I haven’t left a note for myself…

… In some time. I have been busy. And tired. And confused. And certain. Such a very full time. I have shaken the white jacket and the ideas it entertained. I stretch and crackle with life and freedom. I am committed to growth and it is relentless. I feel like a baby must… Between energized and exhausted I am full of wonder.

I love so many so much. How will I ever touch them all? I can reach out in my dreams, mostly. Please, look for me there. Grab me by the arm. Say something so that I know you know we know. We can practice next time we see each other. There we are free from the pull of the pattern, these seasons so glorious and demanding.

Bunny butts and twitterpation. Daffodils. Dirt. Just, uuuuhhhhh. Everything is so fresh and I just want to lay in it and do nothing but marvel.

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Rising sap…

I watch the flurries out my window, and I think of the sensation of these flakes’ passing as the trees must feel it. It whirls through, it brushes against, it piles on with delicate speed. The snow is a jacket of cold. But I thrum within it, like the trees do. I long to drop it at my feet and forget it exists as I rejoice in wakeful Spring.

In my limbs I feel the circulation of energy. I feel the crackle of tissue that comes with long slumber and a desire for motion. It is vibrant and demanding in its intensity. I crave sunshine and warm rains, I want that balm for my body and spirit. I want to unfurl precious ideas and connections like buds toward the sky. These are the things in my heart as I thrum within this white jacket.

Yearning, I imagine my hands on the faces of those I love, like a tree must imagine its leaves on the wind. The distance between us is traversed by thoughts and intentions, for now. Soon we will quake and laugh together in bright breezes surrounded by flowers and buzzing things. Our cheeks will shine like glossy upturned foliage.

But firsts, this white jacket. I will wear it with patience. It serves me well to feel the weight of these tiny stars of water and space. I am grateful for the rest. But my sap is rising… Soon I will return these molecules to the atmosphere with the steamy respiration of my full Summer action. It will give it back blessed with my play and appreciation. I will wear that water jacket in a much scantier way!

For the birds.

Yesterday there was a little bird on my porch.

I threw out a handful of oatmeal.

Then there were two little birds.

Obviously a pair, he brought her to this feast.

I reveled in their ruffled feathers and enjoyment of crumbs, watching from my window.

I thought about my cat is passing.

Later, I was outside observing.

The mulch all alongside my house was fluffed where the snow had melted.

I saw one of the little birdies tossing grass clippings happily.

I walked around the corner back towards my door.

My cat was eating a little bird.

My heart broke.

I love my cat and appreciate her skill.

But… This was not fair.

What have I done?

I go inside and feel sad and aimless.

I go back out.

Feathers are on my porch.

There is a lone birdie crying on the fence.

Each worried cheep becomes a tear.

I sweep up the oats and toss them far away from my porch.

I gather the feathers from my porch, from the snow.

I look at these feathers, and think of how much they were loved.

Like the way I adore the wind in my dear one’s hair.

Placing them under the forsythia bush on the fence line where it cried, I cry.

I hope that their love can see and forgive.

I will plant flowers here, I promise.

Seeds on a bract, not porch crumbs, my dears.

I am grateful.

For my kitty’s meal, I can reach for that feeling.

For the lesson, immeasurably so.

That tiny point where an infinite loop crosses itself, it holds more information than one heart can peacefully hold.

I’ll plant this story with every flowering and seed bearing thing, forever.

For the birds.

Kicking things off…

… Boop boop boop. That is the sound of the few little marbles I just kicked out of my noggin. I sent them bopping down the stairs of the porch of the home of my mind. I want them to roll out into the world and grow trees with branches full of glittering multi-hued marbles. Marbles that turn into whatever you wish when you pluck them.

These marbles represent my love for my land. I was born afar, but drifted to the Ozarks at a wee age with my family, and here I grew. The red clay, rocks, and juniper trees are in my bones. These marbles represent my friends. The others raised here, who drifted here, and who have sought this place by name. People who embrace and embody the gritty-sexy-luscious-earthy Nature of the existence this land offers to us. These marbles represent the CONNECTION. Connection between the land and the people and the ideas. The things that we share without really knowing we are sharing them. These marbles are an awakening of awareness, little glittering epiphanies. Reminders that what we’ve ALL got in common is a little sphere in space.

So. Make an ‘r’ rolling sound in your head. I decided to pour the WHOLE BAG of marbles across the porch, and this is the sound they make. They’re tumbling down the stairs now. Into the grass. Down the road. I share them freely with you all. Pick them up. Spread them around. Little epiphanies on sharing. I give one to each of my sisters and invite her to unleash whatever she has got to give amongst my spilt marbles. What a beautiful mess we’ll make!