fear released

Bend your knees. Learn forward slightly. Relax the knees. Long, thin, strips of fiberglass designed to spread body weight evenly will slide, glide, and coast across the snow. Relax! Bend your knees! Ready.

I am a goofy foot, launching on my right ski.

First rule learned in first lesson: Relax! Put a little bounce in your body. Slight uphill to start and then a gentle, gentle glide through the meadow, sunlight sparkling on the snow, cold air grazing my face. At the end is the turn and steeper downhill.

I often end up in the brambles at the end of that hill. I forget to relax.

Swoosh! Snow flies. I fall, laughing as I do the turtle, skis and feet high up in the air (how can you not laugh at that position?), and roll over on my side to get back up. There is freedom in that first fall. Joy.

Relaxed, knees bent, a little bounce in my body, I take on the big hill with a joyful wheeeeeee!

Day 22’s small stone.  A little wordier than usual.  I actually fell twice today, but the first fall was the best because it’s always the first fall that releases the fear.

Just another morning in winter

Fresh snow accumulated overnight, redrawing the lines of the landscape.  The birds gather around the feeder, some on the ground scratching for fallen seeds buried in the snow.  A red-tailed hawk perches on a high branch in a tree at the edge of the meadow, watching.  Waiting.  A fine white powder, barely visible, is being squeezed and sifted from the clouds overhead, falling softly, silently, in a straight line from sky to ground.  The air is still.  The raspy screech of another hawk somewhere off in the distance is carried across the hills and the pond.

I wonder why all the birds don’t fly south to escape the cold and snow, leaving us birdless for a season.

Day 21.

ghosts

The scent of onions and garlic linger,
ghosts of last night’s dinner
roaming through the house.

A small stone for Day 19.

morning tea

perched on a stool in the kitchen
bare feet gripping the rungs
hands embracing the warmth of a cuppa
I watch the snowflakes bob and boogie
to the music on the radio

Day 18.

A January ramble in the woods

The air is crisp and cool, biting on the inhale, an underlying essence of pine carried by the breeze in the coniferous forest.  Sunlight streams through the trees, misty from the thawing snow and ice.  Traversing the swampy and unstable pathways, we tread carefully, occasionally getting mired in the mud.  A joyful January ramble in the woods.

The photo and thoughts are from a hike I took with my husband yesterday.  I’m semi-disconnecting on Sundays and scheduled this to stand in for me until I return on Monday.  A small stone for day 8.

Citrus-y morning

Citrus-y Morning

Peeling the clementine, fingernails digging into the bumpy skin
Orange-y scent rises up
My body POPS! awake
Caffeine for the nose.
I place a segment in my mouth
and smile at the burst of citrus-y pleasure
that washes across my tongue.
The scent stays with me for hours
Released from my hands and into the air with a gesture.

I joined a river of stones for fun and challenge.  I originally thought I might post my small stones (if I posted them at all) over at Life in the Bogs, but now I’m thinking Bountiful Healing will be a good place for these little moments of life.  It’s sort of a safe space, with fewer followers.  I can hear a voice in my head calling, “Chicken!”  This is a different type of writing for me so, yes… call me Chicken.  For now.

this morning’s passing breeze

Moths in the meadow on a breezy morning

All beings are encompassed within one all-encompassing great energy:  So I understood from the coolness of this morning’s passing breeze.

~ Mumon Ekai

for the birds

I hope you love birds too.  It is economical.  It saves going to heaven.

~ Emily Dickinson

seeds

Is childhood ever long enough, or a happy time, or even a beautiful summer day?  All of these carry the seeds of the same fierce mystery that we call death.

~ Eugene Kennedy

Listen…

 

The wind blows hard among the pines
Toward the beginning
Of an endless past.
Listen: you’ve heard everything.

~ Shinkichi Takahashi, Zen Poems of China and Japan, Lucien Stryk, p. 125