Thursday, September 22, 2016


This planet has it's own agenda.
It's not personal no matter what our neurons tell us.

The sun is directly above the equator, and the hours of day and night nearly equal. They rub against each other like old friends to talk of many unseen things.
Waves of energy pull at all matter in this moment and I feel it even here encased in brick, surrounded by glass and steel, and wrapped in endless cables. I feel the pull of green going, of rot, re-purposing and rebirth, so mind churns up a memory  of Winter.

Turn the globe 360 degrees,
Spring arrives elsewhere.

It's been an ordinary day, telephone and doorbells unplugged, I puttered around sorting useful things saved,
assessing works in process and making some progress.
Electronic church bells toll six O'clock and the aroma of what's been steamed permeates my skin. I sweat organic chicken, ghee, potato, carrot, onion, garlic and turmeric.

 I exhale wild-caught Alaskan codfish.

I'm pickled in sweet soy and vinegar...
pepper and Salt preserved, and overflowing with gratitude for these and all the gifts sent by generous friends...the four cameras when mine crashed and burned (two from writing pal Barbara Hohenberg, two from blog buddy Deb Lacativa), and this quilted journal cover with two journals (from another blogger Laura osbun)
and when I opened the mail a short while ago 
this book (from my dear friend Nayra).

Night--A familiar silence vibrating,
reminding me that balancing is a practice that lasts,
that nothing is lost, that the past is present even as this moment slides into the future, that there's only now, and now, and now and now again.


Nancy said...

Thanks for the gift off this post, of you. xo

Mo Crow said...

(((Michelle))) you are such a beautiful wise spirit

grace Forrest~Maestas said...

and now, and now and now again.