I walk on Spring rainy days, when the colors vibrate clearest

days, like the ones we have today,

presenting in celebration and honor of life

offer more than words can describe.

in light of the gift of the ephermeral, I offer to you, my photos of the last few days here, on planet earth in rainy season,

inviting you to celebrate with me, the fairies, the rain and the trees of the wild hiding in plain view.

I celebrate the return of green, of buds, of moist, of dank, of fecundity, of possibility,

all present in exquisite beauty in Spring

who dances in her own rhythm, and tune ~

<3

(See seasonal Photo page for more images)

Robins sing under a pink sky

Singing Praises for their days.
Singing of Robin thoughts and feelings. Singing of their Robin lives.
Leaving traces of melodic lace lingering in the air as the day changes.
Singing as poets of possibility, with light language streaming from their beaks with gentleness and peace.
Singing, as the Sun sings, about the solar tides, and vibrations,
singing as the trees sing about the tree creations and considerations.

In all this Here, in all this song, rides a swirling tide of thoughts and feelings from sentient beings about sentient experience, lapping on the shores of now, and through the atmosphere itself.
This swirl offers experiential installations of many-splendoured things.

Encouraging us to feel too.

All of creative force pouring beneath the pink sky.
To crack open and Feel.

What if,

What if Anything we call God or Goddess is actually the song that I hear at this moment? The song singing, now?
The pink, the praise, the trees,
the sun, the tides, the breeze,
the field, and mountain, all together?
The ebbing and flowing of life and song, the rising and the falling to compost? The light, the dark, and the moments in between, the cracking open?
Like now?
What if the creative force of life is that cracking open to life, from life when all of life allows God/goddess to feel and think themselves about themselves?
The many-hued song that plays all together - that that is the divine thinking the divine

A little of everything and everywhere right now, and right here.
a little of all that is, right now, right here.

the divine spark experiencing themselves in you, and showing you, you.

And you are

Right here, right now.
now.

"Share these teaching when you meet someone
whose heart is vibrating
with the flow of love,
let your words and energies be as free
as your breath"

Insight Verse 157-9 from Radiant sutras

Thank you Jonas Emmanuel Fricke for many of these thoughts, impressions, expressions and more. A "poet of possibility" yourself
We shall remember your song

So much love

I awoke before dawn, and felt a palpable difference in the air.
A difference that had nothing to do with the day of the Month.
I felt Spring. I can not say exactly how it felt, I do not what words to use to describe the sense.
I Can say the day felt Softer. I thought, "maybe this is the arrival of Spring."

For those who live in other parts of this earth, you might not know that snow still covers my gardens, several feet thick in some areas, ice graces the tops of puddles in the morning, and no frogs have emerged to sing through the evening. Even the trees are slow to bud, as seen in the fallen red maple twig in the photo above.

Yet, in this pre-dawn moment, the atmosphere, the scent, the sense all changed. A new sense presented itself through my yurt walls, as though the sentient trees could feel the earth's rising energies, and sang a new song, as though the summer birds fluttered in a new warmth giving the forest and me extra company, as though a wave of new elementals had arrived last night, ready to cozy up for the Spring revelries and musical entertainment, as if their presence warmed the the very air's vibrations.

And the change seemed to occur overnight

Usually, Spring arrives slowly here. I cherish that pace; the pace allows me to notice and savor each shift. Mud season bringing sweetest sap, Goldfinches singing their ways into our hearts. All while winter continues to blow occasional gusts and storms. And Usually, we hold court with winter beyond any imaginings of time ~ this allows me me sink into the gifts that the north winds brings ~ gifts of contemplation, deep healing, deep mysteries, perseverance, humor and patience.

It was only 4 days ago, after all, that a gentle snow fell overnight
covering the land tenderly and lightly.
Arriving like an easy breath
In and out, a gentle reminder of life continuing,
reminding me ~ we are here, still, breathing, even after great change.

And now, Spring. Overnight. The waters run stronger, the birds fly in mystical geometries ~ duets, lines, figure eights, and more. Hawks circle, geese in V's by the 1000s. And the singing has returned: songbirds fluttering and warbling, woodpeckers pecking and announcing their territories.

It is said that a forest is healthy with the presence of birds. The same must be true for me. With their presence and song I feel a weight lifted ~ from the air, the forest and from my heart.

Today, the wide spectrum of Spring arrives, dancing in many hues of lightness and on a wider and wider path. Spring arrives today bringing warmth and music.

Branches of tea from my home to yours. Roots reaching out and through the ethers, from my heart, to yours, connecting us where ever you are.

I offer another edition of the etheric tea party, hoping you can join me in celebration of our lives, of the our connections and of tea! Today, I offer a humble cup of ambrosia, knowing that with this post, the lines of connection spread like mycelium through the ethers, through the clouds of unknowing, and through the earth, connecting each and every one of us together via a ceremony of tea.

February, the month, I have offered the whimsical party in the past, is nearly over. This year, to create the gifts for this party, I gathered with friends to drink tea and share snacks, for laughter, creation, and art. To celebrate all that we have danced through, both together and apart. These brave travelers helped to make the cards in the photos below; they represent the vessels of our whimsy.

I dedicate this post to you, happy to drink deeply from this cup of life with you, and happy to have the chance to share this voyage of life on this Earth. Grateful that we have danced, laughed, cried and drunk tea together. And, if this post inspires more drawings of vessels of whimsy from you, please do share in the comments.

To life, to solace for all beings in this cosmos, and to togetherness, knowing that we are connected to all beings that we love, no matter how or what is the distance.

To you ~ to your health, to your laughter, your joy, and your heart magic.

Namaste, so much love ~

Glorious Slippery Mud

where ice, form and flow converge,
shifting us to new horizons.
where land, water and slip mingle,
creating primordial potions of possibility.

T'is the season.

The season appears quietly at first, in the small warm hallows, where the sunlight lingers longest, where dirt swells into a sublime oasis for shifting tides, and the road transforms into an oozing slide of mud. This venue resembles a cosmic sea of potential goo from which life will emerge once more like in a time forgotten a millennia ago. The shifting tides move the seasons forward, from what was, to what we will become.

The shifting tides move us forward too.

And like in any tide, we who float in it, will land elsewhere, slipping and sliding, whether we resist or flow. With the tides, we begin to change. Sometimes, through unexpected escapades, which help us to arrive at new unplanned places. Sometimes, arriving upended, and without solid footing. Sometimes, teaching us how to find stability in the midst of change. Always carrying us onward.

The tides arrive here, rising, shifting, recreating the land as we know it.

Also, quietly, the change arrives in the wind as well. I noticed this new sense while gathering firewood one day; I felt it in and as the mist of coolness rose off the snow, as the water seeped into the frozen crystals. I noticed a lifting in the breeze that moved me to a felt sense, like a perfume of memories, like a fragrance that lifted from a flower to color me, like an unforeseen freshness filling my lungs, like an aphrodisiac of scent, like a song from an ancient land.

A song that has been beckoning to us all, since before we were born. A song that we know in the core of our souls, to which we wish to sing; one that we hear lingering in a beautiful melody, or that we almost see out of the corner of our eyes, or try to glimpse between the twinklings of star-light, or see in the glittering sparkles of snowflakes on a crisp morning, or indeed sense rising out and from the misty morning vapors in the early Spring mornings, vapors that, like today, rise and float away on a breeze.

This realm is a mythical mystical place. Where there is always a quiet glade with a warm fire, where ancient trees wait for our arrival. It is a place that carries the promise of Spring flowers. A place of no-time when all is possible, and All is mingling and dancing together.

I lift my head as this breeze lazily wafts by, carrying the promise.

With the arrival of this felt sense, layers of cares fall from my shoulders, fall from the shoulders of the day, fall from time itself. This unlayering arrives with the tides rising from the Earth's belly, rising like sap in her veins, lifting the veils between the worlds. Between this world and the ancient one.

There is also, on this rising, a deep and profound silence. Even in the crinklings of snow melt, in the gurgling of cautious springs, there is a deep quiet. A silence that runs deeper than the gentle sounds, and puddles outward in ever-widening circles of creation.

Listen, take a pause, notice how the sound of quiet feels this week.
Does it sound deeper to you too?
Listen to the No time in this in-between moment, in this day.
Lift your eyes and hands. Welcome in the the silence.
This no-time is precious liminal space, like the season itself, a pause between Winter and Spring.

As the day progresses, the roads will shape-shift, into greater viscosity, only to return later in the day to some version of respectable solidity,
maybe, and appear not as they were, but as a project in process.

The toils of the day leave their traces in ruts, scars and wrinkles, like tea leaves left in the passage of time, telling tales of what was and what is yet to become..

As the season progresses, this road's solidity will in actuality, become quite dubious. Until there is one day, when all waters will break forth, leaving our paths awash with change.

*

I hear the water sprites laughing in the growing streams, I hear whispers in the mist that rises off the snow. I feel life rising in the limbs of the trees and I know soon, I will hear the conversations again between wind and forest in the evening's breath. I welcome this change keeping my sails oriented generally toward the visions granted in this no-time.

When breath is enough to fill the soul
when your smiles arrive, warming my heart.
When all is possible