SIXTH WEEK FRIDAY: WEED UNBENDING, KNEES UNBENDING, STRAWBERRIES WARMING


The weed unbent in a

lash to the eye

Just as a rose petal

floated onto the back

Of my hand

while standing up from

A premature adieu

to the garden geni;

The next-ridge freight train whistled

back my screech of wist

Imagined to fill the whole garden

but funneled back down my throat

In a quail’s toe worth of correction to

“Watch where you kneel,

“Watch where you step,

“Look up when you stand.”

After cleaning up from this most instructive session of gardening, I went to lunch.

Waiting for strawberries

to warm out of the

Sun brings whiffs of burnt edges–

something unknown,

Untimed, unshared.

When the strawberries

seemed to dance out

And meet all that was

frozen in the surround.

Leaving me to contemplate, while writing this post, the differences between reactions from and to Mother Earth’s still-natural children and reactions from and to Her processed, plasticized , formularized, dishes with particles divided against themseves.  Let us just say that the small sting from the lashing weed completely healed by itself before I had left the garden.  Not so the sting from the frozen glances of other diners while waiting for my warming strawberries!  Back I go to the garden!   Blessings on all weeds and quail toes!

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FIFTH WEEK MONDAY: THE SPIRITS INSIDE THE GHOSTS THIS ALL-HALLOWED’S EVE


Having received beyond helpful pastoral advice this a.m. about sharpening my sensitivity to social cues in promote more satisfying group interactions–and:

Having successfully cheered up a good, younger friend who just waved her National Guard husband of two months off to Afghanistan–and:

Having received very encouraging replies to my comments on several writers’ blogs–and:

Having grown very comfortable with sitting and writing for 4+ hours straight–and:

Having successfully chased off the goblins from early childhood memories being written about (which is essential to both my plotline and some of the public venue causes I am currently passionate about supporting)–and:

Having remembered again this year what “Halloween” started as–and:

Having decided not to fret too much over an writing job proposal, as it is not really part of my vision at this time–and:

Having floated back into a state of peaceful acceptance of myself and my strengths and weaknesses–TA DA!–

I in delightedly shaking hands with my own spirit inside the loving spirits of those saints who have gone before me from my family tree!

Here’s a little thought blooming in a corner of my heart today:

RUSTLE PAST THE SHADOWS

TIPTOE INTO THE LIGHT

STAND TALL OVER THE ABYSS

KNEEL BESIDE THE HIGH PLACES

 

My favorite quote today:  The last words of Steve Jobs as he looked over and past the faces of his loved ones just before he lost consciousness the last time:

” OH, WOW! OH, WOW! OH, WOW!”

Now, THIS is the spirit inside the ghosts from my past that I want to carry over into tomorrow, All Saints’ Day!!

I will be celebrating the love of those saints from my family tree on November 1, 2011!

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