Greens in Winter Rains

The rains continue drenching my garden beds that lie naked in standing water. What grew in sunshine and warmth of longer daylight hours,  absent now from the view through my window.  Alongside on the walkway, thick moss builds up in cushioned verdant patterns--dense, low and vibrantly green.  The key to all golf course putting greens lies in the amount of water,  I conclude.  No wonder there are some that look like deserts all year 'round and others, like moss gardens.

Another month of shorter days before we turn about at the Solstice towards the lengthening daylight.  We still have time, though, to settle deeply within, to search for something that this longer darkness might offer to those who pay attention to seasons, timing, relationship to themselves and others and to the context of life itself.

And the rain keeps giving.  In waves.  Like an oscillating sprinkler pelting rhythmically against my window. Its dependability centers me with its constancy and intensity.  At times, with an urgency that suggests perhaps, just perhaps, it is time to write.

I wrote a poem about rain the first winter I moved here.  I had no idea of rain's consistency and volume until these last few days.  Perhaps more poems about rain will be born this week.  Someone told me recently that Scorpio's were Valentine creations.  "Ah," I said back.  And laughed. All these years, I wondered about all the Scorpios in my family!  My parents were true romantics.  I might have another go at a rain poem if the monsoon pelting my windows doesn't ease up a tad bit.

See you soon, fellow writers--inspired by whatever pushes you to your edge!

Kat
24 November 2016

A Dialogue Within--Duality Converses and Converges

Love and Fear, life’s paramount duality, expose the perfection of exceptional meaning and impact on Soul’s journey—molding life’s internal climate, moment-by-moment through the conscious action of choice.

We journey in this lifetime surprised, unsettled and often upset by the complexity of this simplest-seeming action. Lacking understanding of its critical force upon our unique landscape—in the face of tornadoes, earthquakes, floods, fire and pestilence—all taking their toil when we have neglected to seek balance within and are driven to our outer edges by centrifugal force, choosing fear.

Not unlike the Outback, the deserts can dry us beyond a healthy hydration stasis.  Their dearths forcing us deeper within, withering us, dragging us searching for illusive answers we thirst for. 

It is a conscious choice of love that revives us when wavering in our trust in the flow of life, raising us to a higher vibrational state—choosing love over fear.

dialogue within

“Now? Here? Alone?”  Words spill forth, shaken and staccato with tremors and uncertainty.

“In this moment, all is beauty and as it need be, perfect.”  The reply, calm, melodic, hypnotically reassuring.

Where? When? How? Alone?” An edge heightened with anxiety and obvious building dis-ease.

“Breath, deep belly-breath, stillness and reflection sustain our humanness and ease our heartache,” breathed within deep rhythmic verse upon the ethers.

“Darkness, coldness, aloneness, sadness—alone?  Trembling words slipped off lips loose and moist with briny tears spilling from above dripping off flesh once tight and dry.

“It’s inside. It’s all within—each and every ounce of our capacity to heal the torment and aloneness and awaits precious discovery.  And when we do, it’s ours forever,” she said lovingly from within.

Kat

13 November 2016

Epiphanous Moment

I ached, my body and that place where Soul resides—was it my chest, lungs, stomach, back—they ached as if Soul wandered about wherever it desired—that is the freedom I hear told of the Soul—it seeks flight upon wings that send it into free-flight without boundaries, without judgments, without loss—but forward, with spirit of ease of adventure and will—taking it wherever Souls desire—always with joy and peacefulness.

Yet here I found myself aching in tears, engulfed in grief over losing my husband, my doctor, my spiritual teacher, my soul mate, my lover—all in one man, one person.  I was attempting to grasp a way to go forward—with my own inner compass. 

I’d been attached to my story of Don’s spiritual seeking and path our entire 17 years together—only to discover that one evening in an epiphanous moment,  I, too, embodied God—I, too, was a divine being and as long as I loved myself, respected myself, I would be aligned in my spiritual path and not alone.  The sense of joy engulfed me.  My heart and body-aching dimmed and I began to feel a deep peacefulness. I cried new tears in sheer gratitude of my existence.

Kat

15 November 2015

Flight

the plight of the Soul

I hear told—

seeks its way over the disquieted

as winged fowl in free-flight

without boundaries,

without unease,

without loss

achingly, my body—

the place where Soul resides—

in my chest, lungs, stomach, shoulders, back,

hurting as this personal Soul wanders hauntingly about

wherever it endeavors

Soul’s lightness baring within and upon

the spirit of our willfulness—

our physicality

our dignity

entwining, wherever Souls go.

Kat
12 November 2016

Trust is at the Core of Everything

The voice of the wind whispered, “I’m coming.  I’m here.  Where are you?”

I knew instantly where I was, but how does an animate respond to an inanimate?  A being? Energy?  My thoughts flew rapidly outwardly onto the ethers.

And Wind’s gentle persistence replied, “I’m here.  Where are you?”

And I, as perplexed as ever, emoted these inner disturbances.

Wind blew and grew a bit pestilent, shaking the blue metal roofed adobe’s edges loose from the underlayment.  “Presence is required.  I’m here.  Where are you?”

The insistence pushed at my edges, raising jaggedness up from their depths.  Roof edges.  My edges. 

Wind boomed,  “I’m here.  Where are you?”

The demands caught smack dab in the imprints my heels created as my body weighed into my crouching back-leaning posture.

Wind’s mighty force pushed and pulled at every edge of the adobe, forcing little to shift, with the exception of the roof.

“What do you want?” I cried out into the deafening night’s blackness.

“To dance with you in the llano, under the stars.  To hold you close and kiss your cheeks, turn you twirling and back again.  To share in the delight of all that matters between here and there—the wonders and beauty of life.”

Kat

7 November 2016

Origins Without Endings

Tender lily shoots tipping out

at the creek’s surface

touching air

and sky --

life teams with newness.

Wet unfurling curled cone leaves

ribbon out on tender stems

lushly engorged

on photosynthesis

and early sap flow.

Peeps and chirps, delicate as baby’s breath

fill background silence

of earthy under-story

in oxygen-dense landscape

merging fauna life with flora.

Waxing moon extends
her feminine edges in

tandem with light--

synchronicity with Solstice

reaching new boundaries, yet ancient.

Long ago now, without beginning

with no ending,
life begins--waxes wanes

tender—expanding—maturing—closing

only to begin again and again and again.

Kat

2 November 2016