Country life (or any life), I’m reminded, is not a list of tasks to rush through, it is a practise in mindfulness; this is my life.
Buck, split, and stack.
Take photos of kittens jumping and playing.
Can peaches, only to throw some out because the jars didn’t seal – let go, move forward.
These are a few of the things that fill my days and I am grateful to have the space and time to move slowly, practising presence.life
These photos are from last fall, maybe even the fall before… they somehow got lost in the depths of my computer and never made it to the blog. Although, I think maybe they made it onto canvass at one point; I don’t remember. Nonetheless, I love these photos… I love the way fog hangs in the trees. This is what peace feels like inside of me.
This morning offered up a most spectacular moment; the sun shone gloriously upon the frosted field. It’s always a bit of a hustle to capture the moment when it’s happening. I am often frantic in these moments trying to capture what I see, because the light changes so fast during the sunrise. I find transition periods to be uncomfortable sometimes, but I really appreciate the space between seasons.
This is my brothers dog, Ursa… he calls her Pig. She’s a gentle giant who loves to love and roll in the dust (like a pig). She wouldn’t get out of the frame this morning, so here she is in all her dark grandeur.
These sweet little beings came into my life a few weeks ago and I’m really starting to adore them. It’s been just over a year since Squash went missing and it’s been a joy (and an annoyance) to have kitties back in my life.
And mama Selkie, she’s good at keeping the babies in check.
Welcome to the Goose Yard.
Buying property was something I dreamed about, a lot, but never thought would be possible for me. Over the years I have cultivated many beautiful gardens, only to leave them behind, breaking my heart time and again. How I longed for a place where I could put down roots, to witness the magnificence unfold, year after year.
And then, these four remarkable humans and I, decided to buy land together. I feel so blessed to know these beautiful souls. Together we really are a dream team. We each have our own unique skills, perspectives, and characteristics that create a strong community.
I am aflutter to behold the unfolding of our collective dreams.
The unapologetic Columbine.
It is said that people used to grind up the seeds and the dried flowers to make a love potion. It is also said to cause heart weakness. I find it interesting that it is affiliated with love yet can be harmful to the heart.
Sometimes love is harmful to the heart.
Slowing down the rhythms. Shhhhh, luxuriating in white light while rain falls.
Words, fill my eyes.
My dear hungry ghosts, masticate this life slowly, deliberately.
Assimilate the process, the unfolding. Creativity cannot run on fumes. Nourish the blood, the soul,
Sitting in the unknown is not new to me. Today however, the unknown has left me with a heavy sadness in my heart. I may have lost a dear old friend… The mysteries of life torment my mind while my heart beats on with stubborn hope.
Watching the crow soar, I laugh through my tears.
I saw the first crocus’s of the season today. I also held a sweet honey bee in the palm of my hand. I was so overwhelmed with sweetness. To hold such a delicate creature was almost unbearable. My heart was breaking in the best way possible. I felt such love for the tiniest one. Spring is stirring and I already can’t handle it.
Oh my heart.
I want to pause, give thanks to the winter. What a winter it was.
Slow, quiet, and reflective.
As one season melts into the next, I sit and wonder what will unfold for me. I can dream and wish but ultimately I must breathe and experience – welcoming what comes. Such a life this existence. Such a mysteriously rich and heartbreakingly beautiful existence.
I soften and dream into being.
Oh winter, must you cling so tightly.
How I yearned for you. Now I yearn for the sun to kiss my skin, while birds chirp and bees buzz lazily.
Please forgive my ever changing heart.
I fear I am searching for happiness in spring, this searching is futile. Happiness will not magically appear at the end of this winter journey. Happiness lives in my breath, my senses, my heart, in the slush, and the grey. I know happiness lives in the present, but I don’t always choose it.
It’s more than just searching for happiness though – there is a waiting that’s happening inside me. What of this waiting… what am I waiting for? Maybe if I remove all the barriers I’ve created, I will stare happiness in the face. Wait, what if I take happiness off it’s pedestal? Yes.
All this thinking – I’m not even un-happy.
Watching my fumbling mind scatter. I am a scatter brain.
It’s fine, I’m used to it.
I’m trying to pack – it’s tough. I have 3 guitars… I can’t part with any of them.
Also fine. I’ll just keep them all,
These are going in the mail… fun.
Life moves, undulates, breathes in and out, contracting and expanding. This is its nature, the nature of what is. Whatever is, is on the move. Nothing remains the same for very long. The mind wants everything to stop so that it can get its foothold, find its position, so it can figure out how to control life. Through the pursuit of material things, knowledge, ideas, beliefs, opinions, emotional states, spiritual states, and relationships, the mind seeks to find a secure position from which to operate.
The mind seeks to nail life down and get it to stop moving and changing. When this doesn’t work, the mind begins to seek the changeless, the eternal, something that doesn’t move. But the mind of thought is itself an expression of life’s movement and so must always be in movement itself. When there is thought, that thought is always moving and changing. There is really no such thing as thought. There is only thinking, so thought which is always moving (as thinking) cannot apprehend the changeless.
When thought enters into the changeless it goes silent. When thought goes silent, the thinker, the psychological “me,” the image-produced self, disappears. Suddenly it is gone. You, as an idea, are gone. Awareness remains alone. There is no one who is aware. Awareness itself is itself. You are now no longer the thought, nor the thinker, nor someone who is aware. Only awareness remains, as itself. Then, within awareness, thought moves. Within the changeless, change happens.
Now awareness expresses itself. Awareness is always expressing itself: as life, as change, as thought, feelings, bodies, humans, plants, trees, cars, etc. Awareness yields to itself, to its inherent creativity, to its expression in form, to experience itself. The changeless is changing. The eternal is living and dying. The formless is form. The form is formless. This is nothing the mind could have ever imagined
My mind is often searching for some footing, something to anchor to so that it may try and “control” life. I know that when I am trying to control life that is when discomfort shows up, usually as anxiety. I have been at war with my mind for a number of years now. Maybe it is time to surrender and simply be aware of life expressing itself through thinking. According to the poem above – when the thinker (me) is silent, I disappear. Why am I always trying to disappear…
What would happen if I allowed my mind to wander and think into all the dark corners. What if I stopped resisting?
Maybe I will find the ease and peace I’m searching for,