Nothing left to say

Yellow buds

It’s been a quiet time along the shores of Lake Superior Spirit.

As some of you know, it’s been weeks of deep spiritual retreat for me (amidst working while sunlight dapples through my office window at the school, the sound of shrieking laughter at recess, sipping dark mugs of coffee laced with hazelnut creamer, errands, chores and a hundred busy daily doings).

Yellow meets Monet

It’s a sweet spring.

Mother deer birth baby fawns in the woods.

Wildflowers blossom.

Universe of spring leaves

Tree leaves unfurl.

Backlit

When you wander in the forest, you feel newness bursting everywhere.  New possibility, new potential.

It’s a potent time of year to wake up, to fully experience, to be.

It’s all magic

I’ve relaxed into being more present with the unfolding.

Here.

Now.

In this moment.

Don’t hesitate to look underneath

It’s good.

Unexpected

Birds chatter endlessly.

That mating dance of diving and retreating, forward and back.

Haze of pine

Pungent cedar

Some days sun shines between yellow leaf and bark.

Other days sky drizzles rain to newly planted baby lettuce in damp garden soil.

I settle alongside both, drawing up chair window-side or trekking outside, cherishing Spring’s endless lessons of renewal and regeneration.

Allure of the reds

Spring never hesitates to teach with birdsong or wood tick.

Allure of the reds Part II

Waves lap endlessly against the shore, shaping and re-shaping our perception of this life.

Innocent joy

Joy visits, as does sorrow.

Excitement arrives, as does frustration.

Life continues its duality, its ups, its downs.

I witness.

I know you do, too.

Breathe deep, Sailor of Life

When you’re totally present in a moment, totally here, not partially here, not six percent here, thoughts dry up.  You’re moving, you’re sitting, you’re participating, you’re watching, you’re so close to what’s observed that if you’re not trying at all you’ll realize for two milliseconds or a lifetime you can’t separate what you’re perceiving from what you are.

Snowshoe Priest in yellow and blue

Saints come and go.

Waves lap and recede.

Sun rises and sets.

Moon opens its womb and winks.

From below, through trees

Sometimes nothing arises to shape itself into words except heart’s fluttering song:

We’re alive, we’re alive, we’re alive!

Birchbark circle of life

The circle of life circles upon itself in exquisite silence…and sometimes it springs forward to the next precious moment…which, of course, is always now.

Spring

What else is there to say, ever again?

Hummingbird pauses

Except: Hello precious hummingbird…hello precious moment of life…

Nothing left to say, and it’s enough.

Thank you, gentle reader, for sitting with me in the silence.

I feel gratitude for your presence.