The leaves change here Oranges and reds popping out Amongst stubborn green The wind shifts Autumn comes to call The world leans in here Demands life to slow down The quiet season is coming The world makes ready its winter bed Telling you to pull out your blankets Candles and hearthfires Demanding preparations for long nights Wood smoke and hot chocolates And much needed rest
At the edge of the longest day I gathered drops of sunlight into a bottle Secured it with cord and hung it at my throat Warmth and light illuminated my path Freeing me to see that I did not only hold the light I was the light and the light was me As I journeyed through the crossroads I shed the darkness I had allowed to consume me Abandoned it like a wool cloak on Midsummer day Moved forward ensconced in my own powerful light Willing into truth I'd never be dimmed again
I exited the crossroads The weight of unworthiness falling away behind me I salted the path as I walked Erecting a barrier against old demons who might follow I reminded myself that joy cannot grow in poisoned soil I vowed to never return to this infertile place Gnarled roots and sharp thorns grabbed at me Tried to hold me in that familiar barren land I would no longer be held My light became a glowing blade of will And I rended myself free of the patterns of my past Leaving them as sacrifices at the edge of this intersection Of my old life and new
I followed the road's gentle path through new lands When I came to a willow by a stream Raw, ravaged and weary I sat beneath its shaded canopy and allowed myself to rest I wrapped myself in the cool, green safety beneath its branches I put down my burdens I rinsed my wounds Lulled into meditation by the whispering water I allowed myself to feel peace in place of vigilance I listened to the birds above me The crickets around me I allowed myself to be present I allowed myself to feel The dappled light on my skin The kisses of the sweet breeze on my cheeks The cool, damp grass beneath me The steady, gentle beat of my heart The slow rhythm of my breathing
In that tranquil place Of healing Of new beginning Of rebalancing In that moment where I was Obligated to no one by myself In that space where I remembered how simple joy can be I cupped the bottle of sunlight to my chest And knew I'd never fear the shadows again
American Bison are commonly known as the American Buffalo And are the national mammal of the United States These grand beasts have evolved to adapt to the harsh North American Great Plains winters They have vast biological adaptations to allow them to thrive in the volatile environment They evolved physically optimized to survive Yet their most fascinating adaptation is behavioral Unlike nearly every other wild and domestic creature Buffalo do not flee from the sweeping brutal storms that cross the landscape They put down their massive heads and turn into the maelstrom They meet the fury and ferocity eye to eye They seem to inherently understand The only way out is through Resisting the sky is futile The sooner the storm is met The less time it has to intensify The sooner they can emerge from its dangers No wonder indigenous people hold them sacred To meet the fury of nature unflinchingly Steadfast and secure in the innate knowing Passed down through generations That buffalo are built to endure Creating their own harmony with their world Writing their own survival rules Wise teachers for us all
I want to splash the darkening sky with rivers of fire Purples and reds and luminous oranges of sunset And the waters will abstract my painting in its dark mirror surface Making an abstract of my realism A dream of my reality
Spring has arrived Birds sing sweetly In quickening branches bursting with blooms My winter soul peers out of bleary eyes Before I pull the covers over my head
Isn't it funny how carpenter bees think themselves no less dainty than honey bees? They faithfully believe the flower will support them even when the stem bends toward the ground. They aren't exactly wrong.
Words Wishes and Wisdom 