Archive for the ‘death and new life’ Category

Winter Remembers the Spring

Sunday, February 28th, 2010

spring

I walk out into the desert’s winter, watching for signs.

The blonde brittle grasses part, giving me a glimpse of apple green beneath.

The hard ground softens for ants wakening to build spring mounds.

Black broken trees play dead, but tell me the sap is rising like warm honey in their limbs.

The mountains’ sprinkling of sugar pours down into liquid in the washes.

Wildflowers are plotting from deep within their seeds, imagining their riot.

And I thrill to the feel of my heart widening into the sweet flow of breath within.

The land is remembering me into new life.

Stormy Weather

Thursday, January 21st, 2010

stormy ocean

I am lucky enough right this minute to be sitting by a large window looking out to a very stormy sea. You may have read about the series of big storms hitting the Santa Barbara area of California, and that’s where I am, on my yearly retreat with a women’s group I’ve known for 30 years.

We’ve had to rush out of the house every time the rain clears for a quick walk before diving back into the warmth of the fire. Not what we had planned. But does this qualify as BAD weather?

This group of women ranges from mid-50’s to almost 70, and we’ve seen some stormy times. Eight lives, eight stories, eight sets of weather that could make the hardiest person shiver. Three bouts of cancer in the group. Four divorces. One death of a child. Traumas with all the children who lived. Many tests of faith. And yet, as we listen to each other, we wonder: were these storms in our lives BAD?

Not one of us relishes or courts drama, and not one would wish suffering on another. But each time a roaring wind has struck us it has dragged gifts along with it. The learning and growth in this group is stunning. Maybe stormy weather isn’t bad, but just stormy.

The wind sweeps long rooster tails from the crest of each grey and white wave. Mud swirls at the shoreline, where a creek is depositing debris from the mountains. Gulls venture out to scout for surprises, new life deposited on the shore, fuel for whatever weather comes next. And I sit in comfort, just watching the drama, the wonder, the life force.

Solstice images

Wednesday, December 9th, 2009

Desert Solstice

Golden grasses,
brittle branches breaking underfoot,
hidden water,
last leaves gripping black mesquites.
In this desert
things are dying.

Quail bedded down
burst forth as I pass.
Surprising red plants flow along the wash.
The thrill of my own breath moves faster,
echoing the rising wind.
In this desert
something new is coming.

Cells fall away in me,
brittle old ideas breaking apart.
Old juices lay hidden away, reserved for drought.
I change every day, now faster and
in the dry, arid places of me
things are dying.

An explosion of wings breaks through my soul.
Colors appear, flowing through my center.
My life force quickens
as a storm gathers within me, promising flow.
In this desert within,
dark with winter,
light is coming.
                          Pamela Hale, 2009

Desert solstice_opt

And you?  How do you experience winter and solstice time in your outer landscape?  How about your inner one?  Does nature act as a mirror for you?

Teeter totter

Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009

Ever been on a seesaw? I’m not just talking about when you were little. How about in a relationship where one minute you’re up and the next you’re oh-so-down? How about in our economy where a couple of years ago you were way up there on Easy Street and now you’re wondering if you could end up down on Skid Row?

Every spiritual tradition teaches that when we can give up our attachment to these conditions, these poles of up and down, we are freed and enlightened. Easy for “them” to say when you’re on the seesaw! How do you do it?

Today it occurred to me (dizzy from the descent from up to down) that the only way to find stability on a seesaw is to go toward center. The center is the fulcrum, the support, the still point. It must be sturdy and securely positioned in the earth for the seesaw to be safe. It is what needs to be maintained first.

How do you maintain the center support? Well, for one thing, you have to just pay attention to it. I forget sometimes to just ask how my center support is and whether it needs maintenance.

Then I ask myself what kind of maintenance it needs. One day it might be meditation. At other times a walk on the earth works best. For me, solitude is essential. Yet there are those days when there’s nothing like a good friend to reminds you you’re not crazy. Finding my sense of humor is always a relief. Spiritual practices are meant for maintaining the center.

So when you’re up, that’s great—and we know that we will eventually come down. And, being down is also a temporary state. Being human, it seems we are a seesaw and are influenced to a degree by the changing “weather” outside us.

And, we are the center. We are the fulcrum, the still point. We are the essence and we are connected to the earth.

When we find our center, we can tolerate ups and downs and keep our balance. At least we can as long as we keep the part of us alive that is forever the child—and remember that this journey is really play.

Maggie