Always shadow and light

Early morning on the deck.  Stretched out in soft red house dress, toes illuminated as sun crests the spruce tree.  Peppermint tea finds it way to lips, diving deep inside.  Peppermint brings fresh energy, light morning zest, a remembrance of drunken summer bees buzzing in purple flowered mint glory in swampy crevices behind the garage.

Sun illuminates.  Unknown birds speak insistently in unknown tongues.  Singers peel their notes from maple perches.  Mourning dove calls awaken the heart, begging, begging that we awaken to what we’ve forgotten in the busy movement of our lifelong days. 

Morning on the deck

I almost remember.

Notebook rests, half-filled with scribbles of dreams and intentions, suffering and tears.  Ecstatic bliss.  This notebook birthed in 2005.  Many of the desires feel ancient, unresolved, like an old spinning black record stuck in its needled groove, re-playing over and over again.  In this past year the groove digs so deeply it cuts through all pretension like the darkest night.  How long do we continue playing a record we’ve outgrown?  When do we finally realize that we’ve moved on to tapes and CDs and DVDs?  When do we release the ancient record player to its grave?

Peppermint tea simply smiles as it descends.  The sun casts its brilliance on deck chairs, umbrellas, remaining drips of rain careening from the eaves.  Leaf-shadow plays against tree bark, oblivious to desires or suffering.

Only mourning dove seems to understand. 

Hummingbird hovers to drink from red dress, paused mid-flight. 

“You’re created of nectar,” he seems to say.  “Drink deeply of yourself.”

Then he flies toward his own sustenance.



16 thoughts on “Sustenance

    • Jeff, I thought of you this morning because I was writing Morning Pages in the notebook…letting the deepest self express its fears, desires and joys. Do you find it challenging to reveal your deepest deepest self through Morning Pages on-line? Do you find yourself editing or leaving things out? Thinking this could be so vulnerable…

    • Kiah…you are always with me. On the other hand, it would be lovely to sit with you on the deck again. You, with your sketch pad. Me, with my notebook or Ms. Ellie. The sun slanting through the trees. The hummingbird coming to look at you and welcome you back home again.

  1. Kathy,

    Earlier I wrote a blog about the experience of writing morning page as a blog, in it I wrote that I was somewhat aware that there were or would others to read the pages. Yet now that I have been writing them for about 5 weeks or longer, if I truly am in the flow of writing and being authentic there is no fear of sharing my joys, desire or fears to the world, for that was the whole purpose of going “public” with my “morning pages” !

    Thank you for asking!

    I am Love, Jeff

    • It was a beautiful quiet morning, Kim. You would have loved it. It might have been hard to sit silently and commune if their were a lot of people there. (When Sue and her daughter showed up later in the afternoon the deck was HOT and we put on a fan and we talked, talked, talked!)

  2. Drinking deeply, in the experience often gives me a feeling like cold air entering my lungs, an exhilaration. A person can learn to repeat the things that provide such a feeling, and they can be healthy things. A rub, for me, might be not knowing if, when I notice that exhilaration is missing, am I in a rut? have I outgrown a thing? do I require something else? am I restless? and eeegads!! did I make up the feeling in the first place? (And whyyyyyyy oh whyyyyyyy do any of us neeeeeeeed to know?)

  3. “Hummingbird hovers to drink from red dress, paused mid-flight. “You’re created of nectar,” he seems to say. “Drink deeply of yourself.”

    Beautiful. Simply beautiful. Thank you.

    • Thanks, Meenakshi. Don’t know if you knew that Susie Q and I from Gaia camped under the stars the other night. She called this blog my “soul blog”. Interesting… Thank you for visiting and enjoying.

  4. Pingback: It’s all going to the frogs… « Lake Superior Spirit

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