On the evening of the 40th day, a bell chimed. The sounding of a note. This note rang so quietly that it felt like the landing of a feather on still water, creating a gentle ripple. It came softly on the tail end of a surprising day; I heard the tone and smiled; I received the sound as the gift of his farewell.

I had been anticipating an event, a sign of some kind, something to mark the significance of the passage. Nothing unusual had happened yet on this day to commemorate it, until the arrival of this gentle chime, which breathed through the air to me, like an angel landing on my shoulder, offering a kiss, then flying to heaven. There was not a logical cause for the sound. My phone was off. I did not hit anything to create a chime. The sound came out of stillness. Well, perhaps, just maybe, an owl had landed on a branch outside, the very branch that also happens to holds a wind chime. And, in the landing, on this branch, the owl set off a sound wave, which reached me. Maybe this is true, and if so, she or he is also a remarkable guest to come with such treasures to lay before my heart. A guest, most welcome.

I had been readying for bed, picking up the detritus that inevitably accumulates on the yurt floor. I noted the alter of things he loved, and I was generally winding down before sleep. That was when I heard this quietest and gentlest of sounds. I knew that the tone was him, saying "I made it. My earth-time roaming is no more." The marking of the passage leaves me with peace and joy, because his happiness is so palpable.

How do we describe the essence of a magnificent being? Or the wonder of the light of one who warms our hearts from the inside out? When he left his beautiful physical form, I wrote, in my journal, these words, "I never wanted to write, that my beloved, the noble prince of the yurt, the jaguar of my heart, has passed on, to Spirit. Yet, I do write it, he resides now, in the forest of his home, in the wind that calls the trees, in the waters that travels through the earth, in the logs that bask in the warmth of the sun. He is amidst all these things he loved.

"My heart, my yurt, my song is quiet. And still I breathe. I listen for him in the morning. I imagine him returning home to warm by the fires. I laugh at the memories of his ways. His presence continues as a guide in the dark to help my roaming in the valley of grief. He is ever wiser than me, so I listen for and to him still; these visions of him comfort me"

In truth, his spirit has gifted me with many days of celebration, and this has surprised me - of connecting to new and old friends. Of laughter and hugs. It is as though he wanted me to focus on the joyful expression of life with fierce undivided attention.

He continues to beam his love in much of same the way he did in life. He is infinite, and peaceful. He is sparkling and everywhere. The 40th day felt surprising as it was a great sparkling light of a day. A day of joy, a day full of surprises and sun. A wonder and a playful twirl of chirpings. Just like him.

Perhaps where he goes, a part of me goes as well ~ so a part of me, like him, is infinite, playful, free. Our time, here, is so brief, his transition reminds me to enjoy this life, to embrace, to break open, to cry, to laugh, and to connect.

Grace continues to carry me along on a mysterious ocean current dredging up sediment from the ocean floor, that then in turn nourishes the wildlife living on the edge. I find that I dwell on this edge. I nourish myself from that which rises from the depths.

*

I write, a few nights later, about that magical night. As I sit, I hear the northbound train toning a soulful sound. Here, in this valley, the sound of the passing train makes harmonic resonances, like a calling back and forth of two musicians, calling out their greetings to each other as they pass in the night.

This night, the call weaves a winding thread between me and all the beings in these hills. The winding thread connects and unites us all to each other, just as the mysterious bell and my memories connect me to my beloved. An interweaving and interplaying through the tapestry. These sound waves remind me that those we love abide and abound in every atom of this life.

Feeling this connection again, I feel his joy of running with the wind, climbing in the trees nearby, watching the owls cast their nightly flights, pondering the passages of the stars, purring in the light. I catch sight of his soul preening in the moonlight and sunlight. He is an angel of Spirit chasing the sparkles within the dimensions, in a new and mystical form. This angel continues to repaint my world with currents and colors, sparkling in every snow flake and rainbow reflection; and in the whispers of the trees, I feel him smiling. My heart will know more tears, my mind may reel again in disbelief, and for now, at this moment, I feel gratitude for the living days with him, sure of his grace, peace and love.

So, my beautiful beloved feline, who has completed this magnificent song for now, who has toned a note into the ethers connecting us all to the love we are, to each other, I shall sleep now, hoping I may still occasionally catch sight of you in my dreams. Rest well. Be as free as the wind, gentle as the snow, Warm as the sun, soft as the rain, playful as the dancing leaf, content as the flowers - all this surrounds me, still, and reminds me of you, and of love.

A poem of Simple grace ~

Om ~ I bow to god within consciousness
Om ~ To the sound of the curl of wings in flight 
Om ~ to the light reflected in a thousand drops of dew
Om ~ to the beauty within, and its reflection without.
Om ~ to the sound of falling snow
that lands like a blanket on our awakening land.
Om ~ to the mystery within
and the moving light across the seas of time
Om ~ to the stretching of a smiling cat
Om ~ I bow to the mystery that is life.

I awoke this morning wonderfully giddy, and as I turned to greet the day, my head began to spin and whirl, as though my brain could not grasp the physics of now, the point of the here and center. How Do I arrive at stability? My stomach began to churn with the effort of finding this illusive balance point. It felt as though my brain, and body, and feet were all in a whirling dance going in different directions, all while attempting to simultaneously catch up with one another.

I remember learning in a science class ages ago, that the distance between any two points can always, always be halved. And, with that understanding, the inference is that the meeting, touching, arriving of one point to another, is a mathematical impossibility. That what we reach, or aim for, we are always only arriving toward. Step by step, the path is unfolding, unfurling like a blossom. And by some miracle, we continue to unfurl like a lotus blossom, petal by petal.

And yet, it is said, today, at the Solstice, we have arrive at the stillpoint; a point when we can measure the approximate longest night in the northern hemisphere. After today, the daylight, in the north, will increase in minutes, the sun will rise higher on the horizon. The sun will shine deeper and deeper into the shadows and show us light and dark. Somehow, the impossible has become possible today, and new light arrives.

So, in the quiet before the shift, in the dark of the void, let's turn inward and listen to what other miracles are possible. What is the devotion of the miraculous, that calls you and me? Soon, the outward voices will gain momentum, energy and volume. Soon, distraction and busyness will be forefront. For now, Cherish these deep silent dark days. Find the inner peace to beam out into the world. Build your embers into a large fire to shine out for all to see, like the brave newly crescent moon just after sunset. Shine bright into the darkness knowing your light will show the shadows you make.

Let your point of arriving, be your inspiration for all you seek, all you cherish, all you dream ~

Wishing you love eternal, light that warms and deep peace.

Namaste

A few cards from the quiet stillness

"Keep the Force, especially through the ionic vibrancy of the ocean's atmosphere
and the green full energy of the forest" Advice Anonymously given

I wake today, on the first of the year
and ask, "what can I do for you today, dear Earth?"
Both today, and this whole year?

I notice, the sun, shining with new found brightness, white light reflecting brilliantly off the ice and other precious areas that preserve water. These spots are hollows and depressions, indentations and contours, places that hold water like prayers, places waiting to express their dreams.

The Elementals permeate the day as well, showing up in their flowy ways, bringing fog, mist, showers and rain; they arrive dancing on the edges of the water and melts; they slide over the frost heaves, and crevasses; they cover the underness. Water reigns and soothes in this in-between place. I feel in between myself today.
I've heard the term "undines" as a way to describe these watery elementals. I like that name.

The crunchy earth thaws and heaves in the changing temperatures of January's weather, resulting in ice mounds and meltings, crevasses and maws. The shifting terrain encourages one to remember to slow down the step.

As I step, the soil feels raw in this fragile transition. The Earth feels not ready for Spring, yet.

And Nor are we, nor are we.
Breathe, dear body; breathe, pause, wait, watch, wonder, suppose, play, dream and believe. And then wait some more.

Soon kind winter will bring days of snow and cold again, enfolding the earth in a gentle embrace, allowing the pregnancy of transformation to continue quietly, and unseen. This embrace allows us all to ready for the Spring within to emerge.

Today, for the Earth, I will listen. I will notice. I will walk.
I will pick up discarded pieces of the puzzle and set them right. I will stay present to what I witness. I will hold hands with myself and other; I will hold hands with the in-between places and feelings.

As a piece of the Earth, a fabric of her tapestry, I also will pay attention to this body ~

For my body - I offer gentleness and attention

For my mind ~ wonderment

For my heart ~ flowers

For my Spirit ~ Breath.

What will it be for you today?

The blue green color of the earth glows bright and then turns to deep turquoise in my mind's eye.
Turquoise deepens and brings in new solutions with new visions emerging in the coming Spring.

Eventide ~ the end of the day,

The prayer one whispers to the air as dusk arrives

Singing as vespers, also evening prayer

Lighting candles in welcome to the night.

An archaic meaning ~ Venus when traveling as an evening star

Venus, the prayer that travels in the night

Purple fingers linger above the horizon with the pink clouds as twilight falls. This light lingers long after the setting of the sun. The mystery of light waves on and on into the dark, lingering in all the shadows of day before night fully drapes us all. These purple fingers line the bottom of the pink clouds tonight. Promising a clear night.

To my constant wonder, twilight arrives around 4:00 this time of year where I live. I know for people north of me that is a luxury of light. Still, both it surprises and steadies me. The twilight helps me know where I want to be when the dusk lands. I, like the other creatures of the woods, want to quiet down and prepare for the long night with prayer and fires and silence, knowing that the coming light will help us all rise again, anew.

I started a new ritual of listening to music with my cat, at night. Once the fire warms us and we have cozied in, we listen to his music.

Of all the genres of music, that this dear cat who lives with me listens to, he decidedly prefers the devotional. Not indie nor rock, not house nor lofi, not future garage, downtempo, gospel, classical or choral. Nope, none of this sound gives him pleasure.

He will listen to contemplative piano with a small nod, suggesting possible pleasure.

Mostly, he enjoys a steady hum, a gentle tone, and clear precise harmony. He may give a wink to classic quiet jazz, and he seems to smile when he sees me dancing to certain music, especially if I have the said music playing through my earbuds. For him, though he wants the drone, the ahhs and the mmms.

He prefers the songs that bring meditative quiet; the ones that brings one to balance point of internal stillness, a stillness supported by external sound.

One can discern this appreciation, quite clearly,
because when these songs play,
his body stretches long,
as long as a yardstick.
And he groans with gentle pleasure,
and smiles.

It is good to help him relax in the season of winter when his sensitive body can feel the snows arriving days before anyone else, and his bones cause him to sleep more. When the night arrives early, and the fires are our light and warmth, during these times, I play his favorites.

One time, when he was so ill, that I feared for his life, I put together a playlist of all his favorites. At the time, I hoped the tone of devotion would soothe his ills. Indeed, and to my great joy, he did recover. Since then, my phone will always carry a playlist with his name on it, In honor of his taste. In honor of love. A playlist which also carries my gratitude~ Gratitude for life, for presence, for healing, for devotion, for love.

So when I switch over to this playlist in the evenings, often long after the twilight has melted, when the day has surrendered to night, we bask in the unwinding sounds of 3rds and 4ths, of ohms and namaha's, of kyriés and anandas. I listen, while he dreams his bliss.

Twilight, lingers tonight with an ineffable deep magenta purplish glow now. Gratitude for the quiet descends with the dark as we quietly stoke our inner fires.

"The blessing of the morning light to you,
may it find you even in your invisible
appearances, may you be seen to have risen
from some other place you know and have known
in the darkness and that that carries all you need.

May you see what is hidden in you
as a place of hospitality and shadowed shelter,
may what is hidden in you become your gift to give,

may you hold that shadow to the light
and the silence of that shelter to the word of the light,
may you join every previous disappearance
with this new appearance, this new morning,
this being seen again, new and newly alive.

"Blessing of the morning light" by David Whyte

Profound visions lie beneath the fabric of November light, hidden to one’s “eye”. Appearing to me as a sense, a deepening, and then as a joining of rhythms to previous quiet places.

The rhythms sing a song to the stars, who in turn respond in their contemplation of Earth with celestial music of their own, gifting us with the circle created.

Some days, when the fog rolls in, covering the ground with deeper mysteries, when memories drift by like wisps on fog tendrils, and keep moving onward, appearances shift into visions of what may be, the breath of possibility.

Some days, when the snow falls, blanketing the landscape, blanketing the previous summer's toils and outbursts, the quiet arrives with relief. The snow-bearing gifts come with a crisp and simple invitation to open to the greater silences, to explore what’s hidden, here.

Today, the song is of silence. Today the appearance is of stillness. Today the silence holds a deep ripening. The more I listen, the deeper I sink.

Winter companions sing confidently this morning, as they flit from branch to feeder and back, covering the ground with more shells of time.
Blankets upon blankets deepening the days, like woolen sweaters upon warm skin, offering comforting inviting covers to crawl under and into.

This invitation to listen to the land, to the visions here, opens a curious quiet doorway. One with potency, fullness and stillness. One that stretches me to remember to hold witness, to hear the songs as they linger, to honor who has come before and then, in turn, sink even deeper under the covers of this November. Dreaming the potent possible, dreaming the conversations with the cosmos.

The Winter will come ~
The Winter will bring the winds that roar as the ocean tides who crash on the solid rock; the winds that bluster and grow with force, mingle and laugh in freedom of expression, and move freely joyfully, through the forests of graceful hemlocks, tall pines and bare bones of hardwood trees.
This beautiful Winter will come,
and the conversations will continue.

Thank you to all of you; thank you for helping me to birth this post; thank you for being you and sharing your songs of you and your lands.

So much love, Namaste