Listening, listening, to what wants to be said

Yesterday I walked down “Tamarack Trail” looking for color. OK, it’s not really called Tamarack Trail. You can call it “Larch Lane” instead if that sounds more lyrical.

A logging crew clearcut this patch of woods about a mile or two from our house many years ago and planted larch. The locals call this tree tamarack.

If you visit on a sunny day in late October the tamaracks glow an amazing shade of gold beneath our yellow orb in the sky.

I wondered yesterday: Did the trees still glow gold? Or is it too late to capture their amazing late-autumn beauty?

Twas too late, autumn-color lover, far too late. Maybe three weeks ago the larches sang their golden anthem.

Now they nestle toward their roots in shades of brown and burnt orange.


It was a nice walk nonetheless. The eyes swept outward looking everywhere for the gold of Spirit shining from its many disguises, from the infinite play of the Holy’s expression.

Every day during this seventy-five day commitment to get closer to Spirit and write about it– I keep listening deeper.

What does the Holy want to say here, through this particular human being?

I have no clue.

A thought pops up with a proposal to write about. Something larger watches the suggestion. I try to settle into this with patience and trust. In the first couple of weeks anxiety kept insisting to come up with a blog ASAP and even write it the night before.

Now there’s a slower pace arising.

I watch for clues during the day. A YouTube video sparks a match of possibility. A random comment by you. A friend’s heartache.

What do You want to say, Holy?

Not my will, thoughts and emotions.

How will you use this vessel today to open doors, windows, hearts?

What teaching longs to be spoken in words only we humans use? (You speak a language without words, we know, a language of silence more inclusive than our feeble syllables that paint the world into separation.)

How can the divine spark up from a mud puddle and try to calm our frenzied spirits or inspire a goldenrod gone to fuzzy seed?

A tender moon rests above this tamarack. Nuthatches chatter in larch branches, nibbling seeds. Words swirl like a gentle wind, attempting to capture the Heart of love.

Spirit dances through all of them and something keeps vigil, waiting for the next Holy move.

What is wanting to move through you today?

P.S. Lest you think I listen to the Holy all day–alas, no. Ego steps up to the plate and bats to first, second, third base–HOME RUN!–quite often. For many of us, I think, this listening comes and goes like the ever-changing seasons. We listen, we don’t, we listen, we don’t. Such a dance of the human and divine. Don’t lose hope, dear one–the winds that pummel can feel harsh, but remember also the gentle lapping of calm lakes, the way the moon rebirths to its fullness again and again.

Day 23 of a seventy-five day journey to connect more deeply with God, Spirit, Holy, Love…to explore “What the Heart Knows” during the waning days of 2020.

About Kathy

I live in the middle of the woods in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. Next to Lake Superior's cold shores. I love to blog.
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14 Responses to Listening, listening, to what wants to be said

  1. I’m growing to love shades of brown and burnt orange, too. Novembers can seem pretty dull, but dull has a story, too. Love your pictures and the mood of your larch woods. I don’t think we’re in their range here. Thanks for sharing your walk and spiritual musings. May you discern a whisper from Holy today. 💙

    • Kathy says:

      I am not surprised that you love brown and orange, as well. Dull has a story! So cool to remember that. And glad to share yesterday’s walk. Thanks, Barbara.

  2. Susan D. Durham says:

    I like how you’ve noticed a slowing of your pace to write blogs during this journey; the waiting and listening. And how that’s not always easy! I can’t believe you’re on Day 23 already. Bet you can! So amazing. The words and pictures today are calming, beautiful, inspiring. And, so are you.

    • Kathy says:

      Day 23 already!! It is interesting how things are settling into a slower pace of listening, and how this trust is building that the right words will arise. And you’re right–not always easy. Thanks, my pal!

  3. Ally Bean says:

    Light is moving through me today. Literally in the sense of a sunny sky above and figuratively in the sense of relief I feel now that the election is over. Good feelings, both.

  4. Robin says:

    I love the browns and oranges of your late autumn tamaracks. ❤

    Gratitude keeps swirling around today, reminding me to be thankful, reminding me that it is all sacred. It's not always easy to remember that, but it seems easier to remember when I take the time to be and express gratitude.

    • Kathy says:

      Robin, both you and Barbara have reminded me that there is *holy* in browns and oranges of November, too. I sort of realized that yesterday–but not totally until you guys commented. Smiling at the gratitude swirling around you today. Isn’t it interesting that our awareness of the gifts of gratitude comes and goes? Glad it’s with you today.

  5. Stacy says:

    I don’t know, Kathy. I think the brown leaves look really pretty, too. (Brown is my favorite color, though, I must admit.)

    Listen, don’t, listen, don’t. That’s what it is to be human. XOXO

  6. Debbie says:

    Looks like you captured lots of beauty to share, Kathy! I think it’s been a challenge — especially this year — to listen. Oh, we’re bombarded with noise and sounds, much of which we tune out, but listening — really hearing — to that small, still voice is something we have to work hard at.

    • Kathy says:

      Debbie, it has been such a challenge at times this year. Those bombarding sounds have been overwhelming at times. I love when it’s possible to sink into the stillness and listen at a deeper level than the cacophony of noise. Thank you. ❤

  7. jeffstroud says:

    Lovely walk none the less. I am sure there were plenty of interesting nature gifts lying about for you to be surprised and thoughtful of.
    There are paths I walk regularly while it is only my eyes that may not see on days where ego/mind just want to complain; when being out doors in nature is the gift itself.
    As I walked the suburban streets lined with all kinds of trees I was amazed at the color and freshness of the afternoon. It was the gift of spirit that allowed me to move out of my state of anxiety
    that pushed and pulled at me most of the morning.

    I’m grateful for our friendship and this journey you are sharing with us.
    Love and Hugs

    • Kathy says:

      Jeff, I am so glad that something was able to pull you out of that anxiousness this morning. Your pictures were lovely. It’s such a gift when we’re able to relax enough and the ego quits fussing and we can just be present with what IS. (And I am grateful for our friendship, too, and that you are enjoying this spiritual journey here. Remembering Gaia now, and the journey we were taking together “back in the day”.)

Thank you for reading. May you be blessed in your life...may you find joy in the simple things...

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