Today I begin to write Small Stones. This is a writing challenge I have signed up for (thanks Sis) on the Writing Our Way Home website. One of my 2013 challenges is to write more. More often, and more writing=more happiness for me! You can check out my progress on this page.
January 1, 2013
Walking on the tree-shaded street with my old grey-bearded dog Charlie, we meet a new friend, the silver-haired poodle, Harry. Two elderly gentlemen, out for a stroll this New Year’s Day, take a gentle sniff of each other, tails wagging acknowledgements.
January 2, 2013
Walking around the lake, I see the birds lined up along the shore. They look this way and that, noticing everything…each other…their friends on the lake, but not the people. They live in the moment, but it is a bird’s moment.
January 3, 2013
The howling wind is relentless throughout the night, waking the dog and bringing out the wild in him. He demands to be released to the yard to experience whiskers blowing freely.
January 4, 2013
As the pink sky takes over the day’s end, silhouette trees move softly, birds hurry home and we settle in for the night. The stick branches offer little shelter to their tenants, but the wind chimes are playful.
January 5, 2013
Six things do not seem like so many but remembering them is the challenge! The thermometer on my car this morning: 38, the room of welcoming faces all there for the same reason, the warm, filled restaurant offering a delicious breakfast, the funny book I am reading while walking on the treadmill, my funny dog sitting beside me as I complete my morning sit-ups, and the sun setting on the canyon mountains as I drive home.
January 6, 2013
The morning is cold and steam is rising from the landscaping logs as we walk along. How long do objects live? The logs appear to be something so different from the living trees they once were, and yet they almost seem to be breathing.
January 7, 2013
Someone Else’s Shoes
The bright colors are almost overwhelming, only overshadowed by the noise level. The senses are shattered. Little by little, with a gentle, guiding touch, a deep inhale and patient exhale, the day begins.
January 8, 2013
It requires coming right home after work to get the little things done, to walk the dog, to eat especially early, just a little, to avoid a later feeling of too full. Tidying up around the house, finishing laundry started earlier, not letting oneself get too settled, too drowsy. The night is dark now and the house is cozy, but I know the candlelit room is welcoming with like-minded companions committed to The Practice. Yoga.
January 9, 2013
Winding up the road into the Canyon, the smell of sage wraps around me like a comforter. In fact, it is comforting to be among the smells and to feel the pull of sacred spaces. The vegetation changing with the seasons, lavender, poison oak, ferns and poppies, and the consistency of the wildlife, hawks circling, deer grazing unnoticed by most, and the lone coyote going home after an evening of hunting.
January 10, 2013
The pepper trees were planted in 1926, when the area was developed by a man wishing to sub-divide and conquer. Tricked by the late season, the peppercorns are just now falling, sprinkling the sidewalk like small red snowballs. The slim, green leaves float down, dusting everything and evoking memories of my little pre-school, where at 4, I imagined I was in a forest, collecting food.
January 11, 2013
Pink tinged sunrise as a background for the silhouette trees doesn’t guarantee a warm day. The thermometer in the car reads 29 degrees.
January 12, 2013
Dusk comes early and the dim sky ends the day too soon. Exercise, lunch with a friend, working with a student. Stopping by the quality grocery store to buy really good fish for dinner. It’s sustainable.
January 14, 2013
The wind riles the up children and sends them screaming and laughing across the schoolyard. Their energy spirals like the leaves in the mini tornadoes swirling, spinning and rarely settling.
January 15, 2013
Pink clouds hiding behind the tall pine trees tricking me into thinking of warm spring days. It is freezing and still. Even the birds are staying in their nests this morning.
January 16, 2013
Making time for myself, driving through the night to talk and share and be advised. Me time plus one.
January 17, 2013
Crackling warmth creating instant coziness on this winter night. The orange flames tickle the pine, burning quickly to settle on the oak, lingering longer.
January 18, 2013
Yoga is mindful, breathing in and out. Mat on bamboo floor, blocks for support. Gentle jazz and African harmonies, guiding words. Stretched out, hips opened, hamstrings awake.
January 19, 2013
Winter-dry skin like parchment, in need of oil and lavender lotion. Looking closely, I notice the flakes bear a similarity to snowflakes, gently falling and attaching themselves to my yoga pants.
January 20, 2013
Explosive sounds and images sensed behind covered eyes. Salty popcorn give a welcome return to reality, if only for the moments before the kernels dissolve on my tongue.
January 21, 2013
Time flies and stands still. Twenty years seem like a lifetime ago and the thought of twenty years from now is hard to imagine. Time is a strange acquaintance.
January 22, 2013
Sometimes the perfect lyric, in the perfect space, at the perfect time can dissipate the day and send stress molecules spinning off into the twinkling night sky. “My salvation lies in your love,” is that lyric tonight.
January 23, 2013
The arrival of dusk, with emerging shadows, wisps of wind blowing leaves along the gutters, swirling restlessly. Clouds coming together forming comfortable gray pillows, welcoming nightfall.
January 24, 2013
Sometimes in a flurry of activity, whirring and circling seemingly aimless, but usually it’s a direct hit. The rolling of shoulders, inhale slowly, exhale even more so. Ujjayi Pranayama brings comfort. Center. There you are.
January 25, 2013
Sometimes, Friday cannot come soon enough. My energy sapped and patience thin. Winding through the Canyon the weekend approaches, blowing cares away, evaporating stress and opening my view to the expanse of the Valley below.
January 26, 2013
The delicious smell of mulching pepper tree leaves mix with the moist after-rain air. inhaling is not enough to take it in. Absorbing pores must suck in the tangy fragrance.
January 27, 2013
Memories hiding just below the surface pop their sad little heads up triggering tears. Forgetting is a difficult task.
January 28, 2013
Waking up to the steady stream of NPR news, hoping for the break of human interest stories, informative interesting facts, studies, reviews of movies and books unread.
January 29, 2013
The silhouette palms painted the sky a lovely shade of sky-blue-pink tonight. It is not so much a prediction of warm weather tomorrow as a reminder to consider gratitude today.
January 30, 2013
The frost is dusting the taupe trees and even the birds are sleeping in. 37 is a cold number.
January 31, 2013
Looking closely reveals both the beauty and the ugliness of life. What I’ve learned is that it is the approach, the intention and the lack of expectation that provides a rich experience. Tonight the magenta sky really does indicate warmer futures.
February 2, 2013
Noticing the beauty of the tree-leaf clovers dotting the hillside, searching for the elusive four-leaf seems irrelevant.
February 3, 2013
There is a saying, maybe Buddhist, about cutting carrots, or maybe it is another vegetable. Well, I practiced that meditation this evening and the beautiful deep green kale resting in the lighter romaine couldn’t hide the burgundy beets, red tomatoes and dancing sunflower seeds. This is a delicious meditation.
February 4, 2013
Sometimes a nice pasta dinner and a glass of wine in a dimly lit room with the one you love is the best kind of therapy.
February 5, 2013
The bellowing of a didgeridoo in a candlelit room surrounded by rhythmic breathing and the sweet well-earned shavasana is an amazing end to a long day.
February 6, 2013
The pine table is a warm and comfortable spot to share dinner and conversation. Pondering life, bouncing ideas and connecting across a table that has witnessed many such conversations. Gratitude.
February 8, 2013
Hurried, frosty mornings necessitate peeling myself away from warm comfort and landing in the usual place with a full agenda and little lives to shepard.
One response to “Small Stones”
I like the idea of a “bird’s moment.” I think it’s good to remember sometimes that all creatures don’t share our point of view. Keep the stones coming!