Sunday, March 27, 2011


Coming up from the barn this morning I paused on the studio porch to look out at the intense green of my neighbor's pasture and the shapes of budding trees in the cold spring fog. In that pause I encountered the silence underlying all the sense impressions of chill and woodsmoke and greening spring. I love sitting in meditation because it allows me to rest in that fertile stillness but am aware that it is available always and that my life is a dance that is constantly emerging from it, sometimes difficult and sometimes graceful. It is my source and the source of all that is. I trip over words for it...God, The Great Mystery, The Divine. I treasure its ineffable quality. It is available so easily to children who do not have the annoying boundaries of reason and fact and intellect.  I can remember being a weird kid sitting in the tops of trees and lying under bushes on sweet warm days just being. I was a dreamy careless child, often late, losing and tripping over things. I still love to just wander and let my mind go. I forget to return calls, check email, buy eggs. I have a routine with the animals and fortunately do not forget them. I love just hanging out in my life so I guess I am emerging today as a dreamy, careless old woman but what a lovely gift those few minutes of unplanned meditation in the spring mist this morning.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Stopping By Woods

with a bow to Robert Frost..This morning silent snow falling as I walked up the hill from the barn. I stopped and looked out on the grayscale landscape, white hills punctuated by the various dark and darker shapes of buildings, trees and stone walls.  Something is so deeply beautiful in the lack of color. We live in a world of stunning visual stimulation. From bright clothes to HDTV, our eyes and brains are occupied constantly in a riot of red and yellow and green.  I love color. I love playing with it, living in it and the celebration of the senses that it provokes, but something in my soul is soothed and healed by the quiet monochromatic world that a snowy morning creates. I love music and the sound of voices, but the falling snow on a path in the woods is a prayer call to silence. Here in the mountains each season offers its messages. Spring brings the rising of energy, summer the steady lush growing, autumn the brilliant dance of gratitude.  Winter tells me to go inward and abide in what I experience as "the silence under silence" the ineffable ever present pure love that is experienced when my mind is at rest. When I stand on the snowy path I am reminded.