Add Light

 

 

Today I remembered that the addition of sunlight to snow causes it to look like a million tiny diamonds sparkling all over the ground. 

 

 

Light changes everything. 

Whether outside on a snow covered landscape, or inside on an equally snow covered landscape. 

Make a Wish

When I was small, I truly believed in the power of making wishes.

 

I believed that if you closed your eyes tight enough, and thought your wish hard enough, that blowing away all the dandelion seeds would make your wish come true. 

I don't remember what I wished for back then.

Only that I did so, frequently and often.

Now that I am grown, I still believe in the power of making wishes.

But I find myself making them less often;

and usually only in times of great want or fear. 

I think it's high time I get back to my earlier practice:

wish making with wild abandon.

Wish making with alacrity.

After all, if it did nothing else, the dandelions would certainly appreciate the help. 

The Inevitability of Spring

Spring never happens in a straight line.

It begins, but inevitably, at some point, there is a step back.

In that moment, the world dozes off for a while.

This is pause without defeat. 

An inbreath. 

Year after year, nature always finds her way to spring.

Regardless of how many steps back she encounters along the way.

Spring will not be denied.

It persists and it will always win.

Every year. 

No matter how deep the spring snow. 

In a world of flux and change and shifting ground, spring is inevitable.

And it will never let you down.
You can rely on it.

Adaptation

You don't have to go very far in nature to see examples of how it adapts.

Things change and accomodations are made. 

We can't always see what was being accomodated, but what we can see is that nature is fluid:

willing to stop, change direction, work around and continue.

When things break in nature they don't get discarded. 

They often get repurposed or become homes for other things, but they remain.

The cracks and twists tell their own story.

There is an inherent beauty in these ravages. 

The Individuality of Trees

Trees are a tribe.

A collection of individuals connected through their roots.

Living side by side through the seasons. Weathering all manner of storms.

Their legacy is air, food, shade and shelter. 

Their bark is like skin: weathered, worn, individual.

Most trees are scarred and torn. Their branches are often twisted and pulled.

They resist perfection. 

And yet, each one is perfect. 

No two are alike.

I find myself wanting to know their stories. 

Their history. It is written in the texture of their bark, but I do not yet know the language of trees.

All of these trees co-exist quietly together in the same forest.

We have a lot to learn from trees.

i think it's important to try and create something as often as possible. not a masterpiece...just some small thing. because i can.  and because doing so roots me back inside myself.
and just gives me a way to say....i am.

i am alive
i breathe
i have passed this way

today i dunked a yellow flower in almond milk and took its photograph. 

and then a dandelion.

and then 2 dandelions.

and quite honestly it was one of the highlights of my day.