Sometimes, by the grace of perfect timing and amazing iPhone technology, I stumble upon and can capture the most beautiful things. Yesterday, ripe with the newness and freedom of a very different first day of first grade with my nephew, Wyatt, we wandered out through the browning milkweed and misty September morning as part of his morning "physical education." Here's what greeted us:
Exquisite morning magic in a spider and her web:
And perhaps my favorite photo of the year so far:
I'm all about snails and their wisdom. This one told me: slow down. Notice what's all around you.
The past few weeks have forced me to slow down, and in doing so, to allow for writing and processing what's going on in the world around me right now. Sometimes I write and wonder - does this just stay in my notebook? Get shared with a few friends? Get shared more widely right now? Get shared more widely sometime in the future? And usually the poem will tell me what it wants. This one said clearly this morning - get me out into the world. We need all the help we can get.
there’s a war here in my own earth
and all around us for our future, for a way for our being the crickets sing against the din of the highway the forest floor invites respite from the sheer fluttering of cheap curtains generational pain rages and burns as the age-old play for power repeats oh, it is on. how can we hold ourselves up any longer on the back of injustice and greed on the elbows of murder dipped in the falsehood of capitalism without finally succumbing to the soft Earth below Her wise hands there to catch us Her song to teach us Her wholeness to welcome our gratitude our imperfection our service our lives
I'm bringing the fog out of the mind and putting it back in the hills, it comes every night and burns up every morning, where does it go? cities are on fire and fascism is creeping, barreling in and the snails tell us to slow down while the swirling, whirling, world tells us 'we need you' and if we all slow down can we show up with our signs and our voter registration drives and our family conversations and our votes and our calls and emails and book clubs to really make a difference? I have to believe we can, I have to believe the circles matter and that me leading a few matters, and that me meditating matters, and me praying to the Earth, of the Earth, for the Earth, matters. Because what else is there?
Thank you for receiving the morning magic of the spider, the snail wisdom, and my writing.