Thoughts words and actions from Grandma
In the damp humid air fungus emerges from the forest floor, ascending, growing tags like shells. Each one a moment when you allowed yourself to accept limited love and to be less than who you really are because it was not enough or it was too much.
Sean just doesn’t understand why he never gets a second or a third date. He goes to the gym at least 5 times a week, dresses in complimentary colors, and remembers to listen intently. Sometimes he actually holds his breath when others are talking.
He read somewhere that in order to seem desirable he had to stand out which to him seems ridiculous because it’s so natural to blend in. Maybe he’ll work on his voice next.
When you choose to love for who they are. When the parts of them that are not pretty, but hardened and stubborn and want to reach up to the light or down into the earth, but still want growth, life. When full acceptance of their joyous passions and their tortured wounds are met with your mindful embrace.
Then and only then will you love unconditionaly.
If I can’t fly then I want to be a tree, strong and resilient, whose roots form webs and networks with it’s tribe, always an exhale, always a balance a compliment.
Always alive even when life steps in with heavy rains and wind, when my branches break or worms make bags and pockets and eat my leaves. Even when squirrels make nests, ugh those squirrels. Even when the woodpeckers dig and dig and find those bugs.
I still exhale. Even when a person comes and takes my bark, my skin. Even when I’m broken or cut down.
Still then I have my tribe, my network, my web. And I exhale.
If I can’t fly I want to be a tree.
“From her heart grows a tree” whose bark has peeled and chipped, now leaving exposed wood growing moss and green creatures fertile with new life to pass. She is solid below the surface, and confident the new chapter will take root.
Thank you Melanie. See her post here. I hope I did this right! 🙂
https://nature-led.org/2021/07/27/from-her-heart-grows-a-tree/
Edward felt that all those years of practice was beginning to pay off. He’d actually landed a spot in the symphony! The only problem was that he let him self go over that past year and now his waistband was just a bit too tight. The other flutists are taking bets to see how long it will take before he pops a blood vessel in his eye from blowing a bit too hard.
Layer peels away, holding the imprint of your life. It twists until it shapes and forms a roll that takes itself away. Your outer layer removed, reveals, and inside you see the source of the imprint. You see the life you’ve had, your experiences like photos on a board. All of those moments down to just photos on a board, lines on bark, and to your surprise those lines are embedded amongst a universe of stars and galaxies. You are the very fabric of creation, the moss, the lichen, the bark.
Your roots reach into the dust of another’s life that once was long before you, the connection deep and lasting. Your lines to be dust for another life yet to come.
Paul was always in the back row of the choir not just because he was one of the tallest but because he was one of the loudest and that’s not necessarily a good thing. He had a unique talent for always harmonizing in the correct key and still keep gum in his mouth.
Josh had eyes that made women swoon. Too bad he didn’t get a chance to show them off this past week. He met up some of his friends who rode across the Kancamangus Highway. As usual, he was in the front of the pack when they hit a swarm of flies. It wasn’t the first time he and his group of friends pulled bugs out of their teeth, noses and hair but it was the first time one hit him right in the eye.
It’s been a week since he’s been able to wink at the hot chick on the Harley since the fly incident. She got his phone number. He still has it.
She waits for him to come and take her away, to pull her out roots and all, from the only place she’s known. To remove the memories, the familiar places she still visits, because she can’t. She can’t remove them.
She waits for his new love to heal her. To open her and bring her to where she knows she should be. To complete the accent.
She waits for him to join her in the work. The light. The love. The help meant to raise vibrations and lift hearts.
She’s ready.
Grounded Wisdom 