Spring

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I await, for their return. Hopeful, with anticipation. I pause, listening intently, in the in-between hours, knowing that, any dusk, or any dawn now, might be the one, when I will hear the first Flute-like song of the thrush. The reclusive thrush who have come home to nest once more.

The Spring rains have arrived, the streams run through all the forest floors as the grounds, soaked through with water, are ready for the growing season, and the forest floor is soft with wet duff - all creating a perfect ecosystem for their return.

Other things that have emerged overnight too, showing the map home ~ the coltsfoot bright yellow flowers, the Red maple buds which are beginning to fall, young nettles emerging quietly from the thawed ground.
And from the animals ~ the mourning doves court in circles, bobbing after each other like the flirtatious spring warmth. The amphibians practice the music of their lifetime, with a deafening call and response. And me? I pause, always with an ear out, waiting for the unmistakable song. Practicing patience.

Today, while drinking my tea, sweetened with the last drops of honey made from last summer's coltsfoot, I had additional reasons for gratitude. The bright beautiful blooms of the colstfoot has indeed returned in abundance. Last year, I had cried in fear of loss, when the road crew dug deep, with the appearance of attempting to plow out these beautiful plants. I hoped they would be resilient and reappear. I wasn't sure... And indeed, like anything you try to ignore or suppress, the more you attempt to eradicate, rather than embrace, the more they will rear their heads triumphantly and multiply. This year, the soft plants line the sides of the of my road like trumpeters announcing their triumphant return. Welcome back!!

Now, all there is left to do is wait for the thrush. We still have a few more weeks of cold nights, which may keep them quiet. Yet, maybe tonight, just maybe, with gentle rain moving in, maybe soon, I will hear the gift of their song. The song of the gentle thrush

Wishing you gentleness as the Spring gifts nourish and emerge. Namaste

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Snow and rain mingle on my roof this morning, arriving to bring A Surprising Spring Storm. Winter and Spring sing together, making an unusual yet quiet harmony. An a-cappella beat, in concert with the songbirds of Spring who still twitter and flit with their irrepressible vibrancy. The combination reminds me of the Thoroughly Magical life force of Spring. The ode plays on, and throughout the edges of the day. My yard today, gives the appearance of only winter~

The birds, the elementals, and the wind know better. We, like they, will ride this storm. Here and there are reminders of what secrets under today’s soft carpet of winter~
Below, are recent photos taken of moments reminding me of Spring. Whether they are of water moats around islands of snow, vernal pools, magnolia buds, daffodil leaves or maple flowers emerging I hope you enjoy these early messengers of magic ~

Namaste dear friends, Happy April storms to you. Let's ride this changing times with glee

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it all starts with the simplest ingredients
a peek into the cupboard ~
a few potatoes, some carrots, and a chunk of cheese,
the phase of the moon, the running of wild water, a lifting of the breeze~
all these elements arrive, combining in one particular moment...

and then suddenly, there is alchemy.
The imagination feels the spark of possibility and the weavings of the moment bring whispers of hope to the soul. Suddenly, one can ask, once more, surprising oneself, the question, "What, may I create today, with these ingredients, at this moment?" here it is - possibility unfolds ~ what can we offer, today, now, from the simplest ingredients of life.

it happens just like that. one moment, there is nothing, the emptiness, the silence. the void.
the next moment, something catches the eye, catches the imagination and our notice, and in streams ~ possibility flows through us like the waters of life. when I let my edges soften, when I look around, my eyes begin to notice ~ and slowly the elements mix bringing inspiration with opportunity. a spark ignites. impressions mingle and meld into an idea and flow into the pot of life before me.

it is a random place to start. this moment. when magic and opportunity spread into fractals of shapes and vectors, when memories, feelings and desire all create motion. such an seemingly inconspicuous moment. and yet....

i root around in the cupboards hoping, trusting actually, that my hands will find the right spices to add, the joyous stroke of color to blend, the right words to speak, the beautiful notes to sing. Soon, I discover the inspirational treasures that I will add to the cauldron of life.

The winds blow softly and gently today. The colors mix with light. The light sparkles in prisms on the droplets hanging from the trees, the places where the sweet life-giving water last and linger. Smiling, I notice that the boiling water simmers the potatoes in my soup already; the red shouldered hawks circle overhead in diagrams of infinity, laughing, like gulls, and announcing their return, laughing, as if in the joy of the here and now. The sun peeks through the clouds. This moment reminds me that now is full of the miraculous, it surrounds me~ I catch the wind today and I fly.

Somehow, Equinox has arrived, today! Today, we move from the waters of Piscean dreams to the fire of Aries momentum. Happy balancing to you. If you like to read more, I wrote a little on seasonal event which you can find with this link : Seasonal Happenings

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The air is fresh, the light enchanting, the elemental magic inspirational. I want to write about the transporting beauty I find here. Instead, I must be present to a different influence pressing on me today ~ my heart knows sadness, the place between, the uncomfortable grey edgy unknown of stillness and loss. Of expectations ground to a halt. Of being stopped midstream. When the form of what I love, leaves.

I notice during these moments, that I tend to hold my breath. As if the act of delaying the next inspiration, might improve the result. That by abstaining from breathing, I might decrease pain, or better yet, Never feel it. As if the more I can put the receiving of life on pause, the less pain I might feel. Despite this response, our path of living in a sentient body does not work that way. The longer I resist the gift of breath, the greater the experience of discomfort in my chest and body. As any natural numbness wears off, my body will indeed begin to feel. The longer, I delay this breathing into the pain, and exhaling to this moment, the worse I will feel. I can attempt to desist from it all, I can put feeling on pause, or shield myself from life itself; yet experience has taught me ~ This Won't Work. The longer I refuse the healing flow of living waters of breath, the more despair of life I will experience.

I notice during these times, how I often hold my chest still, forcing my body to refuse the connection to life. Yet, the tears I withhold sting and fester, the attempt to suspend all sense, causes my chest to ache more with the pressures. Now, is the time to surrender and allow in the abundance of life force residing all around me in the form of breath

Today, instead of avoiding the sadness, and the gift of life, I choose to breathe.
I breathe in the greyness around me. The heaviness of clouds above me. I breathe in the sense of pain and I release the unshed tears.

During the moments when no Sun appears to lift the spirits, no rain falls to soothe the heart, when it seems impossible to ever feel enjoyment of the light again, when questions of how/why seem louder than gratitude/wonder, and the pain creates a louder no, than the yes, still, I choose to breathe. To allow for the healing of inspiration and access to my soul, to let her divine presence return me to the dreams of my heart.

The pain is felt, the tears transform, the heart is softened, and though in pain, I feel less ache. Trust your heart; trust that your body, soul, breath and sound are enough. The tools of breath and sound are enough to express the unfathomable life that unfurls in mystery with endings and beginnings.

I read recently that there is something called Yin Water. While a lake and a body of water is tangible and beautiful, these are not Yin water. Yin water is the falling of snow, the mist that drifts, the spray on the wind. The tears that dry. This is the divine kissing our lives with the ineffable. This is a reminder of the ephemeral nature of spirit in form We need this. Let the tears flow, the mist moisten, the waters nourish.

The yin that nourishes, changes us and our world.

Outside my window at work, I may have mentioned, stands an ancient Sugar Maple. This aging tree... has only years in its counting left. This spring, the tree seems to know this and has started to bleed sap out of the trunk, creating a short sweet icicle. Creating sweetness in the sadness. I drink in this life. I drink in my time to share its beauty with you.

So much love.

For Luke and for those we remember, and the times when their spirit and matter danced with us.
Thank you and we love you forever

There are more short pieces of writing that describe other events in this Northeast lands. If you want to read more, the most recent piece is in link here: Seasonal Happenings. <3

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"Everything begins in the dark
the same miracle that splits open the seed's heart,
splits open mine" Excerpt by Elise Stuart

A Pileated woodpecker knocks, knocks knocks on a hollowed tree. This early riser assiduously drills into the nearby tree, a rhythm unique to his liking, and asserting the discovery of excellent habitat full of potential for summer adventures and the raising of young.

The beat repeats throughout the morning, giving me the impression that this bird knows something about Spring's imminent arrival, despite the 6 inches of wet, spring snow that will arrive soon to coat twig and limb with blessings of white magic. This beatboxer is ready for love. Ready to shout out loud for all to hear.

I think I spy him in one of old beaches, lingering near the tippy-tops.

I laugh and inform him that he wins the prize this year, for the First woodpecker to announce the arrival of Spring. I have heard Chickadees calling out a mating song, and, as I wrote elsewhere, once a mourning dove cooing out a tentative trill. This is the first woodpecker.

The rhythm makes me curious to find other signs of Spring awakening in the woods. I want to discover any that may hide under the heavy snow, or at the tree tops. The playful season can come in mysteriously, and I like to see the first signs. Indeed, I found them : The waters are irrepressible now, feeding from deep aquifers, they bubble up mellifluously, gurgling and babbling along under the snow, in these hills. Above me, I can see that the willow has the barest hint of yellow on the swaying branches. Soon the light will turn these branches a golden yellow. And, in some areas, the ice floes are melting, and the rivers opening.

These are the outward signs that the inner fires of Spring awaken, within the Earth, within ourselves. Spring pushes up and out like a green shoot through frozen ground, like our dreams. Nature is beginning to feel the first initial loosening and unfettering of freedom. Asking us to drum up the song of our dreams. The beat of our hearts.

I listened again more closely, to the rhythm of this Pileated, wondering what might the words be that he taps out so diligently. What does he say to me?
These are the words I hear ~

Listen to your heart. There is a music and a beat there, bubbling up like Spring, no matter how grey or dark the day. No matter what storms may come.
Listen to your heart's truths and believe them. No matter how preposterous they may seem, no matter how different they feel from the norm of your day, or how your environment may contradict them.
Listen to the heart and visions of hope ~ the whispers may not be as loud as the storms and tempests that swirl and threaten, still they carry the power of life. They come from the eternal

Transitions of any kind cause disruptions as change moves up and out, like water through the permafrost. This powerful movement may shift the ground on which we stand, let us adapt, flow and grow.

The predicted snow does start falling now, and sticks thickly to each burgeoning bud. The beauty is like magic. Like the season.

In Celtic traditions, tonight starts the celebration of Imbolc which is a seasonal moment of the year, halfway between solstice and equinox. It celebrating the gifts brought with the increasing daylight
One can celebrate with fires, and greenery which reminds us that all around us the earth, the creatures and elements are responding with life. They reflect the inner awakening that unfolds within ourselves.
Some suggestions for celebration ~ light candles, cook with aromatic herbs (rosemary, bay, lavender, sage,) and plant seeds of new intentions for the coming season.

Thank you and so much love

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The stream that runs toward my door twinkles in the morning light. Shimmering in a path to me, reflecting the ways of the day, showing me the path of life and living.

I see the sparkling trail traveling above the ground here and there, with occasional disappearances when the waters move underground to deeper terrains. The unseen trails carry the waters through deep hidden caverns, for future reference, holding this bounty as reservoirs of knowledge, and experience, revealing themselves when least expected, and most needed.

Just before the yurt, the waters re-emerges, from a bubbling underground spring, carrying life-nourishing silt along as a passenger now. Mud.... Mmmm ~ Primordial life, feeding all life. Feeding me within and without. Life-giving waters arriving to me today here and now, at my door.

I drink deeply from this drought of life. All love and light shimmering before my eyes and also in my eyes.

Water, like love, is a many shaped miraculous wonder. Neither graspable for formable. Not one thing, nor another, Always both. Both matter and light, both shaped and shaper, both formed and forming. Always All-ways. Always possible, and always miraculous. Both one and many. Water and love elude beginnings and endings. Starting everywhere and going all directions. Perhaps one can say, never ending, always beginning.

I will rest, today, in the center of this twinkle.
My heart bursting its seams as the waters flood me. I break open to embrace the call.
Singing the path of love and lover,
As Both creation and undoing.

I rest in the center of this light, accepting that not even these words written here, can express the whole of it, neither the pain of love when it lands in the heart, nor the unbearable moment of love stretching the soul's path, nor the beauty of the undoing that occurs in one single moment of standing in the Presence of Love...

For now, I receive this grace, with grace. I sit, watching and drinking, as the waters travel by my door, on their path to the Unseen. Traveling here, before the stream finds new trails, moving towards the deeper woods, feeding unknown future reservoirs, offering love, life and freedom along the way.

The light of the stream moves me into the shimmering fire, as vessel and song, as love's spark and fire.

As the miracle and many-fold blessings of this life, Welcoming home

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As far as I can tell, the trees seem unaware that there is a pandemic going on. The trees, and for that matter, all of Spring appears to be going about their business of Spring with full gusto: The sap flows up through the trees to any tip it can find, the flowers bud; the Spring arrivals trill and chirp, flitting around getting on with their mating dance; the owls call gloriously celebrating their convocations in pre dawn hours; mud alchemizes into grass. In short, all seems well in the woods.

As I generally look to the trees for daily guidance, taking my cue for living from these wise elders, I wonder to myself this Spring, how can my life reflect their joy and splendor? Answers come fast, and arrive as follows~

Trust~
Trust my resilience, to be strong and flexible, to respond and adapt and still laugh with joyful life force
Reach for the light wherever and however it shows up. Even if one must grow sideways. Simply reach, destination unimportant.
Send my roots deep into the abundant earth. Now, is a time of plenty. From these roots, one finds stability, nourishment and support.
Reach out to friends, neighbors and community. And for a tree, community is global. Who knows who needs a wave of a smile.
Dance and sway to the unseen, the music of the spheres and wind.
Send one's light out to the cosmos, knowing the web of life connects us by the very breath we breath and the atmosphere that contains us.

Those answers feel wise choices when many could be feeling fears of lack, or isolation. I pray that I, like the trees and wind, feel the grace of connection, not the despair of isolation. So... like the trees, I aim to embrace abundance, laugh and sing, and clap my hands often.

“For ye shall go out with joy,
And led forth with peace:
The mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing,
And all the trees of the field shall clap their hands." (book of Isaiah)

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The wistful smell that drifts in the wind from the Spring Lilacs
Pierces through my mind's defense
Awakening a memory~

That beauty could outlast despair
That laughter could free and uplift hearts
That adventures could end in cozy comfort
With memories that nourish
That Now could befriend a centered heart
That hope could land with Love

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In light of Trees has returned once more as an outlet for musings. I am thrilled to feel its possibilities. I hope to continue the channel here, of the conversations with the Divine Spirit that moves in all of us, that Inspires us with breath of life. Initially, in the early writings, the conversations stemmed exclusively from my relationship to trees and wind. Now, I hear and relay the whispers from many forms of life.

Today's inspiration came from the writings of Robin Wall Kimmerer and from her love of moss. Many phrases are direct quotes from her book ~ Gathering Moss. I have so much gratitude for her work and perspective; she is a wise teacher. Her work inspired the following, which feels like a message from Moss to me

In "An Affinity for Water" in Gathering Moss, (which reads like a poem,) I felt parallels in my life, and with my own affinity to water~

Dendroalsia:
This mossy sponge, this "companion of trees" drips a constant flow of water down the bark of Oaks to their roots, relinquishing water when an overflow exists. The slow release feeds the earth, adding to the communal well for nourishment of all life
This nourishing flow of manna, "fills the soil's reservoir for the Summer ahead. Yet, by August, the mossy carpets begin to dry and shrivel, becoming wiry skeletons." They appear lifeless, they are actually awaiting their renewal and their time of rebirth.

Kimmerer writes that the "atmosphere is possessive of its water," and moss in turn exerts its own pull. Like a jealous lover, it holds on as tightly as possible to the water ~ in curves, curls and folds and shapes of its surface. With its form, the moss invites water to linger, reside, make a home at its core.

It made me so happy to realize, as I read this, that something else beside me is also tied to the comings and going of water. I love the blessings of a good rain, which nourishes my soul with laughter, companionship, conversation, hope, aliveness. In the atmosphere of it's embrace, I feel new life, I feel participation and joy in the web of life. And like moss, when the moisture returns to the atmosphere, it's other home, I can feel dull, shriveled and, yes, lifeless. I too, like a jealous lover, seek to have the nourishment of water stay, mist my life, my days, my dreams, my wrinkled skin with its nourishment longer. I want to hold onto these cherished moments, asking the life of water to linger, to stay. Unlike moss, I do not relinquish these moments gracefully. I do not have the knowing for this patience, yet.

This kind of impatience makes it difficult to accept the transitions of life around the medicine wheel of time with ease. Unlike moss, I can forget that the apparent lifelessness, is indeed appearances only, that the shifting of its presence is a natural cycle akin to breathing in and out, to expansion and contraction, to give and take. I practice this surrender these days as life shifts and changes; I practice surrendering to the greater wisdom of Spirit. I practice allowing, awaiting divine timing of the manna of rain to return once more.

To help the practice, I make a list of attributes of moss to emulate:
Acceptance, patience, surrender
Allowing for the vagaries of Change
Surrendering to natural cycles,
Surrendering to the ways of water,
Gratitude for the cycles of the web
Acceptance that Dessication is part of the path

Acceptance... to a deeper knowing. Moss reminds me that there exists a deeper mystery, unseen in the cycles of contraction and expansion. It is my mind that values one over the other. It is my fear that I will lose should the blessed nourishment of rain cease; It is my fear that there is not enough Here, Now. It is my fear that I will cease to exist without it's presence. It is my fear of death, that says, "no, this can't be right," that wants my timing. The amount of energy my mind uses to convince me that something must be wrong when the waters recede is exhausting!!

What if Nothing is wrong? Mooji says that believing something is wrong, is one of the tricks that the mind plays to keep us tied to it. What if I began to see the dry period as a wonderful, refreshing quiet time allowing for replenishment of a different kind? What if the quiet allows for insight into the deeper mysteries of the Whole, and the wonder at that whole? And what if that wonder frees me?
What if this practiced surrender actually frees me to experience my life more fully? Freedom earned through total Surrender. What if being like moss is a gift of freedom?

When the rains do come, one drop at a time, it is, indeed, enough to start the transformation. Even after 40 years of dehydration, One drop will transform the apparent lifelessness of moss into turgidity. Once again they will swell, unfurl, grow green and resplendent. Once hydrated they can participate in transforming light and air into sugar. Their activity restored they can participate in creating sugar for their survival, and renewal. They participate again in the giving back to the earth.
To moss, desiccation is simply a pause in activity, not a death
Desiccation is a breath, a rest
Dry periods and the change it brings are part of the whole.

I will probably always revel in the free flowing gifts of water. It is my nature to love the freedom of movement and flow, dancing ever with the moving elements.
Yet life brings needed pauses
If I, like the moss can learn to allow for these pauses without resistance what freedom it would also bring for exploration.
If I can accept changes in my environment, accept the divine timing, knowing I will once more swell to my part in the web of life with the coming rains, I will better enjoy the renewal of quiet, and the wonders of transformation that it brings.
This path would lay the groundwork for my own cycle of renewal, refreshment and joy.

I seek the wisdom of moss to accept, unfurl and relinquish all with grace. Grace in the humility of a plan much greater than mine; In a plan that is mysterious, and generous; In a plan that incorporates the blessing of the whole and allows for all dreams to come to fruition in their beautiful design

Dendroalsia: This mossy sponge, this "companion of trees", drips a constant flow of water down the bark of the oak to the tree root

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I awaken early these last few days to pray with the Thrush as they sing in our woods.  Their gentle song accompanies my paintbrush with filigree and delight. I feel I am in the woods with them honoring the Spirit of the Forest.

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The other night, just past dusk (one of my favorite times of the day), I was walking through the forest.  The wind was noticeably absent, creating a deep quiet. The light was present enough to see the contrasts.  Color was almost, but not quite gone. Each trunk, outlined, tall and clear was so Very Visible to me as both individuals beings and an individual expression of something larger.  A soft muted glow existed in the surrounding space from the translucent light of the new leaves. I felt as though I was seeing the Forest of tree beings for the first time - with both their individual and interconnectedness selves present. The muting grey and shading of the growing dark contributed to this sense.  As I paused to admire this interconnectedness, I felt a sound.  It pulled on my cellular being.  The sound moved through the body up and skyward.

I felt it first in my heart chakra and then the third eye and crown.  It created movement within. This "sound" had a feel to it.  Was it an expression of that moment in time, and from those trees? Was I singing too on that level? I wondered how we might harmonize with this "song".  How might my song sing in tune to their song?