Bird song, The quiet of winter melts. The cold grip that clung to the trees Exhales at winter’s end. I am wide awake to a yet Unoccupied Spring On the cusp, The verge of new life. The cycle begins. The seeds of intention are planted. I patiently wait to receive The beauty, The gifts. I’m ready for what’s next, Even while stepping into the unknown.
The Deciduous Tree (Part 3)
Do the leaves hold on to the tree’s branches or is it the tree’s own doing when it comes to ultimately letting go? The leaves have completed their cycle. They were the first buds and sign of spring Opening into colorful blossoms. The blossoms became the green or dark hues Expressing the type of deciduous tree. All shapes and shades of green expanding toward the sky. Next there were the seeds. The future generation of trees were expelled down. Pinwheels of seeds helicoptered below The descent to bring forth descendants. Now that the seeds had done their work, The tree could finally show its true colors. The green transformed to bright oranges, reds and yellows. My oldest calls them the color of the setting sun. The strong autumn breezes help the trees Shed their leaves. And then they are bare, Ready to brace the cold of winter. No fragile blossoms to accidentally freeze. Just the tree and its roots Starkly standing in the white of snow. Forever patient. The cycle can’t be rushed or passed through Because it is nature’s own timing And the tree plays its part. The deciduous tree reminds me That all stages are important. One is not more special than the other. It is a seasonal reminder That life’s moments are brief. And there is beauty and a lesson to behold If I just take nature’s cue.
Deciduous Trees (Part 2)
Deciduous trees start with a delicate beauty And end in vibrant hues again. The tree’s true colors are exposed. There is no holding back, conforming to standards or blending in. To spend the rest of your days in that beautiful authentic expression is something to behold and cherish. Unapologetic without concern of backlash. I celebrate the new blooms. They remind me of a fresh start And the excitement of something new. Fragile like the robin’s nest Sturdy and well made But too low to the ground. Not enough protection to promote healthy offspring. Life is all around us. The birds are learning too. They must feel loss. The robins lost their shelter, their home base. Is it too late to try again? Is nature a cruel teacher? Not so if it prevents future loss of life. We don’t punish the birds. It’s the nature of things. And death too is a part of that cycle Whether we like it or not. And we are a part of nature. It can never be removed No matter how urban and modern our surroundings. The pink blossoms are in their full glory And I am delighted.
A new beginning, A return to life, To the cycle of the season of spring. There is change in the air: The stillness, the silence. The cold and dark longing of winter Has turned the page Like a new calendar Or blank sheet of paper. The momentum of change, Of growth, has begun. The wind reminds me that There is power beyond my control. It can be warm and gentle, or biting cold. Spring is the ultimate awakening. Spring is transition manifest. I awaken from my slumber Like the songbird or blue jay’s shriek A sudden shift or a quiet moment into being, To stretch and embody All that was meant to be. Spring is the entryway to fullness, To the temple of my heart. The darkest longing now bright and bold. A word deeply written on the page. A forest of chicken scratch Where the blank earth once stood bare.
The Cycle of Lack
The Cycle of Lack was a huge discovery and life lesson for me. It was the end of 2017 And it was the start of My growth and Feeling mastery in my maturity. I was no longer to blame or at fault for my sense of lack. Is it outside voices, ideals, projected lives Or circumstance that Makes me feel unfulfilled? Always grasping for more Feeling left out, left behind Feeling like I'm missing out And everyone else has their shit together? The grass is always greener over there And I’m stuck over here. It can feel hopeless. I may feel helpless and stuck. It’s hard to find motivation Let alone the momentum Required to create Positive change. When I take a breath, I can step outside of the Hamster wheel of Hurry and challenge And create space, A pause to examine The reverie of lack And ask: What would be enough? What am I craving In this moment? Is it love, companionship or Connection? Am I lonely? Do I crave alone time Or solitude? Do I feel like I’m being pulled In a million directions? Can I be kind to myself And notice one good thing That is going right? I created the cycle of lack in 2017, But it took four years to Find my way out of the center and learn that The magic of reframing lack to one of appreciation Can break the cycle. Will those thoughts creep up again? Of course. Life is full of its ups and downs. It may feel like there’s shortages In supply and energy. I know I can rest. And I can feel gratitude In what is enough Just right now Is all I need to break the cycle.
A Million Stars
Whether outside for my daily walk by the river or relaxing by the lake, I bask in the light. If I pause long enough, I see the stars floating and shimmering. A sparkle on the water‘s surface. How I marvel that our sun, too, is a star in its own right. And right here on the still water, the sun is broken into a million stars for all those who gaze upon its reflection. A star right in the middle of the day!
What story does each little flying fireball have? Where is it in its journey as it travels through the galaxy through the great expanse?
It has a life force of its own. A lifecycle of birth and death. Even though the end may be many lifetimes away, as I feel my own ending so far away. My mind can’t fathom an end to my existence.
My smile is bright like its own star. I have a light inside that longs to be bright. Yet afraid to lose too much light, as if there’s a limited supply. My life force too is a cycle and I honor it by appreciating each day as a gift. A wonderful opportunity to learn, to be, to connect, to create.
The world is my oyster who sinks and scurries around at a speed unknown and unseen to the naked eye. The scallop and barnacle have a mystery and story of their own too. The light reflects down to the shallow sea and they marvel and delight in its rays as do I with my bare toes scrunched into the smooth cool sand. I am earthing and unearthing myself like the bird scuttering and flipping over each dead shell on the ground looking for completion.