Sleep While I Drive

Simply love Organic: It's Sunday morning and the sun is peeking from be...

Simply love Organic: It's Sunday morning and the sun is peeking from be...: It's Sunday morning and the sun is peeking from behind it's sweater. I keep hoping the sweaters will come off her smile and we can b...

It's Sunday morning and the sun is peeking from behind it's sweater. I keep hoping the sweaters will come off her smile and we can bask in her light for a little while. In the meantime I am layered. A t-shirt with the words "your kidding, right?" a jacket with some Aerie lettering and polka dots in the hood. A baseball cap covering some deep graying at the temples. I am in a place in my journey where I can't put another chemical on my head. I went gray in my 20's. It's been a lifetime of purchasing colors. A lifetime of sitting miserably in a shower trying not to breathe until the toxic stuff can be washed away. Then an itchy scalp follows for a day until 6 weeks have past and it needs to be done again. I think it's time to accept myself. I think it's time to realize what 60 looks like after a lifetime of suffering. I'm done trying to impress. Except maybe my beloved and he likes the grey. (He is a little crazy that way) So I am walking the trail beside the creek and I am loving the sounds and the smells of a forest after the rain. It's my ritual, this creek and I. I meet Sammy, a beautiful scarred rescue and his "Mama" Lizbeth some days, and we catch up and share snippets before we carry on in our exercise time.  Today, I am alone except for a girl. She looks to be about 15 and she is swinging wildly on the swing set. Pumping her legs hard, her hair is flying back and forth and her face is tipped to the skies and she is smiling. It's a joyous sight to see and suddenly I want to join her. To take my pain wracked spirit and squeeze my 60 year old behind into a child's seat. "Hi," I smile at the girl "Isn't it magical to swing like that?" She smiles at me with the joy of an opening flower. "It is!" she cries loudly and I don't want to frighten her off her joy by asking if I can join her, not with all of the messages now of DON"T entertain a stranger. So I walk off...daydreaming of the skies coming closer. The crows along the trail are mocking me, a large old dog comes and takes a giant crap in front of me. I am all of that in my thoughts. "What is so wrong with speaking to a child?" I think.  So I turn back towards the playground, my heart beating a little harder in anticipation of meeting again. The swings are quiet, the girl has left. I walk slowly towards the swings and squeeze my hips between the sides of a blue seat. I begin to push off the sand and my feet start to rise. The spirit of my child comes shyly from within and the soles of my feet pump up into the sky. I feel the earth, I hear the sounds of my childhood and I pump harder. My stomach is flipping and I remember that too. The sun is removing her sweater and my face is tipped towards the glory. I am for a moment in time 8 again.  I swing and I pump and my heart is light and missing a beat and I am in some pretty beautiful joy.  All 60 years of pain is flying in the seat of a blue swing, size child.
The sun puts on her sweater again and I feel acutely the pain in my hips and I stop abruptly.
The old dog meets me with a large wag of his tail and he and I slowly make our way back to our homes.  I am suddenly lighter, younger in my heart. Full of something I had forgotten.

Sometimes I think whats the point?

It's dark and chilly and summer has not made known her heat. I am in a sweatshirt after an evening stroll with a tired husband and a band of deer as witness. It's my way to question this new life. I don't go easily to places that seal me in dirt and whip me with hair across my blood shot eyes.
So I write out my journey and I post it on social pages and I get absolutely no comments of any kind and I think "what's the point?" You hear of Bloggers who tear up the worldwide web with their brilliance or whatever magic they spin to make a million readers come and listen to what they have to say. I am lucky if I get one comment or one person following me. Yet I win awards and get published and sit alone in my new "normal" land of discontent and long to sit across a table breaking bread with a fellow writer and share our sonnets or our stories among glasses of red wine and checkered table cloths that lay across my grandmothers old table.

Simply love Organic: The created earth is crying out. It's in some deep...

Simply love Organic: The created earth is crying out. It's in some deep...: The created earth is crying out. It's in some deep distress and we don't hear. There are those of us who cry out on the behalf of ...

"Lucy your in a lot of trouble"

The earth is in some deep distress. Crying out, the warnings are everywhere. We turn our backs, spray our children, kill our animals, destroy our forests, scalp the lands. We over consume and under restore. There is no end in sight and if we don't stop we will awaken one day to a silent spring. We post signs to NOT help our fellow man.

If we forget we belong to one another we have lost all love. If we forget we are all connected we will lose all nourishment and die.

LS

I am a sojourner of the lost

I am a weeping woman for a dying child

I am an angry cry for the injustices

and there are voices rising in the wilderness calling out that the time has come.

The masses are not listening.

The masses are not caring

The masses are not sharing

The created earth is crying out. It's in some deep distress and we don't hear. There are those of us who cry out on the behalf of the dying and we face the indifference of the masses.

I am woman on her knees
I am a woman crying out
I am a woman who's home is the sky
who's home is the land
who's home is the sea.
I am a woman who has bent low
as the earth is bent low
I am that woman
who silently screams in her pain
from the chemical load
(a lying believable thing)
as birds fall from the sky
and oil spills into a dolphins home
and they die.
We will fight the masses
with everything we have
to point the way
and the earth cries out
and the land is scraped barren
and the children are sprayed
and the world spins on it's axis
and the masses hang up there shingles
and turn a deaf ear.

If we forget we belong to one another there can be no peace.
If we forget we belong to another there will never be love.
I cry out to a God above
All knowing and all loving
yet so unfair in his touch.
Some are blessed and some are cursed.
Some are healthy and some are crushed.
I am a woman on bended knee
crying out for relief.
The earth cries out and I hear it's cry.
The earth cries out and I hear it's plea. I am a woman
Just a small and bent woman
Joining my cries with those of the skies.
With a child dying
I am a child
gone wild
in grief and in dreams
Please hear our cries
Please lift our voices
before it's too late.

I'm Just A Girl

River High

Guided Exercise: Belly Breath

Anxiety Relief Practice

Simply love Organic: Life is only a reflection

Simply love Organic: Life is only a reflection: The moon catches the field bunny as she scurries to safety in the barn. An owl watches her from the top of the pole but does not desire to p...

Life is only a reflection

The moon catches the field bunny as she scurries to safety in the barn. An owl watches her from the top of the pole but does not desire to partake of her. She will live to see another day.
Life is only a reflection.
A tiny moon dance between the bunny and the owl. Nothing wasted, nothing needed. They do not needlessly kill, these animals of truth. They are not like us.
We lash at our reflections
see less than joy in our hearts
and blame another.
We eat without hunger
and grow sick.
We weaken when we compare ourselves to another.
As if we hold up a mirror to another's faults and failings
and cloak our own under the dark of night.
We are only a reflection of our truth.

When God enters into me and I reflect his love
The world opens with arms that splay joy
smiles brightly
treads tenderly upon the earth
gives and does not squander
not any piece of love
all wrapped in his glory.

The spirit of ecstasy will carry me
as Life is only a reflection
of what we carry within.
I will not hold a bright light to your wounds
I will not expose you to the shame
I will only shelter you in the midst
of your deepest pain.

When I see that which disgusts me in you
I carry that within me
like a wild untamed shadow
waiting for the right directive of circumstance
to implode the underbelly of scarred truth

We are the same
and life is only a reflection of our truth waiting to be revealed.

You will turn your hand up to mine and I will lay it gently down
and the moon will capture in our eyes
truth revealed.
Time heals
Skin to skin
we reflect
upturned hearts
and roads less traveled.

And the owl watches the night unfold.

Simply love Organic: The quiet in open spaces

Simply love Organic: The quiet in open spaces: In the house In the house is the man who calls me "his girl", who put his toil and his dreams for a better life to the test wi...

The quiet in open spaces

In the house

In the house is the man who calls me "his girl", who put his toil and his dreams for a better life to the test with the likes of me, now lays sleeping, dark circles of wonder around his eyes he frowns consistently in his dreams. I am the bearer of his "Frustration" 

I see blue birds as bright as any blue I have ever seen making nests out of straw in the eves of the house. They flash from our lone pine tree to the eve and disappear into a tiny hole they call "home". The wind is roaring past me as I step out the twenty steps to "my home."  I climb into the 36 feet of moving wonder, complete with a kitchen and a bath so tiny even I cannot sit down in it. It shelters me from the house that is still making my body rash, heat and hot and my stomach cramp and turn to glass if I stay too long. I am thankful for it all but in the whipping, punishing wind that takes my breath and my voice and throws it to the next county. I lose heart to revisit grace. 

This has been a punishing year.

I lay at night under the stars and listen to the chorus of frogs in the distance. They mesmerize me, this symphony of stars and frogs. I drift into sleep and abruptly come to awareness as the flashes of loves lost come parading behind my eyes.

A mother, a brother, a friend. A child, a home, my health, my dreams gone in a year. I am stunned as if bitten by a serpent named death, destruction and losses. Can I live behind the veil of GOD being loving and still allowing that? 

I want the distraction of the city noise and the sirens blasting and the children crying and the neighbor sneezing and I cannot live there anymore. My body, broken in ways that came from "Modern weapons of war" on the health of the planet with names like Round Up and Agent Orange and Monsantos and chemicals. Silent Spring By Rachel Carson comes flooding back. I am living her vision of death and suffering. Like a permanent scar I cannot breathe any more of the chemicals released, sprayed and used on a daily basis, for an ignorant and greedy gaggle of sheep who want lazy instead of safe. My mom lived in the midst of beauty and poisons and they killed her. Cancer. I can still see her face in the final moments of her life on earth. Death is not pretty. Her death was better than most and still I am haunted with her mouth gaping open, the death rattle in her chest. I bolt upright in my bed and try not to remember. I cannot look at the deaths and smile anymore. I can only force myself to listen to my heart pounding in my chest and wrench open the door and move out under the stars and hear the quiet in open spaces. 

This was not what I prayed for.

These losses, this pain, this "sentence" to live in wide open spaces, next door to my man instead of next to him under blankets of peace and marital bliss. Life is a mystery. God is not defined and I am hearing the shouts of a half mad women living on the prairie with the wind whipping her hair across her face like a weapon.

I will sit here, long after the moon has crossed the sky listening, straining to hear from GOD. Does he not wish to answer me the longing cry of my heart? Is his silence a storm that I am in the eye of? It's the in-between that the madness occurs. Walking country roads sobbing my eyes out as bewildered calves look over at me with sad eyes. No one else to hear the tears. 

Quiet in the open spaces.

I will return to sanity I know. One day the punishing winds will stop. One day the flowers and green of the valley will rise from the prairie brown. One day I will hear a still small voice call my name. The memory of those gone will bring a smile and not a cry. One day the house will become a home. One day the quiet in the open spaces will be the ease of my heart.

Simply love Organic: A Thousand Soaring birds

Simply love Organic: A Thousand Soaring birds: A thousand soaring birds of flight coming into the fields of early light their wings are illuminated as they come a thousand upon the fro...

Simply love Organic: Power up your brain

Simply love Organic: Power up your brain: We are all in need in our high tech, never ending stimulus lives of a "Brain tune up !" While occasional memory lapses are normal...

Simply love Organic: Whippin Wind

Simply love Organic: Whippin Wind: I am learning to get up before dawn and begin my walk. I can see the tiny lights of Jupiter and Mars in the horizon. I can hear the sounds o...

Simply love Organic: This is just a test

Simply love Organic: This is just a test: What word say's it all for you?  One word. ___________ You fill in the blank. What one word says it all for you? Is it your kid, o...

This is just a test

What word say's it all for you? 
One word.
___________

You fill in the blank. What one word says it all for you?
Is it your kid, or your faith or your job or your dream or your animal. What word would you use to sum up your life. The deepest place inside of you that guides everything you do? What or who is your compass? Who or what motivates you to do what you do?
It's a deep question.

This is a test you know.
Life
We have been given One life and time is running out.
What's the word?