Ripples of time
are moving me
closer, closer
to the edge where
mystery abounds.
Aging
Category Archives: meditation
A Snowy Morning
Up at dawn, ski pants, snow
boots, mittens and warmest
coat found and pulled on
and a vest for Miss Luna.
We are the first to venture
out into the world of white.
And when we stop, the
total stillness, the silence
is there, always there.
Luna off leash prances
ahead, often looking back
to ensure I am still there.
I take baby steps to cross
the wooden bridge over
the creek listening to the
crunch of my boots. I see
bare branches transformed
into works of art. A gaggle
of geese is huddled on the
shore and mirrored on
the pond making two
rows until our presence
causes them to waddle
into the water and swim
away. Our prints in the
pristine snow take me
back to childhood when
my brother and I rushed
to be the first out, laughing
as we lay down in the snow
to make our snow angels.
Today I intentionally halt,
and it’s the silence, the hush,
the utter stillness, the beauty,
the sense of something more
that fills me with gratitude and joy.
Autumn Morning
On a perfect autumn morning
when the air is clean and crisp,
mist slowly moves toward the light,
blurring the mirror image of trees
glimpsed on the surface of the pond.
We Must Hope
When hatred and retribution
are the order of the day,
out front my lilies bloom
in red, orange, yellow, and peach.
When university presidents are
pushed out for what they believe,
my dog’s fur remains soft
and her ears ever so silky.
When people yearning for
a better life are arrested,
my air conditioner keeps us
cool on a 100+ degree day.
While people are dying in
Gaza, Iran, Israel, and Ukraine,
I see turtles sunning themselves
at the edge of the pond.
When past presidents
are called “stupid,”
children are laughing and
playing around the world.
When vaccines are deemed
unnecessary and harmful,
doctors and nurses continue
to speak up for their efficacy.
When sycophants bow down
to a bully of a leader,
People peacefully protest
at “No Kings” rallies.
At this distressing time
in our history, we must
hold on to hope and beauty,
and speak truth to power.
Choosing a Path
What path do you choose today?
Will your actions matter?
Will you choose to immerse
yourself in the news or
do some small act of
kindness? Will you choose
to spend time hating
those in power or
feeling the love of family
and friends? Will you
choose to appreciate
the white dogwoods in
the woods, the blackberry
bushes, and the copper
ajuga blooms, or will you
notice the potholes in the road
and the unpainted fences?
Each day, the path we choose
matters, each and every action,
small or large, matters.
Inspired by Carrie Newcomer’s post Clearing a Path.
When I Die
When I die,
I want to let go
and float away
as serenely
and gracefully
as the falling
leaves in autumn,
uncomplaining
yet curious,
surrendering
to the eternal
circle of life.
August Mornings
Mist covers the pond
like a giant’s breath
on a cool August morning,
a morning that is a gift
after hot humid days.
And then it effortlessly lifts
to allow the sun its show.
On a hot humid morning,
dragon flies dart around
plants by the lake,
blue wings flashing, and
tree frogs chatter away while
water nibbles at pond’s edge.
New sweet gum leaves
poke up from the roots of an
old tree and bees hum in
a hollow trunk; pine needles
are strewn across the path,
washed in piles by the recent rain.
White button weed hides in the
grass and I almost miss it.
I try to be present, but it’s a challenge.
Powhatan State Park
Rustling of dry
leaves underfoot,
sun slanting
through pines,
clickety clack
of a train
far, far away,
Luna sniffing
here and there,
horse droppings
on the side,
pine needles
cushioning feet,
shell-shaped fungi
on downed trees.
Listen and look.
It’s all there
waiting for you.
Beginner’s Mind
What would it be like
to start each day with
beginner’s mind? To marvel
at a body that functions
without our control,
that feels and sees
and smells and thinks,
that communicates in a
language developed
centuries before our
births. What would it be
like to see each sunrise
and sunset as a miracle,
each wildflower with
new delight, each
redbud as a wonder, each
bird as a new marvel?
What would it be like
to wipe the mind clean
of all thoughts and opinions,
to see the spark of the
divine in everyone and
everything we meet,
and act from a place
of love? Just imagine
what it would be like
to start each day
with beginner’s mind.
Inspired by the daily meditations of Richard Rohr
A Satisfying Morning
Sun low on the horizon,
daffodils shimmering,
grape hyacinths opening,
lily leaves pushing through,
yellow forsythia flowing,
swish of pine needles
on the path, chill air
on my cheek, jingle
of the leash, the quiet
of a Sunday morning.
Delicate tendrils of
weeping willows,
white petals of
Bradford pears,
ripples on the lake,
and the redbud
producing beauty
off its gnarled branches.
Raucous voice of
a lone crow, soft
peeps of birds
foraging, the feel
of my foot as it
hits the ground,
rat-a-tat-tat of
a woodpecker
topped off by
the heron who
flew majestically
up as we neared.
untangling the web 