Tender Foot.
“Tender foot”. We who have lost our way. We who have forgotten. But with feet so soft, every footprint, every contact, sole to earth, is felt. And how sweet it is to remember the feeling of soil. Remember the feeling of flat pine needles, of silky poplar leaves.
A prayer from Graybeard trail.
“Tender foot”. We who have lost our way.
We who have forgotten.
But with feet so soft, every footprint, every contact, sole to earth, is felt.
And how sweet it is to remember the feeling of soil.
Remember the feeling of flat pine needles, of silky poplar leaves.
With each pad-paw of your footprint, drumming up old memories, straight to your heart.
Rest your mind loved one. Let the sole of your feet do the work of finding your way back.
Of remembering the graze of the stone and the texture of earth.
Our own feet were meant to teach us how to walk.
Do not despair the forgotten. The way back home holds great sweetness.
The Poet’s Slope.
I’d like to have a house, a cozy house, where poetry is alive.Where writing is god.
I’d like to have a house, where the cross of the threshold reattaches “smack!” the umbilical to the endless self.
A poem from Swannanoa.
Photograph by @thislittlestreet
I’d like to have a house, a cozy house, where poetry is alive.
Where writing is god.
I’d like to have a house, where the cross of the threshold reattaches “smack!” the umbilical to the endless self.
You are fed bite after bite of “yes that!”
And “no, no, not that.”
And “yes that!” again.
Tuning your arrow.
Tuning your arrow to years from now.
Where are you aiming son? Where are you aiming daughter?
Follow your breath, where does it lead?
Fogging your glasses, before you wipe clean the smears from your muddy-gardened hands.
Over hot oolong on a rainy summer morning.
As soothing words that wash the ear of a dear friend, who sought your embrace in hard times.
Where loved one, does your breath lead?
Invisible Blueprints.
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A contemplation on building relationship-nourishing spaces.
Beauty is relational. It inspires within, appreciation and contentment for our world. It inspires comfort and peace within oneself. One might think, “I could sit here and stay a while”. Beauty is endlessly utilitarian for this. In a non-beautiful space, you may not choose to stay. In a beautiful space, you may choose to stay. Choosing to stay can lead to the energetic container where you meet your next close friend, collaborator, where you begin your novel, where you sit and merge with your muse, summoning your next great endeavor. Rekindling your excitement for life and connection to your spirit’s north star.
While we all have bodies, space is a requirement for relating. Our outer world is simply a mirror of our inner world. When we change one, it spurs change in the other. Creating functional, relation-nurturing outer spaces is like fodder, to further the wellbeing of our inner spaces. This is not an exact science but more of a probability game of what is more likely to emerge from a thoughtfully designed space.
I’ll show by example. Take my chair in the corner: comfortable, loungeable, creamy-white. The chair is positioned by an east-facing window such that I may gaze upon goats on a gentle hill. Unlike staring at a barren wall, this activity is dynamic and soothing in it of itself. It provides a peaceful pause. This delightful pause invites an ebb-and-flow dynamic in my solo activities of reading, writing, and working. I can take a break from focus, be momentarily soothed by the goat hill, ponder with a view, and naturally be invited back to study.
Can I calculate exactly how much more sustained or delightful my work sessions are? No! It’s all about the invitation for emergence. What is invited to emerge here is dynamic, soothing space that naturally oscillates between focus, witness and pondering.
This emergent gift exists on the layer of the invisible blueprint. It is felt, not calculated. One may consider then, when placing a desk or study chair, what is its view? Does it evoke a natural ebb and flow for dynamic, sustained focus?
Invincible.
Walk slower than you would. Now, half that. And half that again. Until maybe, perhaps, you’re totally still.
A poem.
Be the poet, make the art, sit back and witness.
We sometimes need to pause to see.
Walk slower than you would. Now, half that. And half that again. Until maybe, perhaps, you’re totally still.
What’s wrong with her! They’ll say.
They’ll gnash their teeth at the pool of knowing inside you, unable to snag water with bladed bone.
Sometimes you’ll waver, like the ripples in your own pool. For nothing is solid, not even your knowing.
And that’s what makes it invincible.
Your knowing may have its moons, its waves, its froth but it never dries. Never brittle.
Your knowing is alive.
It stretches on like the ocean and beyond. A starry fathom further.
Standing still is the rebellion, is the walking toward, is the witness of all life.
The breath, bated, never ceases.
Tasting Spools.
Caress your fingers over unspun ideas.
A poem.
The muse hovers on my shoulder and kisses my cheek with her eyelashes.
She whispers in my ear.
Yum. Delicious is life and velvety is inspiration.
Caress your fingers over unspun ideas.
Enjoy them.
Explore the tangles of yarn. And if your heart beckons weave, then weave!
But know there is nothing wrong to simply taste the spools.
Lesson from a Lion.
Do not forget the basking in the sun.
A prayer.
“We lions are mighty creatures.
You admire us, but have you looked at how we spend our days?
We bask in the sun.
We nap.
We lay around and observe the world.
We blend into our surroundings.
And, when it is time to act, we act.
We have incredible physical strength and agility, but we use it only when the moment asks.
Do not become so obsessed with our actions, that you forget how our time is spent.
Do not forget the basking in the sun.”
We humans are so good at honing in on that moment of action. We are masters of pigeonholing the perception of ourselves and others to those slivers of performance.
Just because one cannot applaud you for basking in the sun does not mean it's not holy.
Just because no one saw you admire the red-winged blackbird does not make the act less noble.
Divinity can arise in a slow wave that no one needs to see.
Great achievement does not need to be touchable, readable, consumable, or articulateable.
By sharing in a moment with yourself, by sharing in a moment with the morning sun, you have shared with everyone and everything.