Friday, July 20, 2012

River Of Wildness

I was surprised yesterday 
when I went to slip into my garden clogs 
and found this little guy.

Okay, I screamed.
Like I'd seen a room full of mice, or toads or...
Can you say, fight or flight?

With a toad? I know I know

As I write a gorgeous rain is pouring steadily down; a delicious sound after so much deep heat and all the grass and trees and gardens gasping for air, for wetness. 

Owen, the orange cat, and Chewy, the big-eared dog, are here in my upstairs room, my treehouse, sleeping and breathing slowly. 

That's all I feel like doing today.

Sleeping and breathing slowly.

I want to write about

The Art of Practice and the ESU dojo 

with Carmela, Lance, and Tes ~ master teachers

and all the metaphors that sprang up from the Aikido practice and movement, and inquiry into self...

how much aliveness do you allow yourself to feel?
what grabs you?
who do you trust?
what are you resisting?

what good questions/ I want to write about all of them

and then there's my Uncle Renwick (Uncle Happy) who died a week ago today, Friday the 13th, first cousin to my father, both masters of hijinks and helping people, he lost his church because he married a lesbian couple, he marched with Dr. King and registered African-American voters in the deep south, he had four childen...his message was LOVE.

Happy had a river of wildness running through his veins.

I loved that about him. And it scared me too. 

My own river of wildness is something I love [and fear.]

Where will it sweep me? 
Who will ride with me? 
Who will get swept away? 
What if I get swept away? 

This image rising now with the rain falling, sweet rain, and sleeping animals, and quiet house and no need to work today although so many house projects call me and an old friend is coming for a visit. I thought, she always takes me as I am, my house is of no concern to her; a gift to know about someone.

I have two pages scribbled full of six-word memoirs.

feel bad about money, let go
out of fray, writing in notebook
dropping what's not mine to carry
up down up down up down
letting myself rest, it's just fine

This for today:

quiet moment
no speaking
in gratitude

xo b

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