Energy Of Change

April 4, 2017.  Not typical Spring Fever!  My restless state stems from too many changes I am unable to influence – this urge to tackle something tangible, make something prettier, even if insignificant in the larger realm of unpredictables.   Why not transform a once-stately (still-comfy) rocking chair into a bright turquoise meditation station?

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Roadside Puzzle

March 23, 2017.  We recently returned to Rancho Lomitas in lower Texas near the Rio Grande border – an area with birds and plants that just don’t come further north.  When there last fall, we took a photo of what we thought to be peyote growing along the roadside.  To everyone’s surprise, the proprietors pointed out the distinctions between peyote and our picture of a star cactus – an endangered cactus that Rancho Lomitas is helping propagate in their nursery but had never seen growing natively on the ranch. Wow!  This revelation came minutes before our departure, no time to revisit the star for more (better) pictures.

On this return trip, a high priority was finding that star cactus!  Oh, did we look and look and look – walking slowly, eyes trained on roadside edge, up and down the stretch of road where the tiny star “had to be”.  Well, maybe.  Hours of looking yielded no star, but did prompt a poem.  Afterward, a seasoned resident at Rancho Lomitas comforted us with the comment that rabbits do eat such (indeed the nursery samples are in wire cages) which leaves me eager to return again to photograph bunnies for an update to this collage. (Image note: fingers show a peyote the same size as the elusive star – star enlarged in center of collage – the two look alike to novice eyes.)

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Defy The Calendar

February 7, 2017.  Still weeks till Spring’s official arrival.  But given three definitive signs arriving in the span of mere hours, I am celebrating the distinct possibility that hard freezes are behind us.

The image below is a very startled young possum cowering on a shelf beneath the pet feeder after the Labrador and I discovered him – crouched in the food bowl munching happily, no doubt proud of his discovery of “easy” feeding – a perspective shattered by barking, lunging dog and camera flashes in the face.   (Too dark to see the visiting cat but I know well the source of those howls.  The robins didn’t stick around to pose.)

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Leaving

January 31, 2017.  Lately, a series of dreams have occurred driving solo in my Rav4, and while I puzzle over the varying symbols (a horse in the back seat, a bear hauling me and Rav4 up a huge tree) the constant of behind-the-wheel is perhaps of greater significance. Pondering if the Dream Maker is promoting solo travel, I found my way back to this poem.

My last big solo drive was January 2013, to Taos NM for a meditative intensive.  I was quite hyped about going, both for the experience once there and for the long hours driving.  Driving solo is a unique meditative experience in and of itself.

But going entails separation … this poem wrote itself between home and Taos.  While I have no photograph of the departure scene beyond the poem’s imagery, I do have the contrast view a few hours post arrival.  Parting words of caution rang in my ears as I skidded into Taos along with a major snow storm, icy roads, and much anxiety.   Nothing prettier than an undamaged car, blanketed down for a few idle days.

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January Perspectives

January 11, 2017.  I can’t recall a more turbulent November/December than what 2016 dished up.  And 2017 promptly slapped down a hard freeze.  No more meditative consolation from my landscape!   Or so I thought – but observing Buddha and St. Francis staying  put in spite of the devastation captured my imagination, and a poem crept in as solace.

And listening to our President’s farewell speech last night gives me resolve to stay put in my stance that we are all in this together, more alike than not, and together we will grow from whatever follows.

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Let The Dream Maker Lead

January 7, 2017.  My 2017 has begun with a flourish of intriguing dreams, stirring me to create a collage of dreamscapes that have made repeat appearances in recent years – trails, steps, bridges, houses, fences, water, mountains.  I’ve yet to figure out how to take a photo while in a dream … so these actual photos stand in as symbols for the illusive dreamscapes.

(Perhaps another night,  another  collage of dream animals – cat, duck, and a new one this week: horse.)

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Release

December 28, 2016.  The year 2016 is just about spent – a year to be remembered for many losses.  On the numerology front, 2016 is a “9” – the completing year in recurring 9-year cycles; 2017 starts us off on a new “1”.   Perhaps losses are obscure completions we must reluctantly release.

The image is a mesquite seed pod, aglow at sunset in the Rio Grande Valley.  Hanging on with tenacity, intrigue, beauty.  But not for long.

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Solstice Grace

December 21, 2016.  Solstice dawned clear and sunny, a welcome followup to our first freeze a couple nights ag0, repeated, repeated – now history except for the abundance of plants turning into mush piles.  The Brugmansia was trying to bloom another round.  For a week prior to the freeze I gave it daily encouragement (with a hint of hurry up!)   This morning I stood transfixed by rising sunlight beaming through the still-green wilted leaves and the still-yellow tubular buds – a different sort of beauty, a different sort of strength holding my attention – model for stepping into a radical change of seasons.  Many dire circumstances could derail its Spring emergence, but Brugmansia isn’t burdened with worst-case scenarios.  (Oh, for such clarity of being.)

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Guaging Heart Capacity

December 7, 2016.   The world swirls with opinions, oppositions, petitions, all manner of unpleasant realities.  I wrote this poem the morning after the November US election and set it aside till I could think more clearly.   I keep humming to myself the last line of Ray Wylie Hubbard’s “The Messenger” – I just want to see what’s next.  Then and still, the view is murky.

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