I sat on the studio floor

Allowing the paint to find where it needed to go

… teaching me in it’s wake – the same…that

Something other than me- knows the way… and

What happens when I move forward

Having seen the futility of resisting

The pull of the tide

The force of how much I love.

I

I made a zine- a tiny folded form of story telling

Very handy for when the heart is over flowing

And it reguires a form of conveyance

To complete it’s rotation.

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

I made a zine to give to my friend’s son

A leprechaun of a fellow- in a jaunty hat

He is going bald

( like his dad)- our friend- 10 years older-

Who had recently slipped to the other side.

But my heart needed to make a personal marker

Hense the zine-

Which tells of a faithful stop watch-

The same watch that his son says he now has

As he too had wanted to time his wifes contractions-

Thus confirming once again- spirit is here

Winking and giggling- whispering “do you get it”?

Early start – up to Mitchell Lake

Banks is full of zest – curious about each new thing

Me too-

Open hearted we take to the path

Tails wagging.

Simple joy is best.

I compliment him often- so kindly

Looking back over his shoulder

To see that I don’t misstep

As I hop over a log.

We are off trail- following the river

Rushing us onward- toward even

More love.

Chicory flowers bloom for just one day

By evening there is not a bit of blue in sight

But come morning- we are fully gifted

Once again with the magic of blue.

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

Our inner solutions are within reach

Recently I set a question in motion-

And was gifted a super comsic insight.

Spirit conspired to help me see

My next evolutionary step…

From a horse whisperer-

I will now be able to learn

To ask – instead of tell.

To invite connection- (not as a requirement)

But as a true meeting.

As I walked on the path through the woods

My youngest self sneaked back in

That pensive child with head tipped away

I let go of the other

No need for performance- a nasty habit

I picked up along the way.

And just let myself drift and be there-

Finding bits of treasure

A perfect pinecone, a chuck of quartz

A twisted piece of wood.

Terry said that his visitations would be obvious

Like the swallows this morning- looping over the field

Their outrageous joy at summer’s food- abundant in the air

And then there was the- Heron-

Huge wings making her landing in low

Onto the the dead branch

Where all the birds of spirit sit.

It’s too early for me to know how to sift

Through all the heart’s content

That his death has brought to my shore.

I am thankful for this quiet day-

For any ability I have gained

For staying with the moment

With the unknown – knowing- it contains.

Or as my mom loved to say- ” The Mystery”

“I come into the presence of still water

And I feel the day blind stars

Waiting with their light.

For a time- I rest in the grace

And I am free.” ( Wendell Barry)

Poetry is a great comforter-

(Or songs)

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

There is grand Canyon trip about to start

With all the young ( 50 year olds)…

A the second generation of rafters

Who will brave the whitewater without us.

And I felt moved to share- as a strong medicine for fear

An old time song- I have been known to sing

When flying on an out of control wind surfer-

A song-

That would get me back to shore- unscathed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“`

“When the red red robin comes bob bob bobbin along

along- there will be no more sobbin when he comes bobbin along

along- wake up wake up-

you sleepie head

cheer up – cheer up – the sky is red”………..

Smile and be happy.

xoxoxo Sally

My indigenous heart

Found its beat in Alaska

As my soul breathed through its spout

Exhaling in a spray of water

Ah- to be a whale

Swimming in the blue black sea.

So familiar

My familiar.

`````````````
Happy Solstice

The trip is on the horizon

I am washing clothes

And considering what to take,

Lynnie ( 85) and I are bound for Alaska-

Not as our grandfather did in 1912

But carried by a ship with a pool

And nine restaurants.

She wants me to bring a fancy outfit

( I don’t have one)

Our adventurous grandfather

Who died the month before I was born

Is ( according to my phychic friend)

Very interested in me- kindred spirits….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“

When Lynnie was 70

She came with us -down the Yampa River-

Saying – it was the most beautiful

Place she had ever seen.

And now-

Our eyes will be seeing the ancient ice

Of our planet- Northern Totem-

Soul space and what an adventure

This going out into the world-

xo Sally

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.