Blogger Inspiration 101

Sometimes I run across a post floating around in blog land that just hits me the right way and I feel compelled to write in respond. Recently this happened while I was over at Monica's Place. I began a comment and it turned into a poem. Thought I would share it here.


Monica Unwrapped

layers and layers folded upon you
thin, airy fabrics of almost unnoticeable existence
one is nothing, an inconvenience

another layer merely a moment of discomfort
laced together slowly, one by one
wrapping themselves around you

one day the weight is unbearable
one day the discomfort binds you
one day you feel cocooned

time
time passes
time passes slowly
time passes slowly and you grow

too big for the encasement
too substantial for the drapes of bondage
too complete for holding back

...

emerge in your time
some of us already see your beauty
and believe

believe in yourself, delicate butterfly
believe, feel the sun
flutter on the breeze and fly…

Brook Green Garden Series - Prelude

This past Saturday I went to Brook Green Gardens, one of my favorite places on the planet. I have much to share with you in picture, word and reflection over the next few posts. So, visit the link to the website and enjoy the photo above - much more to come.

Gently Walking

Gently Walking

beads of perspiration mark trails down my temples

paths of the journey of necessity, vigilance

arms stretch outward to maintain balance

delicate steps along the precipice of doubt

pain

once more muscles constrict and release the rhythm

of a task that moves me ever forward

mental anguish and withered cravings scream

threats of rebellion and unwillingness

fear

while gentle wisps of liberated mist rise from the earth

once bound to soil and stone now free, rising

swirling forms of supportive hands caress my frame

lifting forever a small piece of life's weighty matter

relief

i stroll on

Hawk Medicine

The hawks are really out and vocal today. We get this every Spring, a few days when they seem to defy their reputation of being elusive. They soar, gliding from one roost to another. Screaming and taunting each other. It is wonderful to watch.

I remember, as a child, always longing to see birds of prey. We didn't see many. Occasionally when we would travel to the mountains, or more inland areas I would see a large bird soaring in to sky, Too often it was a vulture or raven. Then, sometimes, it wouldn't be. Sometimes it would be a hawk, or a Sea Hawk - gliding on the currents, mastering the skies - waiting to deal death to some unsuspecting prey.

Today, my wife is fond of calling any sighting of a hawk "Hawk Medicine." Her sense of respectful coexistence with birds of prey is almost reverent.

Birds of prey (raptors) are wonderful creatures and often misunderstood. Interactions of almost any kind with humans is perilous to raptors. They are best observed from afar. If you want to learn more about the life and precarious existence of these regal birds, click over here to a brief essay, compliments of Stanford.

Photo Supplied by FreeFoto.com

When Bloggers Blog

Bloggers' Words

words on my screen

tokens of life well lived

speaking of actions, attitudes

options for living

words of one's journey

signs, revealing and deep

challenging me to thrive, live

choose to grow

words launched into timeless space

floating in e-land, wandering

coming home and sinking deep

settling as my heart

sings

words from you, my friend.

Winter Music Saved My Life

Winter Music saved My Life

When I was a young adult, music saved my life in many dimensions. perhaps we can all say that music has saved our life, our sanity, our being at some point or another, and that is what I am saying. Today I am celebrating the music that educated me on the possibility to appreciate music as it occurs naturally in nature.

The Paul Winter Consort, founded in 1967 and lead by Paul Winter is an assembly of musicians with strong influences of Jazz and Blues. The group's work is still very much alive and won Grammys as recently as 2005, 2007. I first heard The Paul Winter Consort when he played at Wofford College in 1978 following the release of their album Common Ground. I still have the vinyl album with the group's autographs...somewhere.

The striking thing then and now about the music lead by Paul Winter is the incorporation of animal sounds, recorded in nature, into their music. I was able to hear the true music of the wolf and the whale and experience the gentle continuance of their song through the haunting rifts of saxophone and lumbering rhythms of percussion. It was through Winter's music that I began to develop an affinity with the planet and those with whom I share it.

If you can stop for a moment today, do yourself a favor and turn out the lights, turn up the sound and let this group take you on a journey into your very own world - lead by the voices of nature and the music of masterful musicians.

Wolf Eyes

Lullaby of Mother Whale

Relief - A Tale from the Seaside

Before the lightning flashes, clouds roll in bringing with them a promise of relief from the incessant heat and the potential of a light show over the sea. There is nothing so comforting as a summer evening thunder storm at the coast.

Their regular appearance with their own assembly of sound, light (amazing light) and a palpable embrace. It's the drop in barometric pressure, so they tell me, that creates the change in the air. the air seems to at once feel lighter and more dense with moisture as it brushes against you: an ascending wave of breeze upon breeze. The air smells of salt and sea just before the storm.

Perhaps the sensations are so powerful because of all bare skin; the taut, tanned skin of youthfulness, proclaiming would be eternal beauty and undaunted vigor, feeling every ray of sun, every grain of sand, every coming drop of rain.

Memory tells the story now... Here I felt the world, alive and full. I felt the storms. Here I would grab you by the hand and rush to the beach as the clouds darkened the sky and the breeze began to chase us. Sunbathers scattered for shelter and we would run against the current of people to the beach and scurry like sand fiddlers into the large wooden float box positioned with it's one open side facing the ocean. There we would settle in, giggling and shuffling into our place among the sandy floats, into each other's arms and wait for the show to begin.

Drops would fall, making small dimples in the sand and then give way to sheets of rain, blown sideways by the wind folding them like sheets - waving to us. The light would fade and burst in flashes. Then the moment would come when, framed by the window of our shelter we would see a jagged bolt of lightning descend in to the sea. We would shut our eyes and capture the image of that bolt now cut into the fabric of our souls as we felt the thunder - thunder into us. We would hold each other tightly as we shared the storm between us. I remember your bare back hot beneath my hands, the texture of your lips, and the taste of you.

Lightning flashes. Clouds roll in, bringing with them the promise of relief...

Note: image courtesy of Free Digital Photos

The Puppet Man

The Puppet Man

pull the string, watch the dolls dance

blood runs from my finger tips

maybe this time it will change

calm my fears or ease my pain

see my marionettes take your stage

watch your laughter, feel your rage

safely sitting

program in hand

three cheers for the puppet man

pull the string, watch the dolls dance

blood runs from my finger tips

maybe this time it will change

calm my fears, ease my pain

i see your faces, swoons and frowns

watching fixed, puppet take puppet down

they're not real, you carefully remind

while i silently die standing behind

pull the string, watch the dolls dance

blood runs from my finger tips

maybe this time it will change

calm my fears, ease my pain

with human hate they dance for you

showing the worst the we can do

superb! delight! encore' you shout

so once more the toys come out

pull the string, watch the dolls dance

blood runs from my finger tips

maybe this time it will change

calm my fears, ease my pain

the lights are gone, empty isles now

i fall broken, wondering how

these hands will heal, gather strength again

so, you can watch through my gift, friend

pull the string, watch the dolls dance

blood runs from my finger tips

maybe this time it will change

calm my fears, ease my pain

see my marionettes take your stage

watch your laughter, feel your rage

safely sitting program in hand

three cheers for the puppet man

*note: i wrote this poem a few years back while struggling with managing the internal demands that i often felt from others' external behavior around me. i think as children we often take on the role of performing for the 'big' people in our world - and although maturity requires us to grow more autonomous, we many of us struggle well into adulthood to perform for others... it is only a problem when the price is our very health, peace and well being.

**Photo used by permission

Bound - A Poem about Moments of Self Doubt

bound

the knot tightens

the grip of self within self

constricting fists of self hate and loathing

mauling my soul

doubled over in pain

breathless from the impact

blows of fury born of hatred and distrust

disemboweling my being

healing hands, where are you?

gentle touch of truth, come

come, come

release me, untie me, free me

i am weary with waiting

On Having Lunch at Panera - Repost

The din resonates

Countless voices frantically

Proclaim facades and personas

Below the cascade

Simplistic souls stand

Wall flowers alone and longing

Within, a voice asks

Shall we dance?

*I wrote this one a while back after having lunch at Panera Bread.