two spirits~

a giraffe stands. 

pauses. 

perks ears. 

looks this way. 

this is the brink. this is the edge. a moment of stillness, of promise. 

the moment where ending and beginning collides. 

under a tree, a giraffe finds shade. 

sees through mist.

pauses. 

finds breath between ribs.

feels earth beneath feet. 

is ready.

go. 

if at least one foot (or hoof) is off the ground, it's running. 

the heart surges towards life. 

muscles decide to work as one towards a goal. 

a goal of motion, of intent. 

purpose. 

a leap. 

intense life.  leaving ground for another time.

time for sweat. time for dripping sweat. 

sweet, sweet speed.

go because you can. go because you have to. 

magnificent.

visual literacy

i've been spending quite a bit of time, the past few days, looking at images, and thinking about what they bring up for me (feelings, memories, ideas, etc.). i've been thinking about how we are bombarded with images day after day. some of them we immediately read, without even thinking about them, and know what they mean:

i don't think these images are too charged with meaning. plain and simple, women's/men's restroom, school crossing, stop. we see these signs everyday, and perhaps even if you couldn't speak english, their message would still be conveyed. 

now, what about these images... 

 i'd wager that these images have a little more emotion attached to them. these images seem to have more of a required knowledge of culture in the north east states of the united states. looking at the logos wouldn't necessarily speak to the long held rivalry of two baseball teams. however, i can think of two of my readers who would have plenty to say about these icons... even wondering why they were put on the same page!!! 


as an experiment, i entered the words "images of harmony" onto google search. here are three images that caught my eye of the 98,300,000 that popped up in .24 seconds...




i would love to see which of the 98 million images for harmonyyou might choose. and i wonder, do these images even remind you of harmony? 













i believe the way we read images can provide us with a treasure trove of information, if we're willing to really look within. gathering images on a vision board, or on a website such as pinterest (http://pinterest.com/ucmoons/ is "my" site) is something i do regularly in order to see what is attracting my subconscious.  



*how do you find out about your subconscious desires?
*what images are you aware of loving? 
*what kinds of images "turn you off". 


i'd love to see some of them. 

art.

boring art. is there such a thing? 
hold on. boring. 
i'm not sure i even know what that feels like. 
seriously. i don't know that i've ever felt bored. 


but boring art. is that just short for art that doesn't excite the viewer? is the viewer not moved? is moving and inspiring the purpose of art? perhaps.... 


but i was noticing, as i walked in the woods a couple of weeks ago, that there is just nothing boring (in any sense of the word) in the natural world. i am clearly inspired by the natural world... it's one of the best teachers i have. 

now, i know these rocks didn't just land this way, some human came along, and placed them. (is this art?) but just look at them. are they trying to be other than they are? are they hiding their spots of lichen and age? are they sucking in their sides, or softening their hard edges? NO WAY! 

and check out this lichen... a friend on the walk called them british soldiers. they're teeny. they're reaching for the sky. they're off the beaten path on a mountain somewhere in the middle of maine. and they're living their lives as full and high as they can reach. 


i'd say that is art. 

gifts

 the light is changing this weekend, shifting an hour back. the colors around us are following the sun's lead. i noticed as we drove today that the leaves come off the tops of the trees first... leaving the lower, more established leaves to linger. the scene looks much like the photo above. golden and glowing. perhaps reminding us that it's time to head inside, and cozy up for the next few months. 


how much do you allow the seasons to effect you? how much do you follow the natural rhythms that say there is a time to romp and play outside (you can also read this as "playing outside of your self"), and that there is at time to come in (again, "in") and sleep and restore. there are the shoulder seasons of spring and fall where you can do a little of both, but the summer and winter are for hard living and experiencing... what about this... 


plant new ideas in the spring, 
once they take root, watch the sun and rain and your self nourish them all summer,
gather in the fruits of your ideas and actions in the fall,
and then comes winter... 
winter, for taking time to examine your bounty of the year. time to "pour over seed catalogs" and dream about what you might "plant" next spring... 


what about that? do you think there is anything resembling this natural world pattern in your life? can you embrace the darker times of the year, and see them as a balance for the lighter times?   

there are more days now when i'm aware of the red thread of life reaching from my heart, from my head. this thread that tangles in trees, in thoughts, in touching life. it's easier to see in the fall as leaves tumble, as leaves snuggle together on the ground ready to turn to deep black soil (the nourishing kind, for feeding those trees that loom above them). i'm aware of  feeling tugs and snags of my thread. reminding me of where i've been, and leading me forward. i do love the fall and winter for their visibility. for their subtlety. 

above me, the final flourishing of the leaves. the fantastic color parade as it falls to finish. 
below me, roots digging in for the cold times. reaching deep for any lingering warmth.
and i, in the center of them both, feeling full of life and light. 

i'm remembering now, and the light dims outside, that the light is warming up inside. i'm at the doorway of fall into winter: winter, the cathedral of introspection, the church of soups and songs with family and friends around a piano. so i won't mourn the loss of daylight in the evenings. i'll feel the warmth of a cozy light at the head of a driveway covered in leaves a little snow, and i'll head in.
"in."will you join me?

open for business

 i sat in my favorite coffee shop this morning and let my eyes get loose as i looked out the window. 
the first thing they landed on was the only thing visibly in motion: a flag waving on the side of the building and it said, simply:
OPEN
it brought to mind a few questions as i sat with my journal open, and my pen poised... 

open. 

(when you form your lips to say the word, your mouth looks like an open door.)

*are you open to something new beginning?

*who did you open to today?

*what opens you up? 

*what (pandora's box) experience are you anxious to open?

*what does as open door mean to you?

*are you open for business today?

i'm remembering today that i'm not what some would call "a planner". i love to let things unfold, to open. i love watching people, places, experiences open. there's a thrill in it for me. the thrill of discovery, of the unknown, the thrill of the new. 


how about when you hear a new song? how about when you walk into a goodwill store? how about when you see your child running off the school bus? how about when you feel your love deepen for someone unexpectedly? 
are you open to this? 


how about a snowstorm in october? how about when your tea is a little hotter than you expected? how about when synchronicity lights up your day? 
are you open for this? 


picture this: the universe is sending you loads and loads of mail everyday. open it up, if you like. open up those letters, and read them. they're just for you, and me, and all of us.

i think we'll find some serious, fantastical and lovely things in those open letters. what is opening for you today? will you tell us? 

the long thin veil

these days leading up to halloween are the days when the veil between the living and the dead, the seen and the unseen, is the thinnest. supposedly, this is the easiest time to communicate with ancestors and other departed loved ones....

a few days ago, i thought maybe i ought to pay attention to that; to see if i could notice a feeling of something getting thinner. of something feeling closer.

the first thing i noticed was an unlikely rose in our front yard. not the "normal" time for a lovely soft yellow rose to bloom, in late october... and yet, there it was. it bravely stands atop a single stem... almost heavy enough to topple. but instead, it reaches high for our willow's branches. this is the kind of rose you don't appreciate or notice at summer's height. they're everywhere then. your eyes full of the feast of summer. your senses saturated.

now, in late october, the rose presents in another way.  

the grass is a deep green. the wet wet earth shows between blades. smells are damp and dying. the air crisp. sweaters make sense.  

pink and yellow are long forgotten colors. they've been replaced with pine, persimmon, pumpkin. even the color's names encourage you to keep your lips closed, to keep your body heat for yourself.

yet, look at this beauty. the same delicate petals. the same unfolding and curling out. the same veins filling the blossom with fleeting life.

not the same eyes though. not on this viewer, at least.  



a rose doesn't last two weeks in this weather, in this season, on this day. it quickly begins it's end. does it rush to turn into a ruby round hip? does it wish to pull the petals back in. shiver?

not this one. it has held on. even through a snowstorm with wind and accumulation last night. it's there. makes me think of o'henry's "the last leaf". a true masterpiece. a good reminder of expectations, and those roses that say,

"oh well, it was my time to bloom."

i am watching the rose test the veil. it's close to the dying time. it's putting as much life into the last moments as it can fit. it is opening when it's darn cold out there. it is accepting a snowstorm as part of it's story. it is willing to be that rose that draws attention to itself by blooming when it is the right time for it.

if the veil is thin right now, this rose is making it a long veil of that cusp moment between life and death. fall and winter. living and dying.

and i'm noticing it, feeling thankful for the experience of being with this rose as it lets go. the yellow rose makes me think of granny. the awareness of earth makes me think of grandpa. the reference to a piece of literature, grandma. oh, they're here alright.

they are with me.

slow down and engage.

From umma.umaine.edu

the artist, abe ajay engaged with life, and created this piece, "construction #689" in 1989. today i got the opportunity to sit with it for thirty minutes. i was in a gallery at the university of maine museum of art, there were many other pieces i could have spent my half hour with, such as 

"triumph of the weed" gabor peterdi

dominic chavez

"afternoon swimming" by david hockney



carlo pittore



"eight bells" by winslow homer








but the one that caught my eye and my heart was abe's. again:

i wasn't exactly sure what it was that was calling me at first. there was something familiar about the piece that reminded me of louise nevelson's work... 



but there was also much more that was pulling me towards it. making me want to touch it. after sitting with it for awhile, we were asked to do a couple of activities to deepen our experience with the piece. first, a diamante style poem:

door

copper, wood

opening, entering, passing

going through is simple

attending, shading, collecting

warm, varied

keyhole

then, haiku:

a portal, a gate                                                             falling to winter

enter simplicity now                                                   the keyhole mixed media

follow the lines there.                                                 the wood unfinished.

i'm just wondering... how long has it been since you slowed down, and engaged? i felt a slow sigh of relief as i did this. as i spent my day talking with a friend. as i ate lunch in no rush. as i was encouraged to fall into the moment, and the art, and find myself there. and i was there. the keynote speaker told us of an activity where she has adults sit in front of  ONE painting in a gallery for TWO HOURS. what would you come up with if you sat for even HALF an hour? even for TEN MINUTES? i'm going to give this a try. i'll let you know what i find out... will you share your experience with us?