Alive.
The green of the day abounds, filling my heart chakra with the curves of the blossoming mountain bodies that surround me. Looking up, a hilled pasture hosts cows, horses and circling vultures alike - home. Looking across, two rodents-of-unusual-size chase each other among the trees, tails waving. Alive, they say. Renewed. The pair of blue jays sit next to each other on a small branch, briefly touching base before one hops down and the other ponders where to flit next. Alive, the lush lawn murmurs as it awakens to dew that dries quick, quick, quick in the morning sun. Alive.
And alive, I feel, too. There is nothing that makes me feel more alive than writing with my feet attached to the Earth, half shade and half sun, a whole hour stretching before me waiting to be filled with words. It is truly a gift. There are always more tasks for my busy hands to take up, but this is not a task. This is of the soul.
What, for you, is work and play all at the same time for your soul? Are you doing it? How is your soul employed today?
I’ve been trying and failing to write fiction (consistently) for years. What’s flowing now, in this present moment, is reflection. Life ponderings. Occasional poetry. Rather than force what’s not coming easily, I’ll try this route instead. Like a rambling river choosing a new path.
I took a course recently entitled “Poetry as Ritual” where the instructor gave these words of advice - “It doesn’t have to be good. It just has to be true.”
That, I can do. Truth in small, every day moments feels very accessible these days. The way my son’s floppy sun hat sits jauntily on his forehead, giving him the look of an explorer. The earliest bird song at 4am in May, my mother’s favorite. Neighborly laughter around baked goods, building community. The soft hand of my partner helping me reset and ground. Sweet hours playing with not just two boys, but three - and soon to be four of the next generation raised by Riverdale Farm. These are true and good moments that fill me up, once by experiencing them and again, now, writing them down, packaging their energy into this paper and this pen. Big sigh. There’s a certain relief to being able to revisit my life and moments in this way. My cells feel like they can relax a little bit more. There’s an invitation to slow down. I love the idea of slowing down, but it’s a lot harder in practice.
Alive, I say. Alive with what? Alive to what? Alive with possibility and healing. Alive to love and be loved. When death and destruction are reality for so many others right now in the world, to be alive and to truly appreciate it holds even more significance. May my life be for good. May these words contribute in some way to more goodness, more truth, and more aliveness.