again, with abandon, into the beautiful poetry and deep reflective wisdom of David Whyte.   Here is a beautiful treatise on pain by that amazing artist: “ ...Pain is a lonely road, no one can know the measure of our particular agonies, but through pain we have the possibility, just the possibility, of coming to know others as we have, with so much difficulty, come to know ourselves.”

The Truelove (one of my many favorite Whyte poems) There is a faith in loving fiercely
 the one who is rightfully yours
 especially if you have
 waited years and especially if part of you never believed you could deserve this 
loved and beckoning hand
 held out to you this way. I am thinking of faith now and the testaments of loneliness and what we feel we are worthy of in this world. Years ago in the Hebrides 
 I remember an old man who walked every morning on the grey stones to the shore of baying seals who would press his hat 
 to his chest in the blustering 
 salt wind and say his prayer 
 to the turbulent Jesus 
hidden in the water and I think of the story
 of the storm and everyone waking and seeing
 the distant
 yet familiar figure
 far across the water
 calling to them and how we are all 
 preparing for that 
 abrupt waking, 
 and that calling,
 and that moment 
 we have to say yes,...

Do you ever find yourself exhausted by the questions themselves?  And the minds continual distraction with answers that can never begin to approach the complexity of Life. I do. At times I wonder what it might feel like if the brains busy thinking were silenced and the great unknowings of life were given a chance to simply be within the human context of self.  What then?  What great horrors is the mind attempting to avoid with all its thinking?  And what great horrors is it actually inventing? Life is. Perhaps the invitation is to allow the horror and heaven, the fear and love, the pain and pleasure, the light and dark to rest within a spaciousness, in which no thought is necessary. Just life. As life. Perhaps.

What does summer look like at our house? Well apart from devoting at least three hours daily to homework, here is a sampling:  Bodhi's latest book is back from our desktop publishing company and Bodhi treated us to a special reading and book signing today once the mailman deposited the package into our eager hands.  For supper, Bodhi suggested this AWESOME salad …the boys favorite vegetable is kale!  Now that is lucky for me since it happens to be a food staple of mine.  Afterwards we initiated our newly built fire pit (yes the braggart in me needs to remind you that I built it myself!)...  And Bodhi roasted marshmallows in the back yard...  before consuming delicious, oozing, chocolaty s'mores. To work off some of his energy before bed he played with his new spooner in the back yard.  We then took a pleasant neighborhood walk and now he snores loudly in his bedroom.  Ah motherhood is the best gift I could recieve particularly ...

 One of the perks to having a birthday on December 26th is that you get to have a half birthday celebration with mom. This year consisted of an italian supper with a buddy and a specially made gluten free chocolate cake complete with half a birthday song.  He loves the celbration!!!

Life. I don't pretend to understand it. I no longer even delude myself with seeking strategies aimed toward that end. In fact, it seems now, that all such strategies were subtle plans to outsmart pain, to outwit suffering, to out maneuver life. A friend recently told me, "Many people say they love the rain but when they go outside in it they take an umbrella".  To experience the rain (life) we can't truly experience it without an embrace of its essential wetness.   If we are going to love it, we will have to get wet. Stand naked in life and allow life to drench us and live us, to dry us and warm us, then and only then do we lay down our arbitrary separation from life's wholeness and truly LIVE. I am learning, one droplet at a time. One breath at a time.  One moment at a time.

My incredibly beautiful eldest son just called me full of summer joy and enthusiasm, like a fresh breeze blown across farmland whispering of fireflies and life.  He called to tell me how wonderful his summer is and how excited he is to begin his research for next year in ninth grade.  He called to tell me that he got a heaping stack of new books and how happy that makes him.  He called to tell me that I am beautiful and wonderful.  He called to tell me that something "had been gnawing" on him for a while now and he just needed me to hear it.  He asked me not to give up on letting people in close and to bravely open my heart and life to love and belonging, to connection and community.  He said, "Mom while it is true that a lot of people in life might hurt you, just open your heart anyway, because in the end it always works out. And there is a right match out there for you.  Someone who can appreciate and treasure you like I do but different and m...

My sweet summer boy wanted to go hiking this morning.  So we were up by 5:30 and on the trail by 6:15.  What a special gift to have a hiking buddy at that hour...  to share in the wonder and majesty of life, without all the unnecessary human complexity for a few hours.  Ahhh, nature.