be kind creation
smile on your birding friend
glimpse the miracle
Snowy Owl. Plum Island MA 1/25/2020. Atlantic Ocean.
I hesitated to post my photos of my snowy owl trip since the owl photos are a bit blurry. But hell people, it is a Snowy Owl! And my first encounter. But certainly not the last.
This bird is down right stunning, majestic, gorgeous, and oh so patient. I watched the wind ruffling her feathers, her ever alert, keen sense of hearing, and her head turning to see the four corners of the tundrous field for close to an hour. She flew but never far away. She glided as a seaplane hovering the waters.
My heart skipped beats as I encountered this regal bird. I will talk of this for years to come. I thank you for being part of this monumental day. I left the island with a skip in my step. And hope.
Field notes to those wanting to take part in life’s sacred dance. Please remember to tread lightly. Earth’s preciousness is a gift we should treasureand never take for granted.
How many times have I watched Casablanca without catching the interweaving of espionage and intrigue with undying romance? Too many. I actually thought, until this latest viewing, that Ilsa Lund left on the plane to America, alone. Never realized she was married and her man was fighting valiantly behind-the-scenes. I was so focused on the romance that I missed the back story, the WWII narrative and obviously the double-crossing French Capt. Renault, along with Rick, who played all sides of the war to their benefit.
“If we stop breathing, we’ll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die.” Viktor Laszlo
It is a romance, but the drama shines, building to a hero’s crescendo. The world, along with those imprisoned, fought valiantly in WWII, to secure freedom from the authoritarian Nazi regime. Casablanca teaches humanity that the only problem with human nature is our short-sighted and narrow-minded focus on ourselves. There is a greater vision of peace that gets tangled in the web of human need. Innocent hearts must remember the greater good is worth fighting towards. Rick understood this well. Never stooped below his values for a cheap thrill.
A kiss is just a kiss.
Today America celebrates a day of Thanksgiving. Not everyone understands the holiday nor does the whole population celebrate the season. My greatest concern is mankind’s inability to understand the other in the midst of their “I am..”.
May we all listen. May we all strive to be peace makers.
Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.
I haven’t given up gathering resolutions. I have relinquished a resounding voice; moving on to disturb the mystery, in hopes the Spirit rises to meet us half way.
Silence is a remedy. A modern day deserted course that digs deep to uproot bitter taste and indulge in honeyed foreplay. Patience chooses to swim in the sweet aroma of (inner) peace, contentment and fortitude than muck around the endless anger of politics.
Rumi says my thoughts eloquently.
If you could get rid of yourself just once, the secret of secrets would open to you. The face of the unknown, hidden beyond the universe would appear on the mirror of your perception.
Make peace with the universe. Take joy in it. It will turn to gold. Resurrection will be now. Every moment, a new beauty.
This post probably belongs on my new blog Soul Signs. But in my inner mixings and until the picture becomes clearer, there will most likely be double postings or a runaway thought posted here on occasion.
I am not new to spiritual things. As a child I was highly in tune with the unknown and invisible world. I am a spirit being, as we all are or can become. I am slowly working my way back into hearing the quiet cricket hour. Knowing I am practicing these universal truths, to not rush to and fro like a disobedient wind is a step. To be a calming breeze on a stormy day, a leap of faith.
A new experience presented itself within a community to celebrate positive energy. This was most of the group’s first time being together. The hour started with rhythmic drum beats mimicking the heart’s life force.
There were 15 of us, each with a drum and another percussion instrument. This video is the third of four sets, each naturally lasting between 12-13 minutes. The group leaders did little to manipulate each interval of creative expression. They flowed as swiftly and gently, or vigorously and bountifully, as the Nashua River, deep in the Valley of Oxbow.
As the hour progressed, a golden hue encompassed us. We said farewell to the sun. Then to each other. Look forward to another drum circle September 12.
This is my final post in response to A Guy Called Bloke and if you follow the above link, you will receive double motivation. 😉✌🏼
Ok. So, I am sitting at Hash Imports, waiting for my Jag. The garage door bit off a chunk of the trunk (aka boot for Englanders) and the damaged plith is being put back on the car’s booty!!! Hurrah 😄! They tell me it should take an hour. (Long story how this happened which i am not going to explain.)
Since i will be walking, biking or taking public transport in Boston, what will happen to my Jag? Hurt feelings much? But that’s what the country side is for… motoring in my Jag to the ocean and mountain vistas!!! Cannot wait. 😝 ⛰ 🌊