Last night’s rain continued this morning, and it’s predicted to rain all day. However there was a brief clearing after dawn, gifting me a comfortable chance to venture outside and discover what would be today’s rendezvous. Today it turned out to be a patch of seemingly carefree columbines — purple, pink, and orange/yellow — growing … Continue reading Divine Multiplicity
Leaving the house early this morning, My sweater was insufficient for the unexpected cool air, heavy with dampness. Unable to ignore the discomfort or power through it, the chill lingered. But it did evoke fond memories of camping over the years — images of leaving the warmth of my sleeping bag at dawn to rekindle … Continue reading Mother’s Day Blossoms
The overnight rain continued at dawn. A quiet morning, no sign of people outside save for a few preoccupied dog walkers. The scent of a wood fire was in the air, a neighbor’s habit for bringing a warm, cozy welcome to a damp and dreary day. The gentle rain and abundance of puddles evoked so … Continue reading Welcome Day
I didn’t have to walk far this drizzly overcast morning before my eye was drawn to a glorious pale violet bloom bearing an intense yellow throat and bejeweled with water droplets — today’s early morning work of an iris rooted in the NC Piedmont red clay. My wife and I have been discussing the … Continue reading Cleave Dancing
On an early morning walk, the cheerful exuberance of clover thriving in the cracks of a brick stairway caught my eye. I love tracing the graceful arc of the stems and marveling at the multitude of blooms condensed into each lovely sphere of flowers. The spent flowers falling toward their stem speak of a prior … Continue reading Ground of Being
Today it was abundantly clear that the local neighborhood ants got an early start (surely even before dawn?) — for their handiwork was evident along many sidewalk crevices. I’ve been thinking a lot about detachment, since reading and reflecting on Meister Eckhart’s writings. I ponder detachment, that is, when I’m not thinking obsessively about clay … Continue reading Leaving and Cleaving
The stairs lead steeply up to a garden gate, which graciously reveals she is *not* locked. She speaks a plain, “Yes, come in,” but with the unlocked padlock still displayed, it’s a welcome that tells me, reminds me, how I so like to secure thresholds, keep them known to me and under my control. Today’s … Continue reading Freedom
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