I am most alive when I am creating, whether through writing, photography, gardening, cooking, crafting, sewing, yoga. I enjoy traveling because it opens me to greater awareness and new possibilities. I find a special joy when I’ve helped someone see their brilliance and express their full potential. As I've focused on living more mindfully, I've found special joy in expressing myself through poetry and photography, and in truly being in relationship with those I meet along my journey.
May the sun bring you new energy by day May the moon softly restore you by night May the rain wash away your worries May the breeze blow new strength into your being May you walk gently through the world And know its beauty all the days of your life.
My lovely Aunt Mary sent me this beautiful poem for my birthday last month. I wanted to share its grace and wisdom with you.
Leaping toward the light
You might think it’s a
fish jumping or a dolphin flirting
depending on its distance
when it catches your eye.
And then, you realize it’s
something altogether different!
A ray at play in the salty sea,
leaping toward the light
somersaulting its joy
announcing pure delight,
awakened in a fresh new day.
This is the last of three poems I wrote while in Mexico this year. I tried my darndest to get a photo of one of the rays jumping, but wasn’t able to get a shot in focus with my little Canon sure shot. You’ll have to imagine yourself looking at at this spot of sea and seeing little glittering things jumping out of the water and flipping, splashing and coming up to do it again – usually a few times. What fun to watch.
It’s like she was waiting, just for me, especially for me. | She sat on the sand just beyond where the surf would pull her back into the swirling crash of waves, where she’d be thundered against rocks and coral and other shells, with all those who do not survive to their second life. | This beautiful cascara, a creamy cone of shell, painted with wisps of chocolatey brown squiggling down her body and flowering around the crown of her head. | Her pointy tail broken off, some accident on the wild ride in from her old home in the sandy depths. | Her underside rubbed free of her artsy markings, worn from a lifetime’s journey. |
A little piece of another shell tucked in her side slot, taking a free ride to wherever she’s going. | She seems to have known an orchestra of shells waited on the windowsill for her, needing the instrument of her being to complete their song. | And now, I sit on the bench, in front of the window and I hear the music whispering in my ear, the chorus rejoicing: life is beauty and light.
This poem, like last week’s poem (Lluvia), is fresh from my most recent trip to Mexico. It was probably the best shell collecting ever – I found so many varieties, and so many of several varieties (like cowries, turritellas, limpets). Too bad that my abundance was confiscated at the airport coming home. So I’m practicing being unattached and realizing the real joy was in the seeking and finding and enjoying on the windowsill.