April 10, 2015 - Thoughts In The Mist

What I was thinking as things passed in and out of the mist today is that the mist is very much like the thing that’s in between our thoughts.  What I mean is, I could stand and stare out into the mist and not see very much.  Then a bird would fly through the mist.  I’d watch it for a while, and then it would disappear again--back into the mist.  I’m not sure where it came from or where it went, and I’ll most likely never see it again.  Sometimes the outline of a bird could be seen coming toward me, but it never quite made it through the mist.  Then it veered its course and disappeared again, never quite making an entrance or an exit, just existing as a temporary shadow of what I thought it might be.

The things that came into my vision--birds (birds at this time of year, but sometimes boats and seals and buoys, etc., at other times)--are what I compare to my thoughts.  My thoughts flit in and out of my attention.  Some are very strong and obvious and clear.  Others fly on the periphery and are very shadowy and difficult to see.  Like the birds, I often do not know what direction my thoughts will come from, how long they’ll stay, and when they’ll leave.

Mind stuff.

Unless I make a conscious effort to control them, that is.  Unless I decide which thoughts will enter, how long they’ll stay, and when they’ll have to go in order to accomplish a particular goal.  It’s possible, but it takes effort and concentration, and it isn’t something that can be done constantly.  Only then do my thoughts differ from the birds.  Ordinarily, however, they are exactly the same.

But what are the thoughts and the birds flying in and out of?  What are they hiding in?  What is disguising them?  For the birds, that’s easy.  It’s the mist, the fog, the vapor of the water below.  For our thoughts, it’s similar.  It’s a mist-like substance within our brains.  We could call it the “mind.”  The mind is a mist.  It is separate from the brain.  The brain is the physical entity, like the water in the ocean.  The mind exists in the same place as the brain, but it is not a physical entity like the brain.  It is more like the mist.  But just because you can’t hold it, doesn’t mean it isn’t real.  The mind, like the mist (which is usually invisible), is very real.  And like the mist, it is the same substance as the brain, but on a different level, having been transmuted.

Remember what I said about water.  The Great Alchemist is at work here.  The mist and the mind are supporting reality, deciding what we will and will not see.  Because if we do not see it, if we do not acknowledge it, it is not there.  At least not for us.  The eyes are the easiest sense to trick and not much good in a fog.  Rely, instead, on your other senses.  He with ears, let him hear.

April 8, 2015 - Fairy Clothes

It’s in the fog when you can see them the most.  That’s when they’re most comfortable in our world because they think they can’t be seen.  They’re used to dwelling within their own self-created mists.  In fact, that’s how they travel from one world to the next--through the mists.  So when a great fog descends upon the shore, they are in their natural habitat.

I chanced upon some fairy clothes hanging out on a fairy line.  I knew at once it belonged to them because the line was not hung straight.  Fairies usually avoid straight lines whenever possible as that is a manmade idea, and no self-respecting fairy would want to be associated with anything as base as a manmade idea.  They have no problem “borrowing” some of our rope, however.

Look out of your windows in the first light of the morning or the last night of the evening.  Better yet, go for a very quiet stroll.  You will be surprised what you see at those times.  There is a lot of activity now.  This is all part of the spring quickening.  More and more of them have come out of their dens now, and the busy season is upon them.  There is much to do before May Day!  Look to the mists.

Fairy clothes upon a line.

April 7, 2015 - Jack Frost

The sheets of ice break off into interesting, predictable patterns.  Later they will smash into one another and become jumbled and craggy icebergs, sometimes dangerous and sharp.  But when they first break loose, it is clear that they are being removed in a pattern.  It would suggest that they were also formed in a pattern from the very beginning, but we can’t know that for sure since we do not see the pattern until the ice is undone, never when it’s being done.

There appears to be a perfect mathematics to it all.  Indeed, we know that ice crystals are hexagonal in nature, forming and fitting together into whatever container holds their final shape.  But how is that shape formed and then unformed when the container is just a river and its winding banks, a river that is constantly moving?  Where do the straight lines come from when the ice begins to recede?

There will be a scientific explanation for this, but I think we can all agree that it’s Jack Frost.  As an important minion in the army of the Lord of Winter, it is his job to lay down the ice and then pick it up.  As the artist that he is, it is his job to create the feathery patterns on our windows.  Jack Frost thinks and moves and acts in patterns.  What he has done in the winter, he is now undoing in the spring.  And like any artist, he is being temperamental about it.

Jack Frost was here.

April 6, 2015 - Thoughts of Sunset

Does everything stop when a beautiful sunset occurs?  I think it does.  I think the Earth stares at her star-crossed lover as he slips away.  I think she salutes him.  I think she stands with tears of sorrow at his departure and joy at his beauty.  Should she run after him and stop him, or should she let him go so he can create a work of art?  Is he more beautiful when he’s with her or when he’s slipping away?

Ask the clouds; they know.  Without them, there would be no painted sunsets across the sky.  Without clouds to obscure the thoughts and hide the heart, the feelings would be trite and transparent.  But they roll in, filled with emotion and moist tears, and it is their arrival that sets off the chain of events.  The very thing that blots out the sun also brings out his beauty.  It is the portending of bad weather that creates gratitude in the heart.

All the creatures stop to watch the sun disappear.  He never once looks over his shoulder to see the crowd watching him from behind.  It’s as if he never knew them.  He sends his last brilliance almost offhandedly, not to the Earth but up to the complicated clouds that wait on his command.  When he’s gone, the clouds rule.  Our minds fog over for the night, and shelter is sought.  We wait expectantly for the sun to return and relight the flame of hope.  Do not be surprised when he arrives and has no knowledge about the struggle of the night before.

The clouds know.

April 5, 2015 - Less Is More

The less I have, the fuller my coffers.  When I look around me and I see no possessions, I am burdened with riches.  When the clutter of finery is removed, the priceless feeling of space is exhilarating.  When my pockets are empty, my hands are loaded down with prosperity.  And like a magnet, divine prosperity is drawn to the one whose mind has been emptied but whose eyes are filled to the brim with wonder.

Less is more.

April 4, 2015 - Vriksasana

In yoga, there is a pose called “vriksasana” or “tree pose.”  I am not an avid yoga student, but I do try my best and I feel that it is beneficial to my body and mind.  But that tree pose.  Oh, that tree pose.  That pose which seems so simple and is so very, very difficult--at least for me--has always been outside of my grasp.

Until today.  I went to one of my secret spots and found this old tree standing in a natural “tree pose.”  And, really, how else should a tree stand?  Suddenly it made a lot more sense to me.  The tree pose is all about balance, focus, posture, poise, memory, and concentration, and if you practice it regularly, you will gain strength in these areas.  I am a clumsy yoga student, at best, so finding this tree was a real boon to me.

Vriksasana - The tree pose.

There it was, standing still and proud against the gray sky, its needles reaching upward and outward in perfect balance.  It had found its “drishte” (a small, unmoving point just ahead) to gaze upon in order to help with its concentration and balance, and there it stood:  graceful, peaceful, determined.  The wind, the weather, and the birds never broke its concentration and poise, no matter how they tried.  And they tried.

I believe that nature constantly gives us clues about how to live our lives better, if we will only stop and listen.  My focus lately has been on too many episodes from my past, things that cannot be changed but continue to drain me of energy.  My balance and poise have been off because of this.  My memory and concentration have been taxed and strained.  It’s no wonder “tree pose” has been so difficult for me.

There are special golden lockets I keep locked away in my heart.  Each one contains a perfect photo, a poem, a lock of hair, and a tiny piece of my soul.  They are ornate and carved with great skill.  They are beautiful to look upon.  They are precious to me.  But they are locked away for a reason, and that is where they must stay:  locked in the shimmering underworld of my heart.

Onward, then.  Stand tall.  Find your “drishte.”  Let your arms reach to the heavens.  Find once again your balance, strength, and poise.  Be proud.  Let nothing deter you from your expression.

April 3, 2015 - Undefeated

Rocky terrain juts out

undefeated

snow melting, receding, pleading

gnarly trees and shrubs

dug in long ago with iron claws

undefeated

the enemy retreats, softly, in tears

with secret plans to raid again

another time

but not today

victory is snatched from the icy foe

and the land is free again

and undefeated.

 

Victory is mine.

April 2, 2015 - Sing a Song of Sixpence!

Sing a song of sixpence,

a pocket full of rye.

Four and twenty blackbirds,

baked in a pie.

The red-winged blackbirds are back!  A huge flock landed in my backyard this morning.  I had to use full-zoom to try to photograph them, and I dared not go closer because they are so jumpy.  But you can see the red and yellow stripe on the shoulders of the males.  The yellow part is more prominent when they are at rest on the ground, and the red part is more noticeable when they are flying.

When the pie was opened,

the birds began to sing.

Wasn’t that a dainty dish

to set before the king?

 

Yes, they are finally back from the south, and this is yet another sign of spring.  I always look to the animals for my signs, especially the birds.  (It won’t be long now for the ospreys!)  I usually hear them before I see them, and today was no exception.  They have a very familiar song, and I knew they were around.  Suddenly, dozens and dozens of them--maybe a hundred or more!--landed in my yard.  The photo only shows a few.

Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.

The king was in the counting house,

counting out his money.

The queen was in the parlor,

eating bread and honey.

 

The females will build their unmistakable nests soon, made of cattails, rushes, and grasses--never far from an open body of water.  They will line it with mud and lay three or four bluish eggs, which will hatch in less than two weeks.  The hatchlings will be ready to leave the nest just two weeks after hatching!  The female will have a few clutches throughout the season.

The maid was in the garden,

hanging out the clothes.

When down came a blackbird

and pecked off her nose.

Red-winged blackbirds can live 10 to 15 years.  Many people feel that they are a nuisance, especially when they’re migrating back to the north or camping out in a farmer's grain field.  I can’t help it, though; I love them, if only because I know that spring is truly here, but their song makes me happy as well, spring or not.  Sing a song of sixpence!

[“Sing a Song of Sixpence” was first published in the mid 1700s, although there are possible references to it in the early 1600s.  Many meanings have been attached to this poem, from historical events to folklorish tales and symbols.  In 1549 Giovanni de Roselli wrote “Epulario, il quale tratta del modo di cucinare ogni carne, uccelli, etc.,” which included a recipe for a pie that contained live birds.]

April 1, 2015 - Periwinkle Snails

Some creatures carry their skeletons on the outside of the body instead of the inside.  It actually makes a lot of sense.  There’s a permanent home available for the soft part of the body--no need to search for shelter.  There’s safety from the wind, sun, and predators.  And there’s room for art, room for decoration.  A finely spiraled shell is a sight to behold.  What a snail lacks in physical beauty of its soft part, it more than adequately makes up for in its shell.

Soon the rocks on the shores will be covered with shells, many of them from the tiny periwinkle snail like that shown in the picture.  Many will contain a living creature, but many will also be the remnants left from a creature long dead.  We can fashion them into wind chimes, jewelry, etc.  The ocean is always abundant year-round, but winter weather prohibits its joys.  Now that spring is here, we will be walking among the snails again (and feasting!).

It’s yet another sign that the warmer weather is coming.

The delectable periwinkle snail.