Autumn Equinox

Change is in the air. Although the humidity feels like peak summer, there is no denying the surrounding signs of autumn. Foliage trades green for yellow. Goldfinches, still tawny, graze the Echinacea seed heads. Spider webs large and small pop up unannounced on familiar pathways.

Ever changing also is pain’s ebb and flow for the creature(s) you love. Some of them are afloat in the blessing bowl. Here is my equinox prayer for us. It’s adapted from Peter Traben Haas in Centering Prayers, 2013.

Help me to stay open to love in this world of pain. Do not let me close down in hurt; open me through forgiveness. When I turn inward in my worries, lift my eyes skyward. If I feel unworthy in loneliness, remind me of my infinitesimal but essential value serving life on our sometimes dreary planet. In silence and surrender, draw me to love.

Summer Haikus

JUNE
Overdue cleaning
BAM! Radiant cool results
refrigerator

JULY
Beyond hotcha plus
Snowbirds have it all backwards
Now go, winter stay

AUGUST
Jasper's B+ poops
Bella's blinking butterflies
one hundred dog days

SEPTEMBER
September acorns
teasing Bella as they fall
Autumn coming down

Full Moon Float

What is required to stay afloat? A medium- typically water, the elixir of life-and buoyancy. Inflatable lungs are handy. You inhale, hold gently, lean back and surrender.

The surrender is the tricky part. It took me several childhood summers and lots of adult loving encouragement i.e.; trust building, to learn to float. Now I crave it.

I sat poolside Friday waiting for the noon joints-in-motion class to start. When I realized that by some quirky twist of circumstances I would be the only student that day I said to the PT who leads us, “If it’s all the same to you, I’d just like to swim.”

“Be my guest,” she replied. She got goggles for both of us and we swam and stretched for nearly an hour. It was heavenly despite no view of sky. And quiet. No instructions, no conversation. I ended my healing time in the water with a luxuriously long float.

And that is when I thought to myself, “What else might I surrender? What more can I release?  What things, people, beliefs, behaviors that block healing – what might any of us let go?”

August Waning

August waning, this year’s grin garden is at its peak. Tucked in and viewable from only 25 feet of gravel road frontage, it’s easy to miss on P Avenue. We call it “P as in peaceful”, but it is often not. That rural road hosts a stunning number of vehicles in big hurries.  I wonder how many people spot the wee garden and how many smiles it evokes. I pull the tan van in or out of there at least once a day. The garden’s surprise has worn off for me, but I still can’t help but smile…