Betty, the neighbor’s goat died. I just found out.

She was  the one I looked for, trailing behind the herd as they rushed to eat our compost.

Bow legged  and slow,

I’d call out ,” Hi Betty”

As wide as she was high with  heart shaped lips, oh my!

Betty was my mother’s name.

She taught me the pleasure of words, passionately reading a  poem

Giving it all she had  as if  someone’s life depended on it.

My mother wore a  corral colored lipstick, “for courage.” she once said.

I wish I could remember the name of that color…..

“Wildly wonderful  You”  perhaps.

As my daughter says, “This is not a dress rehearsal”

 

 

 

Harriet Tubman conveyed slaves to freedom

She moved them by her own remembering.

One minute they were bound, then free.

We too are called to develop  our super power

To dance before the fire of our God

until the dross is consumed.

The resultant gifts,

flow of their own accord and do not belong to us.

 

 

On the wings of yesterday’s post,

this golden pair ( don’t you love her teeth)

in pure synchronistic form

arrived viva  e mail from my friend Phyllis.

As Nowma would say, “It’s a miracle”

This mother and child glow with a holy light

She is an Arab woman with her infant son,

born in a difficult city in a divisive time.

In my kitchen, mid morning, a reflective light appears

and seeks out

only this painting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blood and bone and breath

and all the invisible bits that make up our soul.

We discount the Tao and yet it is all there is.

Our name  is written in the sand

And we  affected everything.

Even if we were just stuck in the muck

the whole time we were here.

If that’s the way it was

then it was right.

I’m just saying.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What is a life,

if not a chance to untangle a personal knot.

That karmic tug

to repeat and repeat

the same sequential circumstances

with no chance for a fresh approach.

 

The good thing about aging is that you get onto your own tricks.

Freeing those feelings that were tossed into the sea.

Being with them without condition.

 

 

 

 

Large headed, sharp beaked Kingfisher Totem Hat

upon my head, teach me your wisdom!

You,  who make such a ruckus flying full speed,

only to then delicately land on a wire, mid river

Staring upstream, long distance, loving without thought.

 

I’m in an old fight with my husband

He’ll never do “it” right.

Loving without thought is not the realm of the ego.

To the ego, love is sacrificial.

Let me fly upstream with you.

 

 

 

He is  a local confirmation and a blessing given

Like the Buddha

claiming the Self in the now.

How can we not join him,

bringing to earth a form of completion

as he does?

A ceremony of wonder,

and when I saw him I shouted,

“Do you know how much I have honored you?”

 

 

 

This is a drawing of  small mouse left dead by our cat

Smooth ears, thin white whiskers, a long nose, touch of pink.

Life is not for the faint of heart

The task of witnessing the demise of the living is  constant.

A woman who fed us and let us use her shower,

while we grew up ( during the Hippie era)

Is now residing in Manor Care. Her name is Millie.

I took her the last of the marigolds and a box of tea

and gingersnaps ( she only ate one)

I noticed the soft greying and blurred edges of my friend,

resting toward completion.

Throwing her head back in a ahhhhhhh  at something I said

She told me that I look so good and I believed her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pig runs with clear purpose

hearing my voice, she knows,

her “good ” is at hand.

This morning I dumped into her pail

a failed kombucha batch, scoby and all.

Running full speed with squeals of delight

not shy in her passion, hers is an inspired call to life!

She lifts her wet nose to me  just to see if there might be more?

Ours is a thrilling relationship.

Our exchange pure, compost for pig satifaction.