Ask yourself, "What if...?", and then go create that [reality or mentality]. Why not? Dwell in the open realm of possibility and see how that feels on you. ~ Katherine R.
Life. Messy. The grace of nature never fails to sustain, console, uplift, and redeem me. In stillness and openness, I listen, I learn, I grow. As fires burn too close to home, and life aches and beckons new expansion, these two poems hold space and healing balm today. I am deeply grateful that they found me, as I am for the beautiful sisters who shared them my way and for the beautiful authors whose poetic words quench, heal, pacify. ~ Katherine R.
The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
When We Plant a Rose Seed in the Earth by W. Timothy Gallwey
When we plant a rose seed in the earth, we notice that it is small, but we do not criticize it as "rootless and stemless." We treat it as a seed, giving it the water and nourishment required of a seed. When it first shoots up out of the earth, we don't condemn it as immature and underdeveloped; nor do we criticize the buds for not being open when they appear. We stand in wonder at the process taking place and give the plant the care it needs at each stage of its development. The rose is a rose from the time it is a seed to the time it dies. Within it, at all times, it contains its whole potential. It seems to be constantly in the process of change; yet at each state, at each moment, it is perfectly all right as it is.
Yesterday, the day after the U.S. Thanksgiving holiday, was the designated Native American Heritage Day (holiday). This got me thinking about the meaning of the word native, with all of its complexity, and for all that it can represent. It got me thinking about how I love to learn from and honor heritages other than my own. Honoring the richness of the fabric of humanity every day, in some way, is important to me. I always find myself within it—always do. It got me reading. Now, it has me sharing today’s musing with you.
As I write this note, I am boundlessly grateful for the seals barking outside, as they relish in the rolling, misty fog that soothingly and refreshingly blankets us this afternoon. I am grateful for these still moments, with my black lab underfoot, where I can listen—truly and actively listen—to living nature, to its whisper, and to be anointed by its delicate magic. I am grateful to share a few words here with you, along with the following beautiful Native American prayer that found me today. I feel so fortunate to be held by these wise words today—precisely what I needed. Thank you to the Puebloans for inspiring me in so many ways today. Indeed, we are all connected, and their courage and wisdom is woven into our present. Thank you for sharing this moment with me.
Love ~ Katherine R.