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Ecologia y yo!!!
There is a tradition here that the rainy season begins on June 24th. It’s connected to a legend that the Spanish explorer Francisco Vásquez de Coronado prayed for rain on June 24, 1540, the feast day of St. John the Baptist, and after his prayers, it rained. And so it was this year. The rain…
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Junko’s birth-day
Circle Dance My mother birthed us into this lifeHer daughters birthed her into death.Now she carries us again in her spirit-body,her wisdom flowering out filling the spaces and gaps, closing the arcbegun as a tentative lovenow ripe, stretched,this time in surrender to the lightthe one-longinghers, mine, ours – since the beginning.
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Peace-able
Yesterday some men came and stole our mango crop. They penetrated the fence the furthest side from the house into the north orchard where a deer lived a protected life. We don’t know what happened, whether they tried to catch the deer or taunted him, but the deer escaped from our refuge by ramming a…
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More scenes from my kitchen …
It’s a surprise to realize I haven’t blogged in over a year … Just goes to show that sometimes the current is swift as we allow the river of life to carry us. Today is baking day – the best day of the week for me. Tomorrow is market day. I put the satellite radio…
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All souls and stuff
All Souls Day, the Day of the Dead has passed. We drank, ate, laughed and cried with the company of all souls. The cemetery was filled was a cacophony of people, children, dogs, boom boxes and roving musicians. Graves were piled high with flowers and tables were laden with food and drink, braziers wafting the…
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Nest and nester…
My husband, Wally’s rough hands cup a chick. The rainy season is a harsh environment for the little ones. He has brought the hatchling for me to keep warm and sheltered, to give her a chance of surviving this setback. We’ve done this countless times. Sometimes I put the little life in the front of…
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Body theology…
Capable Flesh The tender flesh itselfwill be found one day– quite surprisingly – to be capable of receiving,and yes, fullcapable of embracingthe searing energies of God.Go figure. Fear not.For even at its beginningthe humble clay receivedGod’s art, wherebyone part became the eye,another the ear, and yetanother this impetuous hand.Therefore, the fleshis not to be excludedfrom the…
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The joy of gentle motion
My mother’s passion was ballet. She began taking lessons when I was a teenager. She was a “natural”. Her body and soul responded to music like a sea anemone in a tidal pool. The discipline of ballet was the firm bed of sand on which her art rested, turning the things she felt into poetry…
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Threshold of a journey…
My mother’s death was a threshold and now grief is ancient journey to something new (?) I don’t know. I’m in a state of grace, not knowing, just being, not doing. It’s not what I expected and that’s it exactly! I am embraced by mystery, a mystery which is at the heart of everything.
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Pausing on a threshold…
It’s good to be dry when the rain is coming down hard. The sound of rumbling in the distance, the closeness of the rain on the windows, the leaves of the vines shimmering-shiny against the glass. Everyday the dark clouds build to a crescendo over the mountains and the ocean. It’s a dramatic visual development,…