in the morning

lots of mornings lately

find me in the porch rocker

sipping warmth

predawn

bundled up

rocking

bird-listening

star-marveling

witness to light overcoming darkness

hopeful and humbled

unassuming

anything at all about the day to come

(perhaps already missing the night

just a little)’

gentling myself into morning

breathing deeply

the chilled air

sharing in

the awakening of birds and dogs and chickens

somewhere beyond, a woodpecker

knocking out a hallelujah – it’s a new day

and me

cherishing all the shades of blues or grays or pinks in one morning sky

just today

the world around me suddenly

clouded or misted or fogged

like some morning mystery

and softly, silently,

poetically

it began to snow

summer mandala

circle in peace

compassion

and remembrance

circle in unity, in solidarity

hands and hearts

and hopes

circle in times of challenge

in sorrow, in grief

circle in faith, in belief

in the frailty of being human

circle in meditation, in prayer, in promise

in fear

and courage

circle in the divinity of morning’s soft light

or the deepening grace of evening

circle n celebration of summer

and sun and warmth and flowers

circle in peace

spring mandala

Gather. Meditate. Center. Breathe.

Circles and cycles. Bud and bloom. Belief and doubt. Celebration and grief.

Faith.

Move inward, out. Outward, in.

Still. Sacred. Spiritual.

A revolution, a resolution, a plan, a path, a prayer.

A journey.

Start here. Or there.

No destination in mind or notice of arrival. Back where I began, here I am returned. Again. Both renewed and changed by the experience of the walk itself, a guarantee that no matter how familiar the path, I am in fact a different person than I was the last time I walked it.

Spring too, here again. Another spin around for both of us. So familiar, but so new and ever hopeful. Both transformed and transforming.

From the one to the many. From the many to the one.

Here, at last.

still life

Still life as meditation. I am this moment. Breathing. Lost in the layering, the filling of frame, the lilt of the light. This space.This delicate movement. This sculpture of light and shadow, form and feeling, vulnerability and hope.This me. Being. Seeking balance. Finding tiny miracles. The curve of a stem. The twist of a leaf. The passion of a petal. Assembled here. In the focus. In the breath. In the now. In the knowing. Still. Happy.

morning glory

I greet the day with a good morning salutation to my life. 

It’s a beautiful day outside my window, but my attention, my gaze is inward. A moving moment with myself, within myself, for myself.

I stretch. Slowly. Almost timidly at first. Loosen and limber my body, open my circulation, lift my face to the heavens.

Let go. 

Feet side-by-side and steady. I focus. Firm my base. Tether the possibilities in my day to the intention of this solid rooting. In this moment, I re-engage with the substance of me, the soul of me. I am tall. Undaunted. Strong.

I ballerina-arch my arms overhead. Both at once and then one at a time, an orchestration in a symphony of movement. Lean to one side, switch arms, and lean again opposite. Tilt my head to and fro. Nod yes.  Swivel no. 

Clasp my hands overhead and gaze upward. Step wide. 

A living, breathing, sign of peace.

Arms down. Palms up. I seek balance. Raise one leg behind me. Lower. Raise the next. Wobble. Steady. Wobble. Breathe in, out. In, out.  Accept the wobble. Accept myself. Understand my limitations and work within them. Sometimes noticing I’m holding my breath. Releasing it, I try again. And again. As many times as necessary.

Faithful.

Kneel. Cat. Cow. Cat. Cow. Arch. Collapse. Breathe in through the nose. Out through the mouth. Deepen. The. Stretch. Just. A. Little. Bit. More.

One part yoga, one part simple stretching, one part whatever feels good. 

My morning glory.