• ~ Birch Leaf Falling Day!! ~ •

The golden Autumn light swirling in free fall
Alighting the moment with alchemy
Bringing light and life
Releasing her burdens gently, in a cascade of motion.

The Birchtree, along with all the trees are releasing their leaves now,.
And with this they turn the dial up on Beauty!

The fire within the trees decorates the air raucously, audaciously, and in brilliance ~ dancing unapologetically, and without reservation or shyness, knowing that soon their efforts will bring complete transformation to the hillsides. Surrendering to life and death.
There is a mistiness today, perhaps called by the trees, to compliment the canvas that arrives with the misty coolness, and just in time; the moisture washes the dust off the mirror of my soul. And, the wind has joined the party today, creating mirth and helping the trees to release by blowing the leaves tumultuously into the air.

The Earth, the blessed kind Earth, receives this Golden Abundance with open arms. The tree blow their kisses to earth, and the leaves lay themselves gently on her, blanketing her gentleness with the mantle of their love.

Here, in the forest, the elements are In LOVE with each other! Unabashedly, unashamedly, freely, raucously in love. That which started as an idea within the Earth, last February, returns to her once again, completing the cycle of magic.

This alchemy, which the trees play in, is a relief of balance; a hint of forces unseen, a balance of inbreathe and out, a demonstration of the living yin and yang, or mysteries I can only begin to dream of.
I seek and study this balance where elements may interact and flow with ease within the whole, where there resides a home for All of life. The trees and forest create a playground of diversity, an expression of laughter, a unity in alchemy and disorder, an experiment in the expression of the many to the bring the song of the One to creation.

Also, I notice that the elements of fire, water, air, earth and wind interact in variable amounts in any given moment in nature. And occasionally, each is given free opportunity for full and outrageous expression. That moving dance of the elements may look a little like this~

Starting with Autumn, as that is the season I am in, I can see that the season infuses the very air with its Fire, I am drawn to the intense colors of red, orange and yellow. Then there is an urge within me to rise and greet the Winds. The moving Air delights in tossing the leaves off the trees, swirling them up, up, up up, until at some unseen point, they are released, allowing them to dance their way back down to Earth. The winds of late Autumn can also stir up more than leaves, when darker storm clouds arrive, bring needed Water and other swirling stories.

Some days, the trees call in the Waters in such quantity ~ great rains and snows that steep their roots, soaking deep into the Earth; during these days, it can feel that no fire will ever feel possible again.

During these days, when not any of the summer fire or fire of life can be felt or remembered to this one human, I seek inner ground, knowing if the trees can do it, so can I. And then, at last, arrives the Winter quiet, when all is still and deep, like the thoughtful restful Earth herself. This time nourishes and grounds me.

Eventually, the early Spring Sun begins to warm the Earth, initially with a quiet fire, allowing life to emerge above from deep underground ground. Then, we all emerge washed in Spring Rains, ready for new dreams, new hope, new Fire. Spring with its own inner balance of elements will lead us to the next season and on...

The ever shifting balance of inner and outer elements expresses itself through this day. All elements dancing together in life, bringing life.
So much more can be said about this moving cycle and the whole~ How blessed I am to have such wise, persistent teachers. In this dance, the forest turns on in the great Wheel of life with grace, majesty, and above all Beauty.

I was hesitant to write this post in a time when elements rage so painfully in other forests, when precious beauty seems lost in burning fires. Still, I hope if I follow the example of the trees and learn to balance my own inner elements, perhaps it may bring greater balance without. Below are the questions I have found in these days to address my own path, my balance (or imbalance) and my moving dance.

My fires that burn within, How can I toss and swirl with them, expressing them safely, allowing them to burn until the lessons are learned?
The rains that soak me with grief, How can I welcome them to nourish and cool me?
The winds that toss and bend me, How can I sway flexibly with them, surrendering to them and laughing as a falling birch leaf?
The blankets of quiet and stillness on solid ground, How can I welcome and embrace this now with the nourishing rest it gives?

Those are my musings for now, on elements and balance. I am sure more will arrive, but I wish to post this blog before it gets any longer!
One more quote from a wise one~

"If the storm has already arrived and your heart is too sad to dance, just wait. Let the sound of rain soothe you. Catch storm water. Touch the Earth."
Leah Whitehorse

Also, the Venus Muse page is alive and well, with new writings, if interested, here is the link: https://inlightofthetrees.com/venus-muse/

From an excursion out at night:
The sun is behind a thick layer of clouds tonight. Clouds and Fog. A gift.
A gift to be surrounded by so much moisture. I came up the mountain to watch what would unfold. To be with the All.

As I sit on the rock, to watch the fog roll across the trees and close hills, a wind shifts, allowing the bank to lift seamlessly, effortlessly, revealing a vision of orange and pink, colors outlining an opening in the distant clouds. A glowing pink of cloudness, backlit by a setting sun. It is an opening that had been invisible, hidden behind fog, and now seen and held in this moment of time. The fog parts long enough to reveal the existence of Light. Then fog dances quickly back into place, like a wave of the ocean, tossing and rolling in its own destiny, in its own timing.

My camera does not quite catch the clarity of outline and light revealed. So I inhale and watch. And then, to my surprise and awe, a flash of lightening lights the same distant cloud. Then another, and another, lighting up the far bank of gray. And then joining me to witness the display of light in the dark, arrives a lone Night hawk who flies a few feet over my head on her mission; she graces me too with increased awe, as she flies on, in her own path.

Oh, Yes

Oh, Great Spirit, thank you. And may I remember this moment, this glow, this throbbing pink of clouds, this gift. May I remember that hope lies beyond the fog, like a warm ray of sunshine breaking through all doubt. May I remember my own throbbing heart in the midst of the unseen. Shine on, shine on dear heart. Shine on in the dark. Your shining, is my light for my flight.

(This is the closest image of those clouds as seen by my camera)

"Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last!!
What a task
to ask

to ask of anything, or anyone,

yet it is ours,
and not by the century or the year, but by the hours."
from Snow Geese, by Mary Oliver

The birds quiet. I hear sweet reminders of them as they search for food, and sing to the dawn, and to life itself. And I know that their stay in my homelands is winding down. I pause often, to listen; I pause because in my historic body, I know that I feel their leaving and will miss them. I seek to appreciate, rejoice, relish and celebrate every single second I have with them before they migrate South.

It seems, that every year, when they lift off and fly to their winter homes, when the winds of time and Spirit call then on, I notice their absence keenly; I will feel that moment within like a bell announcing an ending.

Yes, this time of year also brings many other gifts. Autumn harvests and brisk nights. Still, in my heart, I also feel the pang of grief and of loss, as these Summer messengers leave their summer grounds, and head for their winter homes.

That day approaches, it may even have already begun for certain species.

In some indigenous languages, different birds have different functions, to call in the rain, or sun, to bring life and renewal. To the traditional Q’eqchi’, bird vocalization are communications with the mountain-valley gods themselves. Bird songs and calls reflect prayers, praises, thanksgiving, announcements, and omens. As servants of the divine, birds bring revelations. I feel that reverence and service with them and from them, in the waking dawn, the bright day, and the quieting twilight

So I listen closely. Now, here, is the chirping of the thrush deepening in the earlier twilight, the busy buzz of the hummingbird siblings diving for flowers and feeder to "fatten up" before their long flights south, and the whining of the catbird calling their young home. Many songs do indeed still drift in my open door at dawn and twilight. Soon it will be quiet and still.

When that day arrives, and chill of winter knocks, I will embrace a different music. Today, it is the songs of the birds I seek. And for the day when they lift off, following their own call, I will sing this prayer for them~

Goodbye Sweet birds, for now,
I will scribble messages in the sky for your to read as you fly
And I will look for messages from you.

May you find and follow the bliss of your heart
May the Angels travel with you
And bring you Safe winds and safe landings

I still,
And, I look forward to when
You Sail home
and your songs fill the gardens
of my heart once more.

I spotted one.

It was alone and fluttering in the zinnia bed, this traveler seemed rather slow, and looked a bit bedraggled. Perhaps it had traveled far on its journey North, to plant the seed for the next generation. It was, as you may have guessed, a Monarch.

This particular traveler brought me a ray of hope, offering the possibility that she or he heralded the arrival of many more to come, soon. The band of travelers that will bring the needed effusion of hope in times of change, and remind us all so powerfully, of the miracle of life, and rebirth, of the power of perseverence, hope and determination, and the power to fly free on a journey to parts unknown for a larger purpose. The symbol of this traveler runs deep in our spiritual lexicon. I look out for it.

As I understand the process, the Monarch leaves Mexico in early Spring and heads north. These emissaries have already lived 8-9 months to make this venture. After they travel north, they lay the first eggs for this round of the summer generations who will travel north. The ones that make it my door are apparently the fourth (or fifth?) grandchildren of the ones that left here last Fall, and left Mexico this Spring. Apparently, the last hatch of the summer have special powers: In addition to knowing, somehow, to fly south, they live longer, 8-9 months (not 2-4 weeks), their wingspan is bigger to help them manage the challenges of the flight, and survive against all odds, and I think they have a deeper orange color. This last generation has a special name ~ The Super Generation

I have images from Last Fall of their epic numbers when the caterpillar count was so large that many stands of milkweed were reduced to stalks in fields. And oh, the monarchs that emerged from the chrysali. Oh their wings, that glowed so brilliantly orange, so proudly shining, and ready to meet the challenges ahead of the long miles.

That was last year.

Where are they now? Will they still come? Will they have time to mate, lay the eggs for that special generation, grow fast and then emerge from chrysalis as butterflies? I hope so. Perhaps they know something I don't. Perhaps it has been too hot, dry or.. something.

I hope, the super generation emerges someplace, and once more flies free in great abundance.

In solidarity with the Monarch, and their ability to survive against all odds, and in hope for their future survival. I will leave the milkweed in my garden. I will, like them, listen to my calling and fly in integrity on my path believing in the impossible in the midst of great winds of change, despite obstacles and the distance needed to travel to my homeland. I will, despite the trials, glory in the flight and glow in the light as best I can, believing that my small effort and the efforts of a few will make a difference. Will make The difference for the future generations to come.

I will hold solidarity, belief and hope in their eternal symbol of joy, transformation, and freedom.

It has been hot this summer. Perhaps they know something I don't. Perhaps they know that more auspicious conditions will arrive soon; and perhaps those conditions will be the perfect ones to help co-create the generation needed to meet the tests and challenges ahead. I pray for this to be true.

Aho, and Bless you Spirit of Monarch.

~ Also, I want to let you know that the website will not alert you of posts added to the Venus page. For your convenience, I add the link here to that page is https://inlightofthetrees.com/venus-muse/ ~

August brings transitions. My nose can smell Autumn in the air. It may be something the leaves give off, and the gentle winds carry it to me. How ever it arrives, it signals a time to slow down. I move from the super productivity drive of June and early July, into Supreme Molasses Mode. 

I do not flow as fast, motivate as fast, nor rise to any need as fast. I feel ready to sit, ready to watch sunsets, ready to wonder at the growing insect population and ready to read. Even if there are many things still on my do list, as there are, or many things one might DO in the present moment, I find little inkling to do them.

My garden's aesthetic does, as a result, suffer ~ weeds grow faster than a caterpillar eats. Snails make patterns in my collards that I try to read like tea leaves. I don't mind though; unless it truly matters, I just move my chair over, and give the growing plants the space they desireto thrive in the hot sun. 

It is also, alas, the end of harvesting of some of my favorite desserts ~ wild raspberries! They become a rare treat now. I did just spy one this morning which melted in my mouth into divine elixir. Ahhhh.

The focus of my daily herb gathering also shifts: Elderflowers finished long ago, the St john'swort produces only a few flowers that I leave for the bees' dining, and most yarrow plants are starting to turn brown after the successful flowering season winds down. Well, I remind myself, there Are other gifts to enjoy; no need to gaze wistfully at the passing of the seasons ~ Such a human trait to resist change, and resist adjusting to the new bounty that the present moment offers; and instead to get stuck in a groove of past patterning, so well rutted that it we find it difficult to move with the abundant now. Well, I acknowledge the gifts of the past, and remind myself of the present ~ After all, calendula is just coming into stride, sunflowers, boneset and blue vervain also rise bountifully above the fray of weeds. 

Even in my slower pace, I do have a moment of worry. What if I didn't collect enough for my medicine chest? Do I have enough for the needs of winter chills and colds alike? I ask. myself that every year.... Genetic fears die hard, and resulting panic can momentarily overcome even the deepest of August's inertia.

As I write, trying to describe this August pace, I wondered about possible synonyms for the slowness I feel. My search resulted in words that offer only negative connotations- "laziness," "indolence," "apathy," even "decreased mental acuity." 

Of course, a culture that does not reward its members for pausing, or resting or getting adequate sleep, of course it does not applaud slowing down to the pace of August. It would not acknowledge the rewards of pausing when gardens can tend for themselves, winds slow to a quiet touch, insects drone one to drowsiness and heat requires welcome siestas.

I want a language that celebrates this time, that celebrates rest, and renewal and rebirth. I want language that opens to the possibilities inherent in pausing and listening and inherent in unwinding and relaxing. Language that celebrates bounty and beauty with slow appreciation. What new words can I give to this pace? How about the pace of fecundity? The flow of an eddy, the current of snail? How about the breath of rest, the smile of appreciation? How about deep rest?

That is the natural pace of my August, watching, listening and wondering.
Oh, right, I have some harvesting I ought to do... I will get to it eventually
Perhaps when the eddy circles back around toward that goal. For now, I want to rest a little more. How are you feeling this August? Are there new words you can ascribe to your senses and the receiving of the bounteous now? I would love to hear.

Hot sun
Cool mornings,
Still air
Expansive skies.
Green light
Hurricanes
Sudden shifts

Cricket nights.
Night air,
Moving sounds
Vibrating air
Rhythmic beats,
of cycles, insects and time.

Those snippets describe my August. The breezes rise and fall. The stillness slows me, to a pause, to notice longer and listen deeper. Pause. Wonder, Pause, listen. Pause again. The occasional thickness in the air causes me to question, stumble into my shadow and doubt, and then, oh so easily, crumble.

Then, just as quickly the mood shifts. The gentle breeze rustles the leaves; the living moving air lifts my spirits, the passing shadow of a cloud transforms into a reminder of companionship and cooling comfort. The shining stars and planets remind me of, and reflect my light.

~Hot days and cricket nights~
~Quiet motion
~Rustling leaves
~Conversations on gentle breezes
~Motions slow to the pace of my heart.
~Believing in gentleness and love
~on the currents of the whispering wind.
~Reminding me of the truth of oneness,
~reflected in the lens of Nature's All.

I breathe, pause, listen and flow with the pace of my heart, once more

Predawn off Boston Harbor, seen by a friend.

I was all set and ready to post another blog about July winds, especially since the last post was all about water, when the astrological posts alerted me to a new comet that can be seen now, in the Northern Sky. Ahh, timely cosmic gifts in times of such transition, we are finishing an eclipse season, retrogrades are ending, portals are opening, and now a new visitor to add ice-cream to the table of delights!

We can view this beautiful visitor about an hour after sunset from now until July 22. It was recently a predawn visitor, until it disappeared behind the sun. It survived that close encounter with the sun and now passes on to other vistas, universes, and adventures. Not all comets do survive this passage behind the sun. I remember one that never emerged on the other side... Well, we are blessed this time with success

Pam Younghans reports that during the passing of a comet, flashes of insight can come quickly. One must write it down quickly, or it may leave just as quickly. So the following is my muse from this morning flashes of intuition. I encourage all to listen to this wise guest.

~A sparkling showering tail delivers cosmic essence to all ki passes. Offering tales and stories and insights from other worlds and universes. Describing harrowing adventures like ones of swinging around tight orbits of great suns and surviving the fire. How like a troubadour of ages past does this sound, when such visitors would enter a new village, bringing songs of inspiration and experience to those who would listen. Leaving many blessed behind on her path to the next door. How, to those listening, her passage, her gifts and essence must have felt like new life itself.

When a minstrel arrived from parts unknown, their stories, ways of life, and appearance may have been embraced fondly or disdained and scorned. Regardless of the type of welcome, these troubadours left the places they visited changed. Their tales emerged from their very being, from the alchemy of their essence, and continued on, even after they left to "other worlds."

The message changed the listener, and each listener heard a different message. So too with this cosmic messenger, it will disseminate cosmic dust to all with various experiences and various news. The news may be welcome, or threatening, shifting foundations. However it is experienced, the new perspectives may help the listener approach their lives with newness~ new insight, new wisdom and new life.

I had a strange thought as I write, if we exist as distinct from the universal, only as we engage in relation to other, does a comet exist when not in relationship to a planet? OH! Now, I catch my earth-centric-ness. How many planets this comet has to embrace and grace on the path ahead!!!! Ahh, again, like a troubadour, leaving behind one village, only to know there will be other villages, other worlds somewhere, someplace ahead in which to shine and sing. Lovely, shine on, cosmic visitor, I sit entranced to hear your song.

I end with this poem~
Dear friends,
A gift
for you, for me.
Sparkling essence
from my eternal source of being,
Served to spread and land as it will
The essence unchanged
the cosmic trail a gift in time
That sprouts for all,
A newness in you a newness in me.

.~.

Also the Venus muse is still functioning as a place in which I explore values and transformation. As Venus soon leaves her retrograde shadow, I will continue on it with only a slightly different focus. Blessings to all of you https://inlightofthetrees.com/venus-muse/

Thunder sounds 'crickety' off in the distance; I see those thunder heads rising in the East. The western sky holds blue spaces still, allowing for the sun to peak through and shine a luminous glow on the tops of the trees that encircle my garden. These thunder heads are very welcome to me today, offering a sign of hope ~ the rain they may bring would be a needed relief, refreshing the dry dusty air, cleaning the dust that has settled too long on my heart. I feel this dust everywhere ~ on my heart, my mind and skin, slowing the flow of all my processes ~ slowing the flow of emotions, communication, connections and more.

Oh do come rain, you are so welcome here, I will dance and sing for you; please clear the air of all this stress. Please clear the waterways to aid us all find the ways back to communicate from our hearts. Please clear the path to our watery souls that we may hear the whispers ever so much clearer. What direction, what truth is the path to love, what answer is the path of justice, where is the path to wholeness?- Wholeness as an individual and as a community.

This rain that may come, how it may pour and pour, to help relieve the clogged arteries. And it may feel overwhelming, frightening at first... Then it will feel so welcome and clear. Our skins will all be connected by moisture in that moment of a wholey drenched atmosphere. A sense of unity will truly lift my heart in joy. Even now, during this strange moment in time, a connection to the whole of the planet, may not be so distant....

The grumbling overhead is turning into the sounds of bowling balls now, rolling in the sky. I sure do hope the storm arrives; a good soak would feel just right about now. And The trees have been whispering about it secretively all day!

They always know, but truthfully, recently, these thunderheads have amounted to only sound and hot air, without the blessed release of water. Maybe that is why the winds only spoke in whispers today. They spoke quietly in order not to tell the opposition of the imminent arrival of the grace, of water herself.

Now, such a clearing of air and mind, one that helps all breathe more easily and relaxedly, might overwhelm us at first, leaving us with sense of loss of control. Yet, I welcome it. Whatever may be left on the planet after such clearing and tumult, after such a thorough rinsing will have endured a true test, showing itself to be enduring and stable. I want for the true and real to unveil itself at last. I read once that hope is not belief in something far in the distance, but belief that there is something good right here, right now, already present in this moment moment.

Healing rain, oh, do come. Do bring your grace to this earth, your ability to weave the sky and the earth together into alchemical harmony; bring your abundance to fill her river ways with your laughing flow. Please, do bring the release of strife that this world so needs. Help us to flow and cry and laugh and breath once more.

Water~

There are many things that I can not smell. I know this is true for when my cat lifts his beautiful black nose to the unseen and unsensed wafts of scent that drift by, I smell nothing; I can only admire and trust some passing tale has informed his senses of its import. Oh, the stories the wind does tell....

Yet, there is One thing I Can smell. It is something that brings me so much joy, and refreshment. It cleanses my cells, lifts my weariness and brings me food for my soul ~ That is the scent of precious water.

I can smell this ambrosia in the wind when rain rides near, I can smell the gift as ki rises from the earth on the warming days. I can smell pure essence on my skin, towel, and hair after a refreshing dip in the swimming hole. Oh, I love it so. My lungs draw it in, inhaling deeply, drinking it like a food that nourishes some forgotten need, like a scent meant for my soul. Like medicine itself, I wonder if there could ever be too much. Perhaps there are indeed some things one never has too much of - a sense of presence, love, and the wind carrying the smell of water. There is a word it reminds me of~ amarita, meaning nectar of immortality. Perhaps it reminds me of primordial days living in moss. Perhaps my cells remember that lush environment.

In some cultures, water is seen as representative of the divine, embodying the watery soul herself. The other day, when I was on the river, the wind was dancing off the surface, agitating it enough to bring her moisture up to mingle with the air. AHH, delicious and smiling, I filled my lungs and started singing.

This moist wind also brought other admirers ~ swallows, who found that the wind kicked up plenty of reasons to dip, sway and rise in the unseen rhythms and tides of the wind. I think, when I started singing, their acrobatics became more illustrious, adding more dips and twirls to their repertoire. Perhaps they dancing to my song.

I also wonder, if the smell of water changes its energy as a reflection of the energy it encounters, in the same way water crystals freeze to different shapes based on the energy of the watcher- (See Emoto's studies of frozen water crystals) If so, then laughing with the water, singing songs of gratitude to the wind that brings the moisture, smiling in the sun that warms her and breathing presence on the earth that holds the water must surely enhance the energy and qualities precious moist air carries, making it indeed everlasting food for the soul.

Ahh, I smell it now, as I write. Precious presence of water, I thank you

Surprise Solstice gifts

My cat wakes me early, hoping I will join the day with the rising Sun.
I like the idea..
Sometimes

Today, I agreed, as today is a beginning of everything.
It is the first Full day of Summer, and as Solstice was less than 24 hours ago, I like to believe it is still Solstice, as the Sun continues to linger high in the sky a day or two longer, before her descent to winter light. As we meandered outside to the garden, before the heat met arrived, I kept finding strange webs crossing my path.

Looking more closely, I saw that each filament contained hundreds of baby spiders. Today is spider hatching day!!! Tiny, tiny spiders trailed on the delicate gossamer paths across my garden greens. Creating new stories, new paths, new possibilities

Infinite possibilities in that blessing on the first day of summer, creating new for all in this creation. Thank you, dear creation for providing such a beautiful morning surprise. (As some people with arachnophobia have intense reactions to pictures of spiders, I did not include these pictures.)

Blessings to all of you and all the World in our passage to new stories.

~Blessed Solstice to you all~

?⭐️☀️?