This morning early

I tiptoed into the studio to see the newborn

(Yesterday’s painting- a brave leap

With too many colors-

A puzzel to solve on another day… ahhhh

The unfinished of the freshly hatched.

Jean Pierre too as he graduates from High School

So new to the world- again

As when he was born

A home birth- I witnessed

The miracle of his first spiral

The wonder of it.

Each of us- a unique genius

Don’t let the world confuse you

With it’s ramblings on –

Find that center line that sparks the horizon

And be guided endlessly.

 It’s my birthday-I just barely escaped a mean tunnel..

but I wiggled through-

had to rope Willow back..

I need constant tending like a plant.

But she said that she went a day with no texts and freaked out

( her phone was broken)

I am curious about this pod -of dolphins that we are-

that we require the happy ping of our nearby fishy friend- to thrive. 

 My libra rising is tricky- because relationship is my purpose-

and  ( what a slippery slope-

with the changing lifestyles

and communication styles of  the different generations.

Keeper of the keys

Channel of the Beat-

Approaching the Mother- we hover

In the Receptive.

I’m reading – Mother Mary Comes to Me

By Arundhati Roy..

Incredible writing- here is a sample-

“At the last dinner I had with Mrs Roy

There was a cake

It was a student’s birthday

And a small chocolate cake had been sent up

From the school kitchen for her,

She demolished her slice at high speed

And fixed her eye on mine.

I slid it across the table to her.

And then she was ready for another.

Her final score was three large slices.

I was delighted.

I thought the return to gluttony

Meant a new leaseon life

A few more years at least.

```````````

She smiled at me

Her lovely, nauthy smile.

You know of couse, Kochamma,

That people with dimples

Can get away with anything.

The author of the book – I read aloud

While we each painted the flowers on the table

Went on & on about how impossible it is to be at peace

That the inner landscape is fraught with peril-

The identified self is a mean son of a gun

And owes you and won’t give you up easily.

She suggests – activating the Observer-

The one who knows better then to just take the bait

Taking a pause when the emotions are coming in fast.

Giving yourself that extra beat

And in that small opening –

The soul whispers _” I love you”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The book is – I Don’t Believe in Astrology,by Debra Silverman

Really great insights- yeah Debra.

Three deer grace the meadow’s edge

They feel like spirit beings

As I join them

Moving into the twilight space

Of this morning’s meditation.

Weaving in and out of the two realms.

My sister has come -as one of the three

Bending her head -moving in the shadows

Here – again

To free my heart with a rememberance

Of the endless love

She gave to me.

Hello Best Beloveds

Fellow Earthings- our precious planet.

The fox trotted to the river

For a cool sip after seeking supplies for his kits

Tucked in somewhere nearby.

He’s doing his thing – as I do mine.

Taking paintings to a shop

For her baby section-

A chance to go sweeter still.

````````````

The utter blessing of being here

As the valley greens more each day

Yesterday I dodged a snake- crossing the road

She was very directional

In her journey to the other side.

We each get to choose where we are going

In this one perfect day.

Tom Cruise is so angry – at the start-

He is consumed….

As he mutters and slams the car door

To walk down the center of the road-

Anything to get away from his brother…..

Who can not comply.

And we ( the audience) get to witness

The darkened rabbit hole

Of identification with a feeling-

All perspective lost.

You wouldn’t want this for anyone….

It’s so miserable.

But as the film progresses

There is the blossoming

In this young man’s heart….

Exactly what we want for each other.

Rainman- so incredible.

Sal’s pick- xo

The neighbors white sheep died last night

A covered mound

In the field next to our shop

So odd because just the day before

I had paused to admire him-

(He is not usually a beautiful creature)

But on this day – he had this kind of glow about him….

Maybe we glow before we go.

Hello fellow fluffy pink things

As we waddle into this new moment together…

The dream of separation – forgotten-

We bask in our One Thing- ness- relieved

(It was so much work – to differentiate

The ” look at me” – “no me”)

Can no longer be sustained… the earth won’t have it

As she leaps into her next incarnation of consciousness

We can go as One-

Or be thrown off into outer space.

I don’t mean to scare ya-

That’s just the way it is.

The tiny blossoms of the wild plum

Are set to life by the dark grays of the forest –

Not yet ready to leaf- am I?

The white merganser is

As he tucks into the current

Gone – until popping up

Like a jack in the box- thrilled

By these small surprises

The insistance- to join in the fun

Of the crab apple in full bloom

PINK- PINK PINK- we will be renewed

Whether we are ready or not.

My mother savored the melancholy

Of early spring-reciting a painful poem

By Edna St Vincent Millay( called Spring)

Just going to show-

That there is pleasure to be found

In our moody questioning – of all this joy.

Tra- La