Our Lilacs have lots of buds right now. The bloom all depends on how cold it may get between now and the emergence of the little flowers. It was 19 this morning and they seem ok . . . . no tell tell droop or wilt.
When I was a young girl
I asked my father if God was everywhere . . .
he said yes.
I then followed up with another question . . .
“was God in my mother’s purse?”,
which embarrassed him into silence,
that I could be so flip
about the immensity of the Divine.
I will always remember that moment.
God,
or however we choose to call that Energy,
is indeed everywhere . . .
my mother’s purse,
in the hydrangea bush behind our house,
in all the colours of a sunset,
moving across the windblown sands of the desert,
and within the deepest sea.
The totality
and inter-connectedness
of all of Nature,
is beyond my meager comprehension,
and when I try to think of it
I can hardly breathe . . .
the majesty of it is so immense
that it doesn’t fit in my brain.
My spirit
can venture out and imagine,
but even that little exercise
leaves my knowledge wanting.
It’s all beyond words,
far past explanation.
The older I grow
and the more I experience
here on this plane,
the more convinced I am
that we dwell
in an unfathomable web
that has an order
that I can’t possibly understand.
It is ever-changing,
growing bigger
and smaller,
inflating and deflating . . .
like breath.
The Breath of the Universe.
Nothing is born from nothing
and nothing truly dies,
but rather changes form.
The incredible little spider on my windowsill
will eat her fill of fruit flies and mosquitoes,
and will one day
nourish something else,
as will we.
There is so much more
than me watching that spider in the morning . . .
there is so much more
than ‘my’ little life,
and that knowledge
makes me weak in the knees
and inspires me.♥
That is the best conceptual description of this giant appearing and disappearing act I have ever read, dear Sparrow. Thank you so much for sharing your poignant thoughts.
Thank you,
dear Joseph . . .
I always find myself at a loss
and feel inadequate to the task
when trying to talk about this . . .
the subject is too GREAT
to really grasp. ♥
The fig tree in our garden is inspiration to come together; at least offering most delicious fruits twice a year, if not three times, which is a gift to so many kindred hearts. Inspiring to prepare compot, sweet-sour chutney or just for offering and eating them fresh from the tree. The trees undestructible fertility, feeding both the birds and humans with a delicious fruit which seemed to have been sent directly from God for our all joy. It inspires to offer the abundance of life`s experience and possibly pass this harvest onward to the younger ones, if supportive and helpful,
Love this, Ose! I always wanted a fig tree and planted a sapling at our old house after my husband & I got married. I left a note for the couple who bought our house telling them that I hoped that Miss Figgie grew strong and gave them lots of fruit. There was a fig tree in my current neighborhood on an empty lot that I picked lots of fruit from last year. I was so sad when I saw it had been bulldozed… an oversized home is being built there now. They could have left the tree, but I’m glad I got to enjoy it before they destroyed it.
Weather inspires me – all kinds. I am fascinated by it. Had there been female meteorologists when I was a kid, I might have thought of becoming one. Clouds, weather patterns, wind…the difference among freezing rain, sleet, snow, fog, hoarfrost, frozen fog…and on a completely different note, what would it be like to fly into the eye of a hurricane? How does how we live affect weather patterns, and vice versa? Weather causes me to be curious and I’m in favor of anything that causes me to be curious. I like being curious and not being expected to be certain.
All aspects of nature inspire, if I’m paying attention.
Seeds: Carrying within themselves the potential to become much more, given food and water and light, and becoming what they were meant to be from their beginnings.
Trees: Communicating with each other to form a community, giving homes to beings of such variety, continuing to give gifts that extend beyond their growing lives as they become earth.
Water: Laughing when everything is running downhill, finding a way around resistance, not losing its essential nature as it transforms into steam or ice and back to water.
Sky: Extending past what we can see, carrying beauty and peace and excitement, from rainbows to cloud pictures to thunder and lightning.
Soil: The final resting place for everything, the bed in which all will rest and then the essential nurture and nutrition for new life to grow and bloom and then return.
I’m reading a daily essay in The Book of Awakening, by Mark Nepo. From May 6, Twig and Nest, opening with a quotation and closing with a suggestion for meditation:
I think I could turn and live with animals. They do not sweat and whine about their condition. Not one is dissatisfied.
— Walt Whitman
“It was a very small thing, watching a robin carry a twig too big for its nest. It tried once, then twice, to use it, and somehow, with its very small bird brain, it knew it was no good. It simply flew off and picked another.
I went and found the twig. There wasn’t a mark on it. I rolled it in my hand and thought of all the times I’ve labored, trying to make things too big fit. So often what we want is like that twig, too big to be of use, and we stay lodged in an unhappiness created by holding on to something that can’t complete our nest.
It was humbling to watch a small bird work, singing as it went, leaving what it couldn’t use as it found it. If we could only treat each other with such simple kindness.
– Meditate on your life as a nest that needs to be put together.
– Consider what you are after, what you are carrying–like a stubborn bird–that is too big to be of use.
– Can you put your life together more thoroughly by taking up some smaller version of what you need, something that fits?”
An incredible response,
dear Barb,
along with Walt Whitman’s quote
and Mark Nepo’s meditation . . .
all an inspiration to me . . .
thank you for this. ♥
I love walking the brown sand beaches in Washington State with the tides rolling in and the wind filling my lungs. It’s like Mother Earth is dancing. I love flying above the state of Kansas and watching the fields of wheat, corn, soy beans below that look like colorful quilts but also remembering that there was a time when native grasses blew in the wind and fed the buffalo that roamed in herds to feast and naturally fertilize the land. I remember the years of living in Louisiana and feasting on fresh oysters, shrimp, crawfish and crabs. Sunday is Mothers’ Day and I will go to my son’s home to share it with him and his beautiful wife who have rescued so many feral cats and abused dogs. For the most part, we have not been good children to our Mother Earth but she just does her best to keep giving. She is an inspiration every moment of every day while we drop bombs and shoot missiles and fight over her real estate.
Those of us,
dear Carol Ann,
who are not ‘dropping bombs
or shooting missiles’
must be diligent
to counteract these crimes against our Mother
with Love. ♥
I am inspired by the waves of Lake Michigan (I live in Michigan). I find joy in jumping and swimming in the waves. I find peace listening to the waves and watching the sunset. I feel connected, like I’m home, walking on its beaches, having the water splash up on the sand.
Survival, determination, diversity, uniqueness, and resiliency. We had a rose bush that made it through the harsh winter. Seeing it’s green growth brought joy to my spirit. The rhubarb plant has out done itself.
The leaves on my rhubarb are practically Jurassic, Yram! I have an acquaintance who uses rhubarb leaves to create bird baths with cement, imprinting them and creating a receptacle to refresh the thirsty birds.
Years ago a mentor suggested that if an uncomfortable conversation came up we should ask ‘if the rain will hurt the rhubarb?”did. Not this year!
I was often tempted to make a bird bath from the leaves but never took the leap. They are lovely.
This morning, nature’s resilience inspires me. All the plants and trees got pummeled with snow yesterday, and today, most are popping back green and buoyant. It takes a lot more than one late-season storm to stop them from thriving.
Drea, something about the moisture that results from a good spring snow, (perhaps how it percolates into the soil?) that really makes the plants green up and grow!
It’s amazing,
isn’t it,
dear Drea?
I was almost blinded by a brilliant sun
shining on my very green lawn and garden this morning
after last night’s rain. ♥
Mmm… so many! How the trees stay grounded but sway with the winds. How all plants reach for the light. How the sky changes as the earth rotates, sometimes offering a glimmer of a rainbow or a shooting star. How the ocean can roar one day and be so calm the next. We are so lucky to be surrounded by such an inspiring creation!
There are so many aspects of nature that inspire me. Today, I’ll focus on mountains — especially older mountains that are more worn down. I live in Georgia, and the Blue Ridge is part of the Appalachian Mountains, which are among the oldest mountain ranges in the world. Since they are ancient, they are not craggy and bleak. They are verdant and covered in amazing colors. The spring and the fall are particularly beautiful. The mountains can look almost psychedelic. My husband and I will ultimately retire there.
The verdant mountains of the east, the Rockies and the continental divide ranges, the Pacific coast range and the brutally barren mountains of desert Nevada. All are majestic and magic to me, Avril.
I live near younger mountains, Avril: The Cascades and the Olympic Range. Since we so often have grey skies the common phrase on a clear day is “The mountain’s out!” when we can see Mt. Rainier (called Tahoma by the Indigenous people here), its sharp peaks glistening with snow. From our house it’s a relatively short walk to the water where we can look across to the Olympic Peninsula and see the Olympics as well. Thank you for describing your ancient mountains for us.
Mountains are so majestic. We lived in VA for about 10 years and would often go to the mountains. Both of my boys live near the rockies. It is so awesome.
Nature’s diversity inspires me. As we humans are part of nature, we share in that diversity. Diversity makes life richer for all of us.
Another aspect of nature that inspires meis the cycle of life that is visible to those who look for it.
The aspects of nature that inspire me are the resilience of grass during the winter and their growth when spring returns. I love my Twin Cities, which are covered in white as well as their liveliness painted in green and other colors of flowers. Happy, gifted, ordinary day to all! 🦗
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I just noticed tonight I have a small amount of lilacs next to my deck blooming. I never noticed that last year! I love lilacs
Our Lilacs have lots of buds right now. The bloom all depends on how cold it may get between now and the emergence of the little flowers. It was 19 this morning and they seem ok . . . . no tell tell droop or wilt.
When I was a young girl
I asked my father if God was everywhere . . .
he said yes.
I then followed up with another question . . .
“was God in my mother’s purse?”,
which embarrassed him into silence,
that I could be so flip
about the immensity of the Divine.
I will always remember that moment.
God,
or however we choose to call that Energy,
is indeed everywhere . . .
my mother’s purse,
in the hydrangea bush behind our house,
in all the colours of a sunset,
moving across the windblown sands of the desert,
and within the deepest sea.
The totality
and inter-connectedness
of all of Nature,
is beyond my meager comprehension,
and when I try to think of it
I can hardly breathe . . .
the majesty of it is so immense
that it doesn’t fit in my brain.
My spirit
can venture out and imagine,
but even that little exercise
leaves my knowledge wanting.
It’s all beyond words,
far past explanation.
The older I grow
and the more I experience
here on this plane,
the more convinced I am
that we dwell
in an unfathomable web
that has an order
that I can’t possibly understand.
It is ever-changing,
growing bigger
and smaller,
inflating and deflating . . .
like breath.
The Breath of the Universe.
Nothing is born from nothing
and nothing truly dies,
but rather changes form.
The incredible little spider on my windowsill
will eat her fill of fruit flies and mosquitoes,
and will one day
nourish something else,
as will we.
There is so much more
than me watching that spider in the morning . . .
there is so much more
than ‘my’ little life,
and that knowledge
makes me weak in the knees
and inspires me.♥
“The Breath of the Universe.” Your writing always gives me some new image that makes me pause and sit with it, Sparrow. Thank you.
I think,
dear Barb,
we are sisters under the skin . . . ♥
“the majesty of it is so immense”
Yes, I feel that, Sparrow! And you put it all so eloquently 💜✨
“the majesty of it is so immense”
It is,
isn’t it,
dear SunnyPatti!
Just getting a little glimpse of it
is breath taking. ♥
That is the best conceptual description of this giant appearing and disappearing act I have ever read, dear Sparrow. Thank you so much for sharing your poignant thoughts.
Thank you,
dear Joseph . . .
I always find myself at a loss
and feel inadequate to the task
when trying to talk about this . . .
the subject is too GREAT
to really grasp. ♥
The fig tree in our garden is inspiration to come together; at least offering most delicious fruits twice a year, if not three times, which is a gift to so many kindred hearts. Inspiring to prepare compot, sweet-sour chutney or just for offering and eating them fresh from the tree. The trees undestructible fertility, feeding both the birds and humans with a delicious fruit which seemed to have been sent directly from God for our all joy. It inspires to offer the abundance of life`s experience and possibly pass this harvest onward to the younger ones, if supportive and helpful,
Love this, Ose! I always wanted a fig tree and planted a sapling at our old house after my husband & I got married. I left a note for the couple who bought our house telling them that I hoped that Miss Figgie grew strong and gave them lots of fruit. There was a fig tree in my current neighborhood on an empty lot that I picked lots of fruit from last year. I was so sad when I saw it had been bulldozed… an oversized home is being built there now. They could have left the tree, but I’m glad I got to enjoy it before they destroyed it.
How juicy and sweet
the fruit must be,
dear Ose . . . ♥
Weather inspires me – all kinds. I am fascinated by it. Had there been female meteorologists when I was a kid, I might have thought of becoming one. Clouds, weather patterns, wind…the difference among freezing rain, sleet, snow, fog, hoarfrost, frozen fog…and on a completely different note, what would it be like to fly into the eye of a hurricane? How does how we live affect weather patterns, and vice versa? Weather causes me to be curious and I’m in favor of anything that causes me to be curious. I like being curious and not being expected to be certain.
All aspects of nature inspire, if I’m paying attention.
Seeds: Carrying within themselves the potential to become much more, given food and water and light, and becoming what they were meant to be from their beginnings.
Trees: Communicating with each other to form a community, giving homes to beings of such variety, continuing to give gifts that extend beyond their growing lives as they become earth.
Water: Laughing when everything is running downhill, finding a way around resistance, not losing its essential nature as it transforms into steam or ice and back to water.
Sky: Extending past what we can see, carrying beauty and peace and excitement, from rainbows to cloud pictures to thunder and lightning.
Soil: The final resting place for everything, the bed in which all will rest and then the essential nurture and nutrition for new life to grow and bloom and then return.
I’m reading a daily essay in The Book of Awakening, by Mark Nepo. From May 6, Twig and Nest, opening with a quotation and closing with a suggestion for meditation:
I think I could turn and live with animals. They do not sweat and whine about their condition. Not one is dissatisfied.
— Walt Whitman
“It was a very small thing, watching a robin carry a twig too big for its nest. It tried once, then twice, to use it, and somehow, with its very small bird brain, it knew it was no good. It simply flew off and picked another.
I went and found the twig. There wasn’t a mark on it. I rolled it in my hand and thought of all the times I’ve labored, trying to make things too big fit. So often what we want is like that twig, too big to be of use, and we stay lodged in an unhappiness created by holding on to something that can’t complete our nest.
It was humbling to watch a small bird work, singing as it went, leaving what it couldn’t use as it found it. If we could only treat each other with such simple kindness.
– Meditate on your life as a nest that needs to be put together.
– Consider what you are after, what you are carrying–like a stubborn bird–that is too big to be of use.
– Can you put your life together more thoroughly by taking up some smaller version of what you need, something that fits?”
💗
Thank you, Barb. I love Mark Nepo and appreciate you sharing this. I had that book, but my dog Reese chewed it apart after we adopted her 🙃
Thank you Barb. Much to ponder.
An incredible response,
dear Barb,
along with Walt Whitman’s quote
and Mark Nepo’s meditation . . .
all an inspiration to me . . .
thank you for this. ♥
I’m going to get that book!
I love walking the brown sand beaches in Washington State with the tides rolling in and the wind filling my lungs. It’s like Mother Earth is dancing. I love flying above the state of Kansas and watching the fields of wheat, corn, soy beans below that look like colorful quilts but also remembering that there was a time when native grasses blew in the wind and fed the buffalo that roamed in herds to feast and naturally fertilize the land. I remember the years of living in Louisiana and feasting on fresh oysters, shrimp, crawfish and crabs. Sunday is Mothers’ Day and I will go to my son’s home to share it with him and his beautiful wife who have rescued so many feral cats and abused dogs. For the most part, we have not been good children to our Mother Earth but she just does her best to keep giving. She is an inspiration every moment of every day while we drop bombs and shoot missiles and fight over her real estate.
Ain’t it a shame, how the collective madness of some, treat our and theirs home?
Those of us,
dear Carol Ann,
who are not ‘dropping bombs
or shooting missiles’
must be diligent
to counteract these crimes against our Mother
with Love. ♥
I am inspired by the waves of Lake Michigan (I live in Michigan). I find joy in jumping and swimming in the waves. I find peace listening to the waves and watching the sunset. I feel connected, like I’m home, walking on its beaches, having the water splash up on the sand.
Survival, determination, diversity, uniqueness, and resiliency. We had a rose bush that made it through the harsh winter. Seeing it’s green growth brought joy to my spirit. The rhubarb plant has out done itself.
The leaves on my rhubarb are practically Jurassic, Yram! I have an acquaintance who uses rhubarb leaves to create bird baths with cement, imprinting them and creating a receptacle to refresh the thirsty birds.
Years ago a mentor suggested that if an uncomfortable conversation came up we should ask ‘if the rain will hurt the rhubarb?”did. Not this year!
I was often tempted to make a bird bath from the leaves but never took the leap. They are lovely.
The weather in Minnesota inspires me, because the changing of the 4 seasons create variety.
This morning, nature’s resilience inspires me. All the plants and trees got pummeled with snow yesterday, and today, most are popping back green and buoyant. It takes a lot more than one late-season storm to stop them from thriving.
Drea, something about the moisture that results from a good spring snow, (perhaps how it percolates into the soil?) that really makes the plants green up and grow!
It really does, Joseph. Such a treat to see.
It’s amazing,
isn’t it,
dear Drea?
I was almost blinded by a brilliant sun
shining on my very green lawn and garden this morning
after last night’s rain. ♥
Yes, something about the change in weather, the water … I will appreciate change today, and how it affects what we see.
Mmm… so many! How the trees stay grounded but sway with the winds. How all plants reach for the light. How the sky changes as the earth rotates, sometimes offering a glimmer of a rainbow or a shooting star. How the ocean can roar one day and be so calm the next. We are so lucky to be surrounded by such an inspiring creation!
Very inspiring SunnyPatti. Thank you.🩷
🙏🏼
There are so many aspects of nature that inspire me. Today, I’ll focus on mountains — especially older mountains that are more worn down. I live in Georgia, and the Blue Ridge is part of the Appalachian Mountains, which are among the oldest mountain ranges in the world. Since they are ancient, they are not craggy and bleak. They are verdant and covered in amazing colors. The spring and the fall are particularly beautiful. The mountains can look almost psychedelic. My husband and I will ultimately retire there.
The verdant mountains of the east, the Rockies and the continental divide ranges, the Pacific coast range and the brutally barren mountains of desert Nevada. All are majestic and magic to me, Avril.
I live near younger mountains, Avril: The Cascades and the Olympic Range. Since we so often have grey skies the common phrase on a clear day is “The mountain’s out!” when we can see Mt. Rainier (called Tahoma by the Indigenous people here), its sharp peaks glistening with snow. From our house it’s a relatively short walk to the water where we can look across to the Olympic Peninsula and see the Olympics as well. Thank you for describing your ancient mountains for us.
Mountains are so majestic. We lived in VA for about 10 years and would often go to the mountains. Both of my boys live near the rockies. It is so awesome.
I remember driving through the Blue Ridge Mountains in spring. The flowers were amazing–so much variety. And the mist. Such a beautiful area.
Resiliency, strength, adaptability, beauty
Michele, it’s exactly what I get up in the Twin Cities with the 4 seasons.
Nature’s diversity inspires me. As we humans are part of nature, we share in that diversity. Diversity makes life richer for all of us.
Another aspect of nature that inspires meis the cycle of life that is visible to those who look for it.
The cycle of life has also inspired me.
Richard, my favorite part about diversity is that it gives me a better idea of how to build my buddy systems.
The aspects of nature that inspire me are the resilience of grass during the winter and their growth when spring returns. I love my Twin Cities, which are covered in white as well as their liveliness painted in green and other colors of flowers. Happy, gifted, ordinary day to all! 🦗
My Ngoc, we did have a wet April. All that rain was going to lead to a lot of green grass.
Happy gifted, ordinary day to you!