Been Stormy

Change does not always come easy, or readily. But we must keep at it! Living a life we create comes from one simple step a day. Sometimes we climb to great heights like a rocket ship blasting into space. Some of us are using the old footstool in grandma’s kitchen. The footstool that helped her reach on top of the fridge. I remind myself that I come from greatness and I can reach for the mixing bowl on a high shelf, everyday.

What change are you making, today?

My Morning in the Fog

(Yes, I can see) The Mist Thru the Trees

Making Space

Marquette Rooftop and Vista

Yesterday the wind was knocking color from the trees and my ears listened for stories running with the scattering leaves. I am making more space. Not just in the limbs of my trees, not just in the bed of purple mums, but in my heart and in my creative mind.

Where does the creative mind sit? Sometimes it feels like my solar plexus radiating yellow and joy. Other times my creative mind sits in my womb with red passion.

Today I am gallery sitting my creative mind seems to be in those smaller chakras, my hands, and feet.  I feel that Reiki energy “on” and I just have to play.

Yesterday’s chattering leaves have blown into large piles up against fences.

My nighttime moon looked almost full and had a large halo glowing yellow and orange.

This morning on my slate-gray sky was a hot red horizon on the steely lake as the sun rose.

Mike packed his bags for an adventure.  I walked out the door to a flock of brown birds with white under their wings, they took flight all at once and my world fluttered up, up, up.

I’m caught somewhere between hard and soft. Contrast and blur. Light and dark. Gossip and Song. Trapped and Free.

But accepting of color, I am that “always”. Today’s pinks, the red and orange of my dogwood, the yellow, my sighs are the color of deep aqua and the teal of the sea.

And I am making space…aaaaaaaahhhh!

Clutter Attack, I’m in need of Zen Space

Under My Rain Bows...?

I subscribe to far too many magazines and they are piled in far too many hills in my living room and studio. They cascade off end tables. I have far too much junk mail.Shoes. Bills. Cups. Tupperware. I’ve far too much stuff. Even my blog seems heavy. Some days I want to wipe out and start all over. I might. But what would people think?

Found Altars, Sacred Spaces

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Mike was still asleep when I woke in the cold pop-up camper so I slid my shoes on quietly and in jammies went down the steep incline to the beach. The waves were calm, the morning mostly gray, the sun not having burnt off the mist and cloud cover. I came across a found altar. It was Sunday morning. I said my prayers and climbed back up a very steep incline to the campground above.

We camped at the Presque Isle Campground within the Porcupine Mountain State Park. It was only a two-day trip that started late on a Saturday but it helped me put the stresses I was feeling in the background. I came home with resolve to change, to slow it down, to take my healing to the next level.

Found altars can be a gathering of stones on a beach, or a space where you feel centered. This trip reminded me that I need to seek that space more frequently. Where is your “altar”?

Is Autumn Awaiting You?

Too rushed! I feel panic most days. I want, so badly, to slow down. But I’ve let my choices get too confused and I am forgetting that we are entering a time of release and rest. I need to touch this season and watch it fall, watch it release, watch the fragility of leaves as they crumble.

I’ve certainly been fragile. My neck so sore. I’ve a great need for naps (and I do not let my head rest). I want to color with markers at a picnic table and write with pen on brown paper lyrics, and symbols, let out the mysteries that angels whisper in my ear.

How are you moving with the seasons? And is there a new choice to make? Perhaps you’re letting go?

Please share…