Empathic contact with the living planet….beholding, pure and simple.~John Lamb Lash
As day begins, I weave intentional
loving strands. No qualms, unconventional, a vibrant reminder to bronchioles: breathing, we do our part. Unlock keyholes
to now where pure creation moves us through
the loom, each interlacing skein imbued. Unique patterns emerge smooth and knotty. I show up powerful. Call me haughty,
naughty, even dotty. My heart is clear.
My contribution in love’s hues mirrors the energetic dance. Once realized, the beauty of each thread intensifies.
Inspired by: Qualms, Bronchiole, Reminder, Haughty and morning chores nourishing and keeping alive the gorgeous living beings at the house where I’m petsitting.
Be grateful that you see your sovereignty.~John Lamb Lash
Before dawn, songbirds instruct decorous
gratitude grounded through lightening skies. No fuss, unstinting praise. I cast my eyes eastward and earth calls my bare feet. This day’s
mine, I claim the nowness seeping. Aware
I cease sleeping, taste and feel the very air supporting my flourish. Being nourished in countless ways. Summoning my courage
speaking my unique truth. Proclaim essence
guttural, impressive earthbound presence. Separate fairytales. Common sense laughs at the calendar’s programmed events.
The soil, the blooms, cicadas, butterflies
each moment charging before my stunned eyes. Behind me, in a fervor, the old pup dumps the trash can, gleeful, tearing things up.
Inspired by: Calendar, Guttural, Impressive and Decorous.
Unless there is internal force for resistance, psychic immunity, so to speak, the individual psyche will adapt to the stress of the collective imagination. It will become what it believes and forget what it knows.~John Lamb Lash
How does one gainsay vacuous culture
built on false premises? Foolish things sure to topple in the ring of sound inner knowing, but the words are colored. Sinner
take warning. Perpetrator victim bond
is sealed. Rat race mouse wheel and I respond to abject pleas and harsh commands: join in. Homeless, unemployed, I have no coin in
and yet my heart aches as the clones skitter
surface glitter, find the next outfitter. And how easily they could new create if they could just release this grasping hate.
Inspired by: the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt color/colour, vacuous, foolish things, skitter and gainsay.
Featured image: a tricolored beech outside of my window.
In the rain at dawn, inconsolable
abed, he doesn’t even lift his head. Adorable and grumpy old man missing the woman prone to kissing. She had warned
mornings he likes to be alone. We fit
surreal, exact behavior pet sit repeated and reflected for my heart’s sweet wisdom teaching. I’m reaching to start
a new way of being. So releasing
old perspectives, new idioms teasing from the weighted words designed to enslave. Experience I generate now, brave
and willing to share what keeps revealing
each strong bright presence no more concealing how we flower in our time through stages creation we source unique, outrageous.
Inspired by: and the gorgeous blooming yard where I’m petsitting. Idiom, Rain, Surreal, Exact
Stacked sympathy cards lie like a stymie
in the line of play. Victims cry, why me, finally see how they screwed up, fooled around. The accusations fly, the guilt abounds.
Here in my path of service, aiming high
I praise morning, stare into glary sky. I’ve learned I’m ever in the place I need to be, intuitive vigilance heed. Each wise whispered heart-voice counsels to still and in creative space, imagine, drill past all the seeming obstacles. The shag untidy begs a second glance. Tool bag
brimming, I center, ground and breathe. Expand
beyond constraints of time. At my command joy rises, flavored by the grief. This pain I savor, so intense yet brief, free rein.
Inspired by: Screw, Stymie, Shag and (featured image) the ongoing visitation by beautiful white flying beings, which bring my mother into my presence with great joy.
Morning prayers pull me into overviews–
half-moon clean-scrubbed by pink lingering. Blues emerging. A startled flock bursts above and I’m off to the races, sensing love
life a precious blessing as finally
I’m right where I’m supposed to be, free from all the old egregious tales of woe. What matters are my thoughts and words and though
the others struggle, I am clear as we
sit silently in peace, admire the view as lake paints watercolors, dabbling hues and praised by songbirds, trilling love’s breakthroughs.
Inspired by: Overview, Off, Prayer and Egregious.
Sunrise paints a glorious rosy burst
outside my window so it’s camera first and rhymes follow as it fades. Ducks waddle through shore grasses as starstruck I dawdle.
This throng of spirit messengers: bluebirds’
brilliant plumage muted in dawn’s light; words pin perceptions to past. Being outlasts and sweeps away the stories with a blast.
I have no namesake to be molded by
some careless false history. See the sky in constant change, each feathered mystery delivering the key to liberty.
Inspired by: Namesake, Window and Throng.
These timelines shift like water snakes slither
over stones, plop into clear reflective lake to vee across expanses whither I don’t know. Intuition’s detective
leaves the head, inspires the gut until what
and who and how and why and where are shut into the cage that past has wrought. The new I must imagine, my creations brew.
Inspired by: Head.
Do not strive for more comprehension than that which appears effortlessly. You will know what you need to know and remember what you have forgotten.~Ken Carey
Daily entry into applications
allows insight. Poetic creations vehicles for the venerable who read and leap into deep waters. The few
mermaids who cling to rocks and sing, bidden
siren-calls outside the box. Truth hidden beneath propaganda to mesmerize technologies’ captives. They’ll soon capsize.
Being entitles you to breath. From hence,
sovereignty’s found through experience. Beyond the slavery of language spells freedom arises, prized. You know it well.
Inspired by: Mermaid, Entitle, Application and Venerable.
Featured image taken on the lake yesterday. Who knows what lies beneath?
Something happens to you when you begin to think about this planet as a single living organism. And when you begin to live in that awareness, nothing is ever again quite the same.~Ken Carey
Thin wraiths dance eastward over warm waters.
Chilled and bundled in fleece, I watch as geese emerge like stones waking to feed, such greed as light reveals their hiding place. They honk
alarms along the gosling-littered tarmac
path, such charm, but shoes a must. Fingers chilled but here outside my passions rise. I’m filled with joy and peace. You want to talk vaccines.
Just look, my crooked face, heavy metals trace–
that clear view reveals my stand. Unrespected population propagandized nations caught in fear, learning controlled, injected
by calamity we cannot see, fish
swimming in an unsensed sea, yet we wish for unity, attend group-think workshops to train out all individuality.
There is no lottery to win. Within
unique imagination is built in, our saving grace. We pause and listen, give space to the underlying love we live.
Inspired by: Lottery, Workshop, Vaccine and Calamity and these books: Crooked: Man-made Disease Explained by Forest Maready and What Really Makes You Ill, Why Everything You Thought You Knew About Disease Is Wrong, by Dawn Lester and David Parker.
Featured image: a great blue heron fishing this morning as I tried to capture the fog dancing along the lake surface. Below image: I tried to capture the eery fog a bit later when the sun began to rise.