Does anyone else feel- the repeat

Like the Movie- Groundhog’s Day

Am I perfecting in myself

That which I have no knowldege of

So as to convince the universe

That I am it’s mate

The one it’s been waiting for.

Humbled by how much I don’t get it-

What is happening to time

And my sence of self and

All the other illusions-

Slipping through the hour glass

Awake- asleep= Awake.

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Are we on a trajectory?

As in- “Do we have a destination?”

Having entered what feels like a giant pause-

The eye of the storm- waitng for fresh breath-

Stalled or cosmically resting….

For the final push?

Eating our vegtables and

Managing to say a few groovie things

Here and there- but that’s about it.

Oddly inspired by how odd it feels…

What’s your take? xo Sally

What a change in the weather-

The long awaited snow has arrived

At last we can relax—

Banks gets muddy feet and eats grass

Saying- Lets stay our here forever.

I am the old woman- Bank’s companion-

And I agree- Let’s stay our here forever…

Having tied a string to my figure

As a reminder-

That I have signed my name

Sally White King

To The Book of Love.

We get to stay.

Mid path- the snow covered brambles

remind me that I have always been at home

The love that I trusted

Releasing what no longer serves

Whom I had written to – trusting love

THE FIELD

This photo is a self portrait-

My hair – dry as winter grass-

Eyes a wild sky- nosing the air- my feet tap

Wanting to enter the distant edge-

The myterious woods- the adventure in my soul-

A beckoning bramble patch…..

Where are we going – you might ask

And I will say – this way.

“Let my love open the door.. let my love open the door

Let my love open the door-To your heart….”

Joseph Campbell said of marriage

That it is an ordeal

Because it means yeilding – time and time again

And this is why it is a sacrament ( a ritual toward grace)

“You give up personal simplicity

To participate in a relationship”

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In several of the older couples I know.

One of the two- is failing cognitively

(While the other has something going on with their body)

This is wildly uncharted territory-

Demanding a kind of acceptance and a lettng go…

These folks are our unsung heros-our saints….

But it’s impossible situations- like these

That change us into diamonds.

There is grieving too-

These changes in our partners

But perhaps it is grace itself that opens again

The reluctant ” door to your heart ”

Squeak.

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Margit- grew up over a trains-station in Germany

Her father played in Hitler’s symphony-

But she had a picture book of tropical plants

And now lives in a garden on the big island.

Making art – like these charming geese –

Naming them-Kate ( for the Duchess of York)

Gracie and Josie- the Defender.

She did this work for her amusement

And so to this point – watch on YouTube

Isabella Ducot- Now I am fully an artist.

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It is very daring indeed to think

That by giving ourselves to what amuses us

We are fulfilling our purpose-

Is it that simple?

Yes.

No one will want to hear this-

But I have seen again-

The deep conditoning of the diminished self

Of women.

We were not supported -and

There is guilt and shame

In our lineages.

( affecting our strength and power now)

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A friend told me that her mother

Got pregnant- her first time having sex…

High School boyfriend- they broke up

Four months later she understands that she is pregnant

The parents make the kids get married

The baby is born and dies.

And this story was kept in secret – until an uncle

Mentioned the baby-

A baby that my friend knew nothing about.

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Secrets were the name of the game in my mother’s generation

But also too in the 60’s onward-

We have been so well taught

That the blame is ours.

There is recovery in shared stories

Hearing about my friends mother- heals me

And makes me mad- in the best of ways….

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There has been no healing for either of them

Her mother shut off her heart long ago

Saying to her daughter- I moved on- and so should you.

But there is no flow between them and she is 83.

This is a travesty… we can do better.

I was beyond spent and my soul said

Go to the high country- NOW

Wild basin is the headwaters of the creek

We call our own- the St Vrain.

But up there – it belongs to nobody

And I needed that kind of wild.

We were zombies

So I wasn’t suprised

That when we returned to the truck

Pink cheeked and restored- that

We had locked the keys inside.

So we made a day of it-

Hitching a ride from the parking lot

Back to Lyons

Only to go back up again.

But I swear this is just what I needed.

Letting the power of the mountain

Claim what is not mine in the first place.

An eagle was involved

I had just begun my meditaion

But nature had another thing in mind

As the hawk made a hasty landing

Her feathers in disarray.

We waited- the hawk, the eagle and I.

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But what was my part in the story?

Am I just the witness ( is it enough?)

Or am I the interpreter of the dream?

My feathers too are ruffled

My beloved America is in trouble

As we witness a steady flow of disruption,

We wish there were more we could do.

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The eagle took flight

Who knows what actually happened?

I like that I can ask this question.

Keeping my heart open

Is a full time job.

An eagle was involved with the quick landing of the hawk

(I had just begun my mediation) Facing East

Toward the sawed off Cottonwood- I

Waited with the hawk- while she

Readjusted herself after a close call.

Reading the signs of nature – her ruffled feathers..

An obvious a reflection of myself.

Readjusting constantly to the steady flow of disruption….

The eagle left- who knows what actually happened?

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I am interested in my not knowing.

In this field of “I’m right and you are wrong”

We have to work with broader truths…..

Even as the mind screams it’s rightness.

Surrendering to spirit- spirit it there

A true friend.

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Happy Imbolic-

First glimpse that spring is on her way.

On this cold Saturday

The faithful of Lyons show up to protest.

I lent my scarf to a hatless comrad

Holding our signs high.. we are

Neighbors in RESISTANCE

And as Sam says, ITS OUR DUTY.

( our democracy is compromised)

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I wandered over to a low fire

Coals heated by a propane tank

Guarded by a wolf.

( It felt like a homeless camp-

Sharing with each other what we had)

…and so

I asked the wolf for a story,

(He was a young guy but it made a go of it.)

“Just back from Minnesota, visiting family

Where is was 20 below-

Amazed that my car started.”

There were three us at the fire

A strumming guitar player and I- who

As we stood there together- felt the deeper truth…

Community is sustainable.

So don’t be fooled into thinking

That we are not connected.

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So in these days of extreme strife…

Let’s tell each other things…

Letting our chest be like drums

Where the words reverberate

Melting the ice.