Walk Lightly

My ears delight in the call of the wind
Which whispers and plays through the trees
I walk amongst those bare trees and see the heart of the forest
And give thanks

In all is the circle of all that is
And in listening to the wind
And to the heart of the forest
I have to wonder if anything listens back.

Yes, I think so.

In walking lightly and loving deeply

It is returned

And I give thanks

Photo:  The Elven Face in the Tree - Lake Sammamish, WA

Breathing Into Change

And so...
There are times we move on.  Times when we know that each experience has a beginning and an end and a beginning again.  There is that moment of being called towards something different, something new.  I hear it.  I am aware of it.  The wild call is strong in my ears and in my heart.

And yet...
I am not fully ready for this change.  There is a sense of knowing that a few more things must fall into place first.  Sometimes change happens whether we are ready or not - I know this.  But, sometimes, change happens only when we are ready.  Both are elements of grace.  Being tossed in because You know we are ready even if we do not.  Being supported and given time when we truly are not quite ready.

Thank You...
for all the ways life moves and changes and grows.  When I see it in nature, it is always so gentle, so graceful, so beautiful and, well, so natural.  It is the rhythm of life.  It is the rhythm of my life.  Remind me when I forget and resist or rush the natural dance of this movement, of this life.  Throw me in when I resist a change I am ready for and remind me to be gentle with myself when I am not yet ready.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.

Photo:  Geese in flight.  Lake Sammamish, WA

Birdwalking

Birdwalking is a word that I've used since I was a kid to describe meandering thoughts and conversations.  Unfocused talking.  It's like looking at bird footprints on the sand and wondering where they began and where they will end.  I've been noticing that this is what has been happening to a small degree on this blog.  "From One Who Almost Forgot" was intended to be a bit like easvesdropping on my talking to the Divine - questions, thoughts, meditations, dreams, prayers, etc.  And, while for the most part that has been happening, I've noticed a few entries that kind of don't quite have a home here - the focus is different.

So, I've just created a new blog called "Jade Wind" that I am inviting you to take a look at and follow if you like.  I have copied over three of the entries from here (entries will also stay here) and given my initial "What is this blog for?" post.  I will keep writing "From One Who Almost Forgot" but will do so with the original focus.  "Jade Wind" will house my other thoughts on creativity and following our hearts and dreaming into reality.

http://jadewind.blogspot.com/

I hope you find both blog sites to be of value and inspiration to you. :)

Photo:  Frozen bird footprints on the beach of Lake Sammamish in WA

Coffee Shop Dreaming

I am sitting in a coffee shop warming myself by the fire they so thoughtfully make available to us on a cold winter’s day. Above my head is a speaker that is providing all different types of music. What strikes me about this is that each song is from a completely different genre - Rock, Jazz, Classical, Country, Folk, World, and Alternative. Each piece has its own beauty and gift. I have to wonder about the musicians. What brought them to this place where they create in their own style this level of music in which you can hear their mastery? It’s an important question for me as I am in the middle of working on my own first CD and it applies also to the books I am writing.

I think many would tell me that it’s the hours of practice and study and training. You hear so many stories of the musicians who spend 6 hours a day in practice and several more studying theory and technique. However, I’m not sure that’s the truth. I spent a year studying music (voice) in college and watched many of these phenomenally talented musicians doing that very thing – they lived in the music hall, had no life outside of the practice rooms and classrooms. But, you hear nothing from them now. Some have completely disappeared, and most now teach rather than perform in the way they once dreamed of.

Many of the musicians you actually hear and love have been told at least once, if not more often, that they didn’t have what it takes to be successful. They could practice until their fingers fell off or they lost their voice completely and would never be anyone in the music world and yet they are.

So, what’s the key? I think there are a couple of keys. One is found in the phrase “they once dreamed of.” What happened to that dream? In letting go of the dream, reality changed for them and we hear someone else instead of them. What we think on and what we dream of with our entire being ends up happening. One key at least, then, is never stop dreaming of those moments in which you are doing what you really love and being wonderfully successful at it.

Another key is in allowing that still small voice inside of you room to become loud enough to drown out those who would say “you can’t” or “you won’t.” There is a moment inside of us that chooses to listen or not listen. At some point, if we wish live who we really are, we must choose to no longer listen to those who would say “you can’t.” What I love is that the choice is always yours. There may have been a time, or many times, when you listened to the “you can’t” voices but you can always, ALWAYS make a different choice at any time. It’s one of the most beautiful things about being human.

Learn to listen to that part of you that simply aches with longing to do one thing or another – whatever that is. That is the voice. It’s soft at first, especially if we have buried it deeply, but it will grow louder as we nourish the sound of that dream - that knowing - until that still, small voice becomes delighted laughter and expression. Awaken to the moment of realization that “this is mine to do in this life,” and simply choose it – every moment of every day. Trust and believe that in this way we can best express our connection to That Which Is and our connection to ourselves – when we connect to one, we connect to the other. There is a point where we either walk away from what we dream of or we take a breath, stretch our hands out to the sides, close our eyes and step off. Though training and effort might be needed, no amount of training can make up for that moment.

Top Photo:  Campfire on the Peninsula, Collins Campground, WA

Bottom Photo:  by Patrick Corrigan - My hands playing the first time I was in the Opus4 recording studios

Frozen

Frozen…well, that’s been me. Most of this year has been one of loss in one way or another and through each of those losses I have felt a piece of me slow down and stop. Isa is a perfect word for this feeling or happening. It’s a Norse Celt word/ideogram from the runic alphabet that means “ice” and “standstill” – the place of silence and seemingly no movement. Its symbol is that of a vertical line drawn. It’s a tough place to be. I have so many things to accomplish, so many things to do and yet I am distracted by those losses, distracted by the things that wake me up in the middle of the night and then keep me awake until dawn. Body and soul exhausted - finally given no option but to be still.

Isa is coming to a stop but there is a blessing in it as well – rest and healing. Isa isn’t about a full stop though it might feel constrictive…restrictive…dead. Isa is winter – the stark beauty of snow and bare trees and frozen ground. Trees withdrawing sap, seeds cocooned under frozen earth and yet life continuing underground. Visibly stopped. Invisibly moving. All things gaining the nourishment they need to break through the earth, draw back up the trunk and burst into visible life again. Similar to the Native American concept of embracing bear or going into the cave, it is the time of winding down, resting, learning, healing, knowing self deeper within or, at least, it is the opportunity for that. Thought of this way, it’s a coming home, where all else drops away and I am left with quietness and connection to That Which Is.

And slowly, slowly tiny moments of, not only stillness, but rest occur. Peace and a sense of Grace in small quantities. And I am still, with my head cocked to the side as if listening deeply or sorting through these new sensations – giving space for them to grow and no longer fighting with it all (well, not as much anyway :o) ;) )

From here movement begins.

Photo:  Frost-etched leaf on the walking trail at Cedar River Park, Renton, WA