I know this is garlic and not onions, but the metaphor holds.
1. Onions. All those layers of self to peel through, each crisp paper pulling away as it is shed.
2. Roots. The roots of the roots.
3. Support. Again. There when I need it, from so many corners.
4. Sychronicity. It has been uncanny in these Advent days how at just the moment that I am experiencing a challenge of some sort, the morning’s spiritual practices are referring to the exact challenge that I am living through.
5. And finally, I think I am ready to say that I am actually grateful for the particular challenges that are currently on my plate. Likely I have not yet learned from them all that I need to learn, but I think that they are teaching me. At least I feel myself learning, little by little, how to manage the quick rush of indignation, the wounded wildcat impulse to attack back, the urge to be right, to explain myself. I may not get it the next time, but at least for now, I think I am learning a little.
May we walk in Beauty!
To put in the Who-Are-You-And-What-Have-You-Done-With-My-Children? File:
1. This morning, the one who looks like my four-year-old child named Joss, woke up and got himself dressed entirely by himself. Without fussing.
2. This evening, the Joss one ate his supper without asking me to feed him. Without fussing. And it was soup! (see #3)
3. For supper I served eggplant soup. Both of these people who look like my children said it was the best thing ever, and could I make it every evening?
All I can figure is that there must be faeries about.
This is a photo from yesterday: Joss eating slices of raw onion. When he was two, I left him in the market room by himself for a few minutes, and when I came back, he was sitting on the floor munching on a raw leek. He ate at least four that day, maybe five. He still likes raw onions, though now he needs to have a cup of COLD water handy, and he does sometimes get a little overwhelmed by them. Today was the first that he showed an interest in eggplant.
2. Jon Weaver-Kreider
3. Today’s picnic lunch. The boys decided that we were having a family picnic up at their garden, to eat what they harvested. Hot as blazes, but I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.
4. Eggplant soup
May we walk in Beauty.
I have had my February off from writing poetry. January’s poems were more challenging for me to write than the November batch, and they all came out more roughly cut, more in need of attention. In the next few days, I hope to have the chapbook “Holding the Bowl of the Heart” off to Finishing Line Press for the Emerging Women’s Voices contest. But meanwhile, I feel in need of a little discipline to keep me writing.
To that end, I am going to do a Monday poem each week in March. I’ll try to post a prompt or discuss an idea a few days before, in case anyone wants to write with me.
For Monday, I am working on a poem about dreams. I know I’ve done this before, but I have one in the kettle, cooking up, and I need a deadline to get it onto paper. Where do dreams come from? Or what connection do dreams have to our everyday landscapes? I am working with images of trees and spiderwebs.
Join me? Dreams, webs, trees, something like that. . .
1. The bald eagle that flapped around the hollow this afternoon. I had been looking out the dining room window when I saw a large buffy shape in the woods that put me in mind of a large bird, though I could tell it was just place where a branch had broken off a tree. I sort of fell into a reverie, thinking about giant mythical birds, and what it would be like to see a really large bird like a roc out in the woods. Suddenly, from the trees off to the left, by the pond, a bald eagle flapped outward and upward. It sort of twisted around and looked like it was going to rest in the poplar tree before it took off. I felt like I had recognized its energy signature before I even saw it, like I intuited its presence.
2. Crocus and honeybees (I have seen both this spring, though not together. The photo of the bumble below is from another spring.)
3. The courage of the women of this article.
4. The warm time is coming.
5. Planting onions in the greenhouse today. Getting my hands dirty. Worm poop.
May we walk in beauty.
Coming soon to a yard near you. . .