Porch Seated, Whereabouts Within

January 18, 2019.  Winter weather changes certain habits – like wandering about in the yard looking at the day’s blooms and potential blooms while Labrador Buttercup tends to her morning business.  A heater on the enclosed back porch (our seasonal greenhouse) tempts and I navigate toward the rocking chair near by, leaving the porch door cracked for dog’s return.

Often porch time becomes reflective, more so these past few days as I’ve begun reading Alan Watts.

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Feeling The Wait

January 13, 2019.  Reflecting on my recent routine visit to the Ear-Nose-Throat doc – a remarkably pleasant space for waiting your turn – light coming through windows along the outer wall of the receptionist area – then passing through a cheerfully frosted panel into the make-yourself-comfortable area.  Usually, one or two others share the wait.  But this last visit got crowded.

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Necessary Unpleasantness

December 26, 2018.  ‘Tis that time of year for tending to things put off … I don’t make New Year Resolutions, but I do focus on major to-dos, getting some of them off the list, off my conscience before the year ends.   Like cutting back the yaupon holly – arched trunk  extending over the sidewalk, into the street.  Of course I took photos before we began cutting.  The chore is done, off the list, but my conscience is unsettled.  If  only I could’ve moved the street instead …

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Plea To The Chances

October 23, 2018.  Once a year the Lone Star Flute Circle (Native American flutes) meets at Austin’s premier garden (and more) center – The Natural Gardener.  Unique flute voices float out from the porch of the main building, hovering over ever-changing seasonal plants and yard sculptures.  Husband Gary stays on the porch, taking turns with the others, contributing several of his flute voices.  I wander the grounds, returning intermittently to the porch, listening to flutes all the while.

Except – as I approached the labyrinth in the back corner of the property, flutes were overridden by a raven calling, calling, calling.  The stark shift in tone from flute to caw jogged my thoughts back to words read earlier – glass half full – calling as insistently as the raven – commencing a labyrinth walk focused on capacity to add more to my glass.

Referenced: RobertOkaji.com – “Letter to Harper From Halfway To The Horizon”

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Peak Curiosity

October 14, 2018.  Out in the yard, pruning back an overgrown Jerusalem Sage, I noticed a small hole at the edge of a stump previously obscured by dense sage – thought nothing of it – UNTIL I noticed my year-old cat Brie trotting away, head held high, looking for all the world like a mother cat carrying a tiny kitten!  I went for the camera, and found cat nose-to-nose with rat, each waiting for the other to make a move.  Not wanting to watch what seemed inevitable, I went back to whacking on the sage.  But I was quickly interrupted by Brie at my heels meowing loudly.  I followed her back to where the rat should be (her perspective) but no longer was.

 

Guessing she blinked first.  Her first rat, but maybe not the rat’s first cat?

 

Look closely, follow Brie’s nose … and you’ll see a tiny rat staring back at her.

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Why Gather To Meditate

October 6, 2018.  Today the U.S. has taken a turn many of us deem disastrous.  But why sit home and follow the predictable senate vote?  Better to brave traffic tension, spend the hours with meditative peers.  Not a word uttered about the politicians’ games.  From the silence, I’ve come away determined to keep a beginner’s mind, to follow whatever comes next with curiosity, to remember that nothing happens in a vacuum, nothing escapes eventual change.

This verse formed in my head as I drove toward today’s gathering – an intention mantra of sorts.  The image is yucca seeds, gathered temporarily before separating to spread yucca essence beyond original setting, mixing into varied landscapes.

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Beneath The Fan

September 27, 2018.  This poem emerged from a diverse spirituality group that meets every other month.  We each share something responding to the session’s focus – then we sit in silence.  Silence can be relative.  Certainly sounds normally unnoticed take on new significance when human clatter subsides.

Last week I took in red yucca seeds and a quote from Florida Scott-Maxwell in response to the challenge: What can you see when you are able to look past all your comfortable assumptions, judgments, prejudices, and fears?  There were several seed-related  responses, and the various seeds/interpretations were swirling in my head as we began what would’ve been silence … but for the old fan directly above me.

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