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from the ground up


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Snapshots of January.

On this unseasonably warm day, a small walk through the garden felt wonderful.  Feeling a lot more like late March than January, at 50 degrees.  A little sunshine on my face and deep inhalations of the sweet fragrance of warming soil.  Yes, please and thank you.





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Castle.

We awoke with our head in the clouds.

Thick, grey, heavy clouds.

Being in this season, sometimes we don’t notice, don’t even consider being out from under.

It’s hard to tell the weight until it is released.

Suddenly we found a secret stairway, the dark corners called us forward. 

And up we went.

Soon a thinning out, like water pushing onto a shore.

The promise of a window, more light and less dark.

Then a piercing ray,  a scattering of shadows, a swirling mist.

Then further up into the grand hall.

Everywhere sparkle, and shine, and wide, clean halls.

 

The magnificent palace of jewels sitting atop the still veil.

The January castle.

 

 


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Waxwings.

I love Bohemian Waxwings. As the seasonal twittering of birds shifts, they remind me of other times, other places, other people.  Whizzing by and chittering as I passed between classes, laughed with friends, talked with classmates.

They also find me here, now. You know when they’ve arrived, the whole flock of them, by their sweet, low utterances. Their lively chatter. Their collective murmurations.

What I love most, is their exuberant and seemingly erratic stop-and-go flight patterns. This type of murmuration, although not as profound as that of a starling, is amazing. Rising singly, then twisting, turning, circling; hundreds in unison.

From a science perspective, in simplest terms, they move when their neighbor moves. But there is much more. Arcing, swaying, expanding, contracting.  Inhaling, exhaling as a breath.

They are individuals in concert. A beautiful metaphor for embracing our own communities, and everything they are. However widespread, constantly changing.

I read that often a cedar waxwing is spotted amongst flock of Bohemians or vice versa.  And this as well, holds a metaphor for embracing community with similarities but also differences from ourselves. If we seek out our own truth, we find others naturally moving in adjacent harmony.  The friend with whom our child feels free. The family with whom we can laugh. The faces we see at first and last light. The pet who manifests love. The friends who remind us.

Friends or family, people or pets, groups or individuals. Spreading out, gathering in, turning together. Our flight pattern waning then waxing again.