From my sky to your sky,
may we stitch together this tattered,
ever-beautiful world
with more listening and less shouting,
more kindness and less hate,
more bread and no bombs,
more hope and less cynicism,
more reality and fewer lies,
more resources and less deprivation
and always, always, more love.
May blessings circle one and all in the New Year.

We cannot choose what is arising in any given moment: the unexpected experiences or conditions, the spontaneous ‘felt sense’ in the body, or related emotions and thoughts. However, we can choose how we respond. Within this awareness, lies freedom. 

Move your body.
Ignite your senses.
Nurture your intellect.
Trust your intuition.
Honor your heart.
Use your voice.

Look to the sky
for an ever-changing story
told in clouds and colors
rising, shape-shifting, setting
in textured moods,
flowing on blue canvas.

See today’s tale-
burgeoning swaths
of dark charcoal
all heavy-hearted,
but for the slim edges
of white,
one insistent wedge
of blue
hope.

The bud
stands for all things,
even for those things that don’t flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing . . .

Galway Kinnell, excerpt from Saint Francis and The Sow

before the frost

     The last blossoms are just as vibrant as the first and just as innocent of their pending demise. Humans have no such naiveté regarding the autumn and winter of their lives.  Once we begin to anticipate the fade from the glow of deep summer, we become aware of the precious, finite quality of our lives.  “Life is short.” “This is not a dress rehearsal.” “You only live once.” all take on real meaning beyond the familiarity of adages.  These are no longer phrases or concepts; you feel into them.  Your body mirrors back the changes of autumn, initiating a letting go in inevitable steps, particular ways. While not culturally acceptable, a knowing part wants to let go into this gilded time, where what matters most is simple and unadorned by status, materialism, the high energy of youth. Vibrancy is redefined in depth, the exploration of gathering wisdom, a turn toward the quiet, creative center. Perhaps all of this is necessary, so the last, sweetest blossoms of one’s gifts can manifest fully in the second half of life, long before the killing frost.