Archive

Apr 05

Spring – and Grace – Will Arrive

It’s spring, and I’ve returned to my practice of sitting outside upon rising. Most mornings, just as the sun peeks over the trees behind my neighbor’s house across the street, I go outdoors and sit for a few minutes. My hot tea in hand warms me as I sip, holding both hands around the mug. I feel the firm earth beneath me, supporting me on my journey through the day. It is a time that I attempt to quiet my mind and listen to Spirit speak to me through nature.

Some days, the juncos are busy scavenging for seeds; others I just hear the hidden birdsong of others breeds hidden in the oaks trees and pine needles above. Often, a black squirrel will scuttle along the top of the fence, his super-highway to the yard nextdoor. This is my favorite time of the year to be doing this practice, as I can see the changes that spring brings almost from day to day. I watch our California poppies change from just 3 blossoms to 8 in 24 hours.

I ask for a message, some guidance, from the Divine, and then wait. It’s not that I expect something magical and stupendous to occur. It’s more that I wait for my perception to be guided to what I need to see in order to receive my message. Continue Reading »

Mar 14

The Ring of Faith

My family and I were determined to get outdoors to enjoy the lovely weather the last few days, and headed to Huddart Park for a hike on Sunday. We adore this nearby natural gem, filled with redwoods, bay laurels, and tan oaks, and a beautiful (and quite full after the rains!) creek running through it.

We marveled at the wildflowers already in bloom – some dainty, five-petaled white blossoms, and the sweet lavender flowers of redwood sorrel, which I had never seen in bloom before. They were profuse and a delight to the eyes.

Near the last half-mile of our modest adventure my daughter and I stopped at a stream, as we often do, to explore and to enjoy rock face painting. This is something she learned from Katie Hicks at our last retreat at Ananda Valley Farm. Taking a rock about the size of your palm in one hand, you select a colorful rock that can easily be held by the other, and rub it on the rock. After a minute or so, viola – paint is created! We enjoyed decorating each other’s faces in reddish-brown and greyish-yellow designs.

My husband decided to move along the trail ahead of us while we were immersed in our playfulness. He stepped off-trail at another familiar spot along the creek, headed a bit upstream, and sat down on a beautiful, warm, sunny spot on the slope about 10 feet above the creek. It was peaceful, meditative, and relaxing.

As my daughter and I finished up our faces, we headed up the trail to catch up with Michael. We looked upstream and didn’t see him, so we figured he must have headed back to the car. After 30 minutes of waiting for him in the parking lot, he arrived, looking a bit flustered. Upon descending the slope where he had sat in quiet reflection, he slipped and fell on his hip. His knee was scraped, and he was OK, but quite unhappy. Not because of his injuries, but because in the process his wedding band slipped off his finger, and it was nowhere in sight.
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