Honoring the Past Year (and her colorful embrace)

Twelve months ago,a brisk January beginning,a gift in her hand.“Open it”, she swoons.Wrappings fell to the floor,a box lid yawns wide,reveals a rainbow blanket splayed in glory,a present of presence. “Let’s switch places,” she poses.My clenched grip of striving unfurls, Iplace my efforts on the golden altar.Allow her, the new year,to swaddle me close in a colorful embrace.She places me on her lap,spins her song of beauty, places silky medicine in my heart. Upside down,cocooned for a year —Anointed with color,the paint of cosmic swirls shifting cells, metaphors ofancient stories unlock theirmystery of knowing through the gatewayof an unadorned canvas….

The Mother Journey

The virginal quality is hard to resist —the bright shine, the colorful glow,the gleam of adventure ready to burst from within Her innocence drips charmtoward those who want to form her anew. Yet, the purity she carries is not naivety,nor is it ignorance to the ways of the world. Trust me, her nature leads her to track like a wolf,to see with the eyes of a hawk,clever ideas spin in her dreams The path winds, the road travels hard,her blood pulses rich as new life beats within. The trek takes her deeper, darker —into the resources of herself. Sleeping, shadows…

5-minute Pocket

A while back, I listened to a podcast with writer, Liz Gilbert, who talked about the importance of the practice of creativity. She encouraged 15-minutes a day of writing even on days packed full. She convinced me that fifteen minutes could drastically alter a person. After that podcast, I committed with stronger Spirit to (at least) 15-minutes a day of creating. Some days for me, it’s writing. Other days, it’s painting or photography.  On days when I lose this rhythm, I notice. In the following poem, I encourage only 5-minutes! 5-minutes is not much, but you’ll be surprised at how…

The Kiss.

The veil touches down in the thin place where 
past kisses present, a delicate sweep of air — sheer mystery. I walk into the fog, formerly familiar, now lit anew, the road reimagined. Where will it take me? Breaking sun, backlit branches, stream through my reckless heart. I consider day and night, their insistence on gathering each dawn. Death and life, not opposing forces, rather 
elbows latched in harmony 
with Spirit. They skip along, capture my curiosity in that profane and sacred are connected, both with a speck of God’s goodness for those willing to mine the mire. Today, ghosts…

Let Beauty Nap in Your Lap

I hear you. You are tired. Worn out from this and that, a dire need for vibrancy Today, I urge you with this simple task: let beauty nap in your lap I know, I know you are quite busy with big plans, talkfests, running to and fro, but if you take a stand to sit, If you take a stand to be IF you take a stand to still and allow the wings of a pigeon dove to shield you with mercy, well then You may find yourself falling in love with the insignificant You may find yourself dreaming something…