Thoughts words and actions from Grandma
chirps of cardinals, wind pushing cool air onto my cheek rosy with frost, fresh and tingling almost burning, my steps rhythmic crunching and crunching as I move forward in my desire, the desire to change the landscape of my life from frost to mud, then warm sun, golden
Out of the frost I move with conviction to change.
What kind of person thinks of this when someone mentions “the morning after”?
What kind of person is willing to have cold feet just so that they can break the trail?
What kind of person only takes a sip of water or removes their glove in the sunny parts because they don’t want to cool off too quickly?
What kind of person thinks that the soft glow of the sun as it filters through silver trees and blue snow is one of the most beautiful sights in winter?
Me. Grateful. Happy.
I’ve been making hats big, small, different colors and patterns. They’re crocheted around and constructed from the inside out so that I’m making a bowl that just keeps getting bigger. They’re awful but I can’t stop making them. It’s something about the process, the circle round or the fact that it’s a bowl I’m not sure but I keep showing up at family member’s homes announcing that I’ve arrived with another bag full of ill-fitting hats. Maybe it is a way for me to start a new year, a new ring around my life.
Crunchy steps under spiked boots on mud and ice. Slow drops on branch tips unable to decide if they were liquid or solid. Rain and 37 degrees making wet clothes from the rain and from the sweat. Raw wind as welcome relief from my body overheating, yet the air was fresh. The forest’s exhale was a gift. Despite the unpleasant conditions, the externals, the air brought me to the moment. The perfect moment when my sweaty body was refreshed. The misty raw air, hitting my face was wet and wild and alive, and I was free from that which was unpleasant.
May this year bring you the freedom to be wet and wild and alive and not be pulled out of that beautiful moment by externals.
My breath labored. Yesterdays footprints taken by the wind. Sun heightening snows colors as crystals of blue, and purple, and an occasional red.
It was just an ordinary day but it wasn’t because I was not in the office. Instead, I was hiking, as I wish I could always be. There before me was the most wonderful moment, quiet except for my breath and the wind clanking frozen tree branches like windchimes. In that moment I closed my eyes and became one with the land, happily, no presents, no pressure to get it right or be right, the best holiday ever.
When the warm winds blow melting ice and snow, removing winter for just a day, all that remains is the reflection of deep blue sky and leaves brown limp and soggy.
Even though it is painful beyond belief, the clarity you receive from a tough conversation is worth it because you have the opportunity to heal and move on.
“The lotus is the seat of great sages and saints, buddhas and bodhisatvas, all those who have refined their consciousness to a state where they can root themselves in life’s muddy soil and use its fertility as compost to blossom the soul.”- Sally Kempton
In this light the divine calls to me in textured bark vibrant brown and gold, blue sky and crunchy steps, filling my heart with joy and gratitude then having only one desire- the wish that I had man parts when nature called.
Pine scented, ice pelting air devoid of any warmth yet quiet and centering. Branches heavy with soft snow yet alive, warm with insulation.
When we look to nature to bring about our own understanding of self and how we fit into the whole, a new world emerges showing us extremes that coexist. It is in these extremes that we realize that we are able to exist and thrive, comfort and strengthen each other as one.
Maybe we could try embracing diversity? It seems to work pretty well in nature.
First winter hike. Cold. Numb. Windy. Runny nose. Happy.
They stand like whiskers, unruly and thick, without uniformity. Their green foliage, then vibrant now past, lay as brown and tan, light and dry soon be next year’s soil. Not a hint of the past, of what it was in color but instead a different form and a different role.
Looking at the bigger picture, we can see the seasons as a chance to step back and be small, and allow the wonder of nature carry us into another opportunity; maybe one we did not expect or one that allows our past, our knowledge, our vibrant life that once was, to be transformed into something new and useful to the whole.
Grounded Wisdom 