in the heart of every moment…

The music beckoned to me

To go

So I went

In search of what

I cannot be sure

But, when I came to rest

Deep within the soul

Of my own belonging

I looked down to my feet

Planted firmly upon the sturdy ground

And what to my enchantment

Did I find there….

…but an ancient,

primeval forest…

A wildness beyond my imagining

As near as my touch…

It contained its own bewildering completion

Before it would ever even begin

I am mesmerized

As I leave it behind me

Will it stay there

Where I first found it

Or will it travel farther than far

To become all that it was meant to be

The music beckons to me

To go on

So I go

Wondering as I do

At how many moments in a day

Hold the vast possibility of everything

Yet, we move too quickly

To know they are there

I see a primeval forest

At home in the depths of your gaze

I see an ancient universe

Dance in the sparkle of your smile

In the heart of every moment

Eternity is hoping

To become the love story

That it was always meant to be…

****

ellie894 July 30, 2019

Listening to Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony

wild places and gentle moments…

In East Texas, June air can often be as humid as a rainforest. You pray for it to just let go and rain already. It’s so heavy that I struggle to breathe.

This week hasn’t been that way. The days have had a lovely Novemberish feel to them…inviting me to linger a while…in gentle moments well spent. I have learned much.

Bunnies were born in the yard this week. It began in a frustrating once upon a time, turned into a silly sweet day of caregiving, and finally came to a secure and happy end. I’ll write to you of them soon. Yes, dear Dobby Do was involved.

So, there have been busy hours and not so busy hours, which brings me back to my walking once again….

My breathing changes when I set out to walk each evening. It slows, as do I. To be honest, I don’t walk for exercise. I’m not in a hurry to get anywhere or to do anything in particular.

Forest Bathing is becoming quite a popular thing these days which makes me giggle. It seems I’ve been forest bathing for a long time. Who knew?! I had no fancy name for it or scientific studies to tally up in bar graphs as proof that it was a clever idea. And no, you don’t need soap.

Mostly, it’s about listening…to the trees and the wind…to the birds and the frogs…to the echoes of thoughts in my heart…

In everything there is a longing, to be at peace, to create, to love.

In the wild places everything is a part of the longing and belonging…from the fallen tree to the precious snail. The snail moves as peacefully as a breeze. He pauses often to enjoy the lovely moments…the tiny ones that he knows are worth all the time in the world.

The trees reach ever forth in new creation. Fresh leaves leap into the bluest sky. Fresh roots delve into the deepest earth. Trees create in every which direction from the center of themselves.

And what of love…in the wild places love is everywhere.

Deer keep close to one another in the shade of the sweetgum, listening more carefully than I do for rustling in the leaves. Flowers open in colorful surprise, a gift of last season’s efforts and a whole year’s waiting. Frogs sing to me each afternoon as I blow kisses of goodbye and see ya soon. They probably sing to each other…but it’s nice to imagine it’s for me.

I made cheese ladas this week and had leftover corn tortillas. I shall feed the fish, I thought! No need for waste! The perch were boisterous and seemingly starved! A lone catfish was shy about the whole thing. With time and patience he not only came near but ate straight from my hand. My heart raced in joy!

Then, there was this little turtle. I shall call him Tiny Tim after the turtle in the song that I share with the preschoolers. We giggle and make hand motions and always but always sing it twice…

I have a little turtle

His name is tiny tim

I put him in the bathtub

To see if he could swim

He drank up all the water

Glue glub glub

He ate up all the soap

Nom nom nom

Now he’s home

Sick in bed

With bubbles in his throat

Bubbles bubbles bubbles

Bubbles bubbles pop

Bubbles bubbles bubbles

Bubbles bubbles pop!

Again!!

Tim adores corn tortillas! He easily dispersed the perch and even tried to scare off the catfish who is at least three times his size! He grabbed the tortilla bites from my hand and swam far enough away to gobble them down before returning for more. We went on like this until there was no more. Plus, the sun was setting and it was time for me to get home.

Each day I arrived with something to share. Each day the lake dwellers came in their own way…especially Tim.

Last night I was awfully tired and there had been bunnies all day and I had run out of corn tortillas. So it was that I arrived at the lake empty handed…

The perch splashed at me in gleeful anticipation. The catfish floated gently back and forth at the edge of the pier waiting for my hand. But Tim….he really gave me the “what for”!

He swam close to the pier and popped up…

What’d ya bring me?

When I didn’t give him anything he swam off a few inches only to return and pop up…

Seriously, what’d ya bring me?

He began to come up and just stare at me…quietly staring…

Other times it seemed he had a voice –

Hey?

Hey?

Now?

How bout now?

Now?

How bout now?

Tiny Tim was relentless.

I giggled at his eager enthusiasm. I was saddened that I was such a disappointment to him. I never realized that he would invite me into his world. I never thought they would all come up to the surface of the water because of me. Of course I know hunger was involved, a longing for nourishment. But still, there I am, wondering. I have learned my lesson and shall definitely be taking something to share when I head out to walk later. I have no desire to spend my evening being stared at again by Tiny Tim.

I know there will be more days like yesterday when I have nothing to give. The fish and the turtles will come anyway. I’m grateful for that. Love is not always about doing. Nor should it be. Love is about simply being.

Whether one calls it Forest Bathing or Listening doesn’t really matter. It may be a flower coming up through a sidewalk crack that reminds you of that time…or a single pot filled with herbs that you will use to create a luscious meal. It may be an ocean or a mountain top or a forest with a lake. It doesn’t have to be a big place. You only have to feel the gift of it.

When you find the wild places, the simple ones…you discover they are filled with longing for peace and creation…and they sweetly overflow with love and belonging….

****

ellie894 June 15, 2019

www.true…

As we set out upon our way the very air is charged with excitement!

The scenery is fresh and new despite a hundred walks before…

A dozen scents distract my lelephants…giving me the chance…for once…to arrive at water’s edge…alone…

What should I find?!

Miss turtle well upon the shore. How she must have trudged through muck and weeds to score.

Even now, paws thunder quickly towards us! No time to lose…must act fast…

I gather her up, my hands on either side, whereupon she disappears into her always home. Hurry now, they’re coming!

I carry her before me out along the pier. Kneeling, I set her softly on the water. Promptly she emerges from the safety of her shell, frightened…and swims away…

I imagine a breathless, thank you, popping from the bubble she leaves behind…

All at once, Monsieur le Jacques and Dear Dobby do Right, fly out to greet me! Halting at my side in consternation…

Whatever have you been up to without our trusty selves?

Well, if you must know…I have quite recently saved Miss Greta…from your own brand of torment disguised as playfulness…

Who us? – they query wide eyed with disbelief.

Yes, from you my loves – I reply with a giggle.

Suddenly…

The wild whispering wind…www.true…stirs from the West…one moment, one life, one love…

Welcome it blows against my cheek dropping wisps of hair so I cannot see…

As I put them gently back in place…I look around to find…all are gone once again…safe in the depths…off on adventure…

and I am adrift in the loving caress of the breeze…

****

ellie894 May 2018

softened by rainy days



Gently this day wakes to the humming of the fan and a chill in the air. I’m happy for that. The last few weeks have been fast and furious. Let them be softened by time and rainy days. 

May something good come of it all…. 


There were plenty of good things along the way to be sure!  



A few extra feet joined in my walk. They were a grand and welcome treat! One fuzzy life hopped away! Criss cross applesauce hands in my lap with some sweet tiny friends! The sharing of a lightbulb moment! A simple meal at the end of a long week! Being a part of the very first author event of someone so very dear to me!  


Prayer and poetry and peaceful moments…unopened books waiting for me…


The first pumpkin bread of the season warmed my kitchen from the inside out. The sweet scent of it drifted from room to room, a cozy reminder that autumn is truly and finally here. I shared it fresh from the oven. When I delivered the first loaf it was still warm in its shiny foil wrapper. Five loaves gone in two short days. I will happily bake more. It is a joy of the season for me! First to bake it. Then to give it away. Except the slices I taste test for quality control… 



But there was a hole I never could quite climb out of. No ladder. No rope. No foothold. 


Over the weekend we received some very much needed rain…


I found myself walking in the rain at dusk, such a perfect reflection of my thoughts. There’s nothing quite so nice at times as wandering the woods in a light rain. Pull my ponytail through a baseball cap and head out the door and down the trail…



The dogs will not go out in the rain on purpose…unless I do. If I go, they go. My constant companions stay closer when it rains, pausing every few steps to be sure. Looking back at me. Are we really doing this? Yes…we are. Keep going. Ok then. If you say so. 



What I can see of the sky is grayish white. It feels more like fog than sky, the way the clouds encircle me from every which way holding me tight to the ground. Tight to myself. Rain washes over the landscape painting all of the colors a darker shade of whatever they already are. Leaves and bark and flowers too…Everything takes in the life giving water… and changes.  



The lake stretches out before me. Open and waiting. Tiny circles dot the surface here and there…teardrops falling gently from the sky. The pond silently accepts them with no questions asked. Each one makes a difference. I gaze a while, watching the tiny droplets one by one become part of something so much bigger than themselves. Giving themselves away. Disappearing in the whole. 


We are at our best when we give ourselves away…



Deeper amidst the trees now Mozart thunders in my ear. He is a perfect complement to birds and light footsteps on a wet woodland path. The rain comes rhythmically like musical notes. From cloud to branch it falls like fingers on a keyboard composing a brilliant song! Drops that catch nearby are strong like drumbeats. They pound at the thirsty earth. While others never make it through the treetops remaining so faded and far away. They echo softly in reply to their own question.  



Then there are the closest drops, the ones that soak your clothes and glisten on your skin, the ones that chill you or refresh you, the ones you keep for your very own and make all the difference…those drops you cannot hear at all. They do not have a sound. They silently disappear. Perhaps they become part of you just as the ones that offer themselves to fill the lake.   



There is a gift in even the most trying times if I see with heart instead of eyes alone. Sometimes those gifts, the ones that come in the silent tears of the wind and rain, are the most precious ones after all.


Today is a new beginning, a very innocent one, fresh and full of promise. What secret destination awaits…