Sunday, January 31, 2016

Faery

“Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.”
 
{W.B. Yeats}

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Walk

Each morning, when I awake, worry greets me.

Like a pessimistic friend, worry tugs at me, warning me of the potential pitfalls that lie ahead.

Fear joins in.

I know enough not to let them halt me. I try to be vigilant about putting them to back to sleep, the overtired infants that they are, and tip toe out of bed so I don't wake them.

Throughout the day, when they stir, I lull them with the tools I've collected through the years. Some days the tool bag feels heavy, but not nearly as heavy as worry and fear.
My finest tool is my walks.

Gifted to me in a green velvet bag some years ago when I first entered the forest, I discovered her powers. A new world, patiently waiting for me, inverse of the harried world I had fabricated as real.


On my walks I can spill my tool bag out, and the load becomes lighter. There, I have some of the best exchanges with the parts of me that are untouched by the outer world and unfazed by the fear and worry. Over and over I return to the woods and I am welcomed there with no judgment.


In the woods I let go of the superimposed faces of worry and fear and see the life that is, cosmic, splendid, boundless. The woods awaken my senses and heighten my awareness of what is true.



Friday, January 22, 2016

Evolve




evolve                                               
(v.) : to change or develop slowly often into a better, more complex, or more advanced state

Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Heart


heart (n.) the most essential or vital part of something

Friday, November 27, 2015

Sometimes

Sometimes it is the smallest thing that saves us: the weather growing cold, a child’s smile, and a cup of excellent coffee.

{Jonathan Carroll}




Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Runner?

I am a closet runner. On my walks in the woods I love to actually run. However, I don't identify myself as a runner and the reason seems like a silly one: I don't wear the running gear.
When I run, I wear a long down coat, a wool hat that doesn't match, tall sheepskin boots, with Yaktrax attached--to prevent slipping, and puffy mittens.

So, because I don't have the trendy running jacket, pants, or shoes, not to mention smart accessories, I don't identify myself as a runner. I usually go off trail to some location where I can run freely and am not apt to come across a neon green-jacketed, smartly-capped runner. 

When I run I imagine that if I were to catch another person off guard they might think a Sasquatch was running at them. This, of course, makes me laugh hysterically while running, which may make me even scarier to come across!

 Recently, when I shared this story with my friend, she sent me this clip:





I told her, "That's it!"

Only picture all the heavy gear! :)