… and I turn to look… … and suck in my breath… … and see this: Grateful. 💛 (Manna Meditations Day 16)
Tag: meditations
two ways to read it …
The Snow sings a song you can only hear in silence. It speaks to those who stand perfectly still, a primal music drumming in their chests: Be still. Be still. Be still. Be still … I think we both know I’m not really talking about snow. ❤
one for the weary …
(…because we’re all still children sometimes … frenzied… exhausted… in stubborn rebellion against that old human need for Rest…) Blown snow. White, not yet wet — sifted sugar. Airspun, storm-sung: it beds down gentle, tucks the lawn in tight, settling over the branches like a soft hand on a forearm: Hush… Rest now. Just be. […]
sometimes i find the manna at the threshold of the day …
… standing still and quiet on my doorstep: 💛
when the Blue shows up on a gray day …
… if only for a moment: (Manna Meditations, Day 10) 💛
when there’s abstract art in the forest…
Manna Meditations, Day 8 Let us not think for a moment that we humans are the first artists, the only creators … There is Beauty everywhere. ❤
beauty, in the bitter cold…
Manna Meditations, Day 4 It’s possible, I’m learning, that the manna is everywhere … That the magic is passing through us and around us, a hundred times a day, and to see it is as simple as breathing… Today I’m breathing deep.
into the woods…
Manna Meditations, Day 1 I walk into the woods, looking for the Maker. It has been a long time. Today the path is tiger-striped with hard gold light, the long shadows of trees falling in bars over the ridge. The air is so cold you can feel it taking up space in your lungs, feel […]
Flashback: When a Bridge is a Roadside Cathedral & There’s Water Underneath …
As the month of October draws to a close, so does my little anniversary series, Flashback. All month long, I’ve been interspersing my current work with some of my favorite throwback posts — all in celebration of alpha // whiskey // foxtrot’s one-year anniversary. This is one of two last posts I’ll be sharing with […]
The First Signs of a Long Goodbye
I find the first yellow leaf the way a woman finds the first gray hair, and feel it like a betrayal: I have so much less time than I thought. And still, the light fills up the rooms, yellow and warm. The green leaves tap the upstairs windows at night. Fireflies spark in the meadows. […]
