Silvery moonlight streams through the window
and onto the sticky mat
Where I am
Becoming
Space
Expanding
Gliding over the ice
Sohum
(I am that I am)
Riding the moonlight
How to hike in the Bogs: Take deep, deep belly breathes. Right down to your toes. Place one foot in front of the other. Step, slip, slide, pull, be grateful your boots are so firmly attached you can escape the suction of the mud trying to draw you down into the wet earth without leaving a boot or two behind. Smile. A lot. Sing. Listen to the birds answer your song. A walking stick is useful but not essential. Accept and enjoy the mud, the puddles, and the overall bogginess. Stop and admire the reflection of the sun and tree branches in the melting ice. Walk slowly. Magic happens. You’ll miss it if you move too fast.
Daily walks are an adventure lately. Between the record setting rainfall in 2011 and the melting of the foot or so of snow we had last week, the ground is soggy. The top photo was processed in Photoshop. It’s one of those trails through the woods where magic happens.
Sun and tree branches reflected in the melting ice.
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.
Pulled from sleep, I leave the warmth of the bed, pad barefoot across the cold hardwood floor. At the window, the golden glow of an almost full moon lights up the sky, and pours over the icy surface of the pond. We greet each other in the stillness of early morning, a luminous embrace.
bubbling, babbling, burbling
the gurgling gush of the January thaw
water sprites splashing in the stream
Because we have not had a proper winter — lots of rain, warm weather, and very little in the way of ice and snow — I hesitated to use the term January Thaw, but it is January and the snow and ice from the past few days is quickly thawing as it warms up again. Good enough. 🙂
tadasana
feet planted solidly
reconnecting to earth
lengthening, strengthening
standing strong and firm and balanced
a stable, powerful foundation — Mountain Pose
From this morning’s yoga practice, a small stone for Day 5.
I never before noticed the hissing sound the gas on the stove makes until the power went out last night and I had to cook dinner in the quiet absence of all electricity. Candles flickered in the darkness as we spent the evening playing a dice game at the dining room table, talking, laughing, losing, winning, spending time with each other instead of in the company of the television or computer. Flashlights guided us through the suddenly unfamiliar maze of the house. We camped out in the living room, a mattress on the floor, layers of blankets heaped on top. The curious cats massaged us with their feet, walking and sniffing and marveling at the movement and transformation of the everyday to the extraordinary. “A mattress on the floor?” they seemed to ask, and then, “A mattress on the floor!” as they bounded around and finally settled in. Heat from the fireplace kept our toes toasty while the encroaching cold nipped and numbed our noses. Sleep was easy to come by and deep in dreams.
Day 4’s small stone, written in the wee hours of the morning when the power was restored. It’s shocking, especially in the middle of the night, when everything comes back on, beeping and clicking and rumbling.
Last night happened to be one of the coldest of the season so far, and I was amazed at how quickly the house cooled down once the electricity was gone.
Winter falls silently across the morning,
a blanket of snow stretches over the dreaming earth.
Unmarked paths of white wait in quietude.
My January 3rd small stone, tossed into the river.
I found this difficult to do today, and had many thoughts about giving up. It is almost impossible, it seems to me, to capture in words or photos the beauty of the first big snowfall, when the world is hushed and the snowflakes waltz down from the sky, romancing the earth before covering her in winter’s white and sparkling jewels and clothing.
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.
Fairytales were maps formed of blood and hair and bones; they were the knots of the sub-conscious unwound. Every word in every tale was real and as true as apples and stones. They all led to the story inside the story.
~ Alice Hoffman
Bountiful Healing 