Exploring

(On a hilltop in West Virginia.   Photo by Robin.  September 2007)

We shall not cease from exploring
And the end of our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

~ T. S. Eliot

Coyote Moon

(Last night’s moon seen through the thick fog.  Photo by Robin)

Last night the fog was so thick I could barely see the moon. Visible in the moonbeams that broke through the fog were the minute droplets of water that formed the large cloud that had come down to cover our part of the earth.

It was a beautiful and magical night, the fog stirring up mystery as it tried to shroud the light of what would’ve been a bright, just beginning to wane, moon.

Last night I heard the coyotes for the first time. I heard their yips, yaps, barks, and long howls being eerily carried along by the fog.

I’ve known they were here. Others have asked, “Did you hear the coyotes last night?” I always had to answer no. Now I can say Yes! Yes! I heard the coyotes. Their calls sent shivers up and down my spine in an exciting, almost frightening and wild way.

Better yet, I heard the coyotes on a night that was cloaked in fog and a ghostly moonlight, meant more for the end of October — perfect for Halloween — than for the end of September.

There was a part of me, the feral part of me, that wanted to join the coyotes in their yip, barks, yaps, and howls. It was that kind of night, the kind where it wouldn’t be at all surprising to find myself transformed into something other than myself.

Ted Andrews in his book Animal Speak associates the coyote with wisdom and folly:

In many ways the coyote is to the plains Indians what the raven is to the people of the Northwest — creator, teacher, and keeper of magic. Both are playful and love to have fun. Both are skillful, but often look for ways to do things that will not involve the use of their own skill. They often look for short cuts. Both remind us not to become too serious, and both remind us that anything is possible.

Perhaps the coyotes were there to remind me of these things. Or perhaps they were just there, doing what coyotes do on foggy nights when they can run more freely without the risk of being seen.

The Colonial American name for September’s full moon was the Harvest Moon. Various Native American names include the Blackberry Moon (Choctaw) and Moon When the Calves Grow Hair (Dakotah Sioux). I like the Celtic name best: The Singing Moon.

But after last night, I’ll remember September’s full moon as Coyote Moon.

Real beauty is within

(Inside the hibiscus.   Photo by Robin.  September 2007)

We turn outward, attracted by the beauty we see in created things without realizing that they are only a reflection of the real beauty. And the real beauty is within us.

~ Ernest Cardenal

Wandering and pondering

(At the Jersey shore.   Photo by Robin.  September 2007)

With a healthy degree of detachment comes the awareness that bad habits are no more stuck to you than the pencil you’re holding is stuck to your hand. You realize that you have a choice: often, you can simply let go of the thoughts or emotions that keep you from being as joyous and healthy as you want to be.

~ Mariel Hemingway, Healthy Living From the Inside Out

I’d like to take a long walk on the beach today. The best I can do is a walk around our pond. The walk around the pond is a lovely walk, but not the same as being near the sea, digging my feet into the sand, and feeling the salt spray on my skin.

So I thought I’d sit here and wander around a bit, as if I am taking that walk on the beach, listening to the waves as they roll in to the shore.

Yesterday (26 September) was the start of a new phase for me. I’ve been kind of slacking in the healthy living department. My back is much better. I’m walking normally (although there’s still a crookedness about my hips). The immediately compelling reasons for a lifestyle change have gone, and I’m back to my old tricks and bad habits.

Not a good thing in the long run.

A few years ago I went on a no wheat, no meat, no dairy diet. I felt fabulous. Absolutely marvelous. Lighter, freer, and so downright healthy I was sure I must be glowing with it. I was almost joyously manic in my healthiness.

But that sort of lifestyle change is hard to keep up for long periods of time unless you have some deep and/or frightening motivation to help you make the commitment. I had good reasons at the time. However, after a few months of feeling well I gradually slipped back to those old tricks and bad habits. Old tricks and bad habits are usually accompanied by excuses, false logic, and some of the silliest justifications. Yet I somehow forget that once the slip back starts. All the justifications, excuses, lies, and false logic begin making sense and sounding like truth. Instead of reveling in “I feel good!” and stopping right there, right at “I feel good!,” I start adding things to it such as “so why not have that pizza and a couple of beers?”

The proverbial slippery slope.

I don’t want to tackle everything at once. A couple of small changes here, one large change there, and eventually I’ll be so far down the road of change that it won’t seem like change anymore. It will be my new normal.

I started with a fairly large change. Sobriety. I don’t like where my drinking habits were going. A change seemed in order. I’m shooting for 30 days. I have no plans after that point. Truthfully, the first day was a little harder than I was expecting. But I’m here on day 2 and happy to say it wasn’t impossible.

I quit smoking by staying in the day, in the moment when necessary. I figure I can make these other changes the same way. No point in borrowing trouble from the future.

For my body and spirit, I restarted a daily yoga and meditation practice. First thing in the morning. It’s a great way for me to begin my day. I can generally carry the peace and calm with me throughout the rest of the day.

For my mind and spirit, I’m devoting more time to reading and writing. I don’t usually do a lot of my own writing here at Bountiful Healing. Perhaps that will change too, just a little.

Mark Twain once said, “A habit cannot be tossed out the window; it must be coaxed down the stairs a step at a time.”

He was right.

love is a place

(On top of the world in West Virginia.   Photo by Robin.  September 2007)

love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places

yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skilfully curled)
all worlds

~ e. e. cummings

The silent self

(Bella.   Photo by Robin.  September 2007)

There is a silent self within us whose presence is disturbing precisely because it is so silent: it can’t be spoken. It has to remain silent. To articulate it, to verbalize it, is to tamper with it, and in some ways to destroy it.

~ Thomas Merton

The first step

(Kridler Gardens. September 2007)

The first step towards change is acceptance. Once you accept yourself, you open the door to change. That’s all you have to do. Change is not something you do. It’s something you allow.

~ Will Garcia

A daring adventure

(Rock climbers. Harpers Ferry, WV. September 2007)

Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.

~ Helen Keller

M and I are back from our recent adventure. A trip of fun, family, and a day spent in the hospital while a loved one went through major (7 hours and 41 minutes worth of major) surgery.

I’ve come home with a new attitude and plans to make some changes in my life. I suspect that will all be reflected here in some way, shape or form.

It’s going to be a daring adventure.

New heights

(Sycamore tree near the Brandywine Battlefield. 2007*)

Continuity gives us roots; change gives us branches, letting us stretch and grow and reach new heights.

~ Pauline R. Kezer

*A note about this tree: It’s an amazing tree. It’s approximately 350 years old. If you look on the right in the background you’ll see part of a house. I have photos with myself and my husband standing next to it to give a better perspective of just how HUGE this tree is, but neither of us want our photos posted.

Jennie

Imagine being this loved…

(Birmingham-Lafayette Cemetery. 2007)

In case you can’t read the stone:

Dear Jennie,
Oftimes the flowers have come and gone.
Oftimes the winter winds have blown
And I have learned to live alone.
But whether grave or whether gay
I hide thy memory in my heart.
I hope we will all meet again never to part.
God knows best.

John G. Taylor, 1894

I hope John and Jennie did meet again.

We’re heading home today.  See ya again from the Bogs once we’re settled in again.