Showing posts with label Time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Time. Show all posts

01 January 2012

Success is a Moving Target


It's 2012.

Last night I listened to the echoes of fireworks and gunfire in the distance that were carried upriver to my ears. The night stretched on and I considered the past year's events as I waited for the immense palette of sunrise to unfold the sky and earth with the patient strokes of lumière tisserand brosse.

It's a new year, right? Or, is it an old year tonight? Why am I so easily slipping through time right now? There is a great, thunderous but silent, vibrant pulsation and the words of the year past pour back at me in dissonant harmony. They say nothing is new under the Sun. They say everything changes, adapts, evolves, transforms, nothing is everything, new is the new old. They say the future is unwritten and that our paths are predestined. They say that chaos cannot be contained, nor peace achieved. They say that cataclysmic events are of God and that science is the language of no God. They say the Universe is infinite but that we are finite.

What a racket they made around my fire. I sent them all away with a glance and stared into the embers. I threw a little sage and bistort on the flame and focused, picked up my hook and the shawl I've been slowly adding to, and making loops and stitches, wove my way into the new year. Nothing much has changed. Success is still a moving target.

I started my first book for the pagan reading challenge today. Mundane things have monopolized too much of my time this year and it has worn on me. I feel the need to dive deeper in relationship with Earth. I know what I need to do to fix me; now, all I have to do is try a little more regularly.  

20 December 2011

A Hole in the World

My face is clouded by the shameless wind.
My head is bowed by the heavy sky.
I make my crooked way unseen and unheard.
My legs are bowed. My feet are splayed.
My bones are brittle. My teeth are all worn.
My breath escapes me through a hole in the world.
My thoughts like quicksilver slip out of my grasp.
My body, bent and distorted by time's embrace,
Stumbles through what's left of my life.
My ears are numb. My vision's blurred.
My passion's spent. My soul inured.
And yet I continue I still go on
For no other reason but to hear winter's song.
The cold clean air that bites at my cheeks
The stark still shadows of a December's Eve.
These plain simple things become so precious and real
Each breath each moment that might be repealed
Each step is my eternity.
Each day my infancy.

By Evelin Cardenas


31 December 2010

Some Funny Little Number on the Calendar

Painting found here.
...but not to be taken lightly. What's so big about New Year? The pattern doesn't change, really. Sure, we advance the numbers, but tomorrow is still followed by all the rest of our tomorrows. I find the significance to be somewhat more academic. 

We speak of history in terms of days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, millenia. We speak in present of flowers opening, suns rising and setting, full and shadowed moons, brilliant and falling stars, entire constellations, and all the possibilities in all the universes. As we open and close decades, I try to consider what someone like me, many centuries hence, will think of this present we have. 

The present. It's so aptly synonymous with gift. We think of the future as holding everything. Our dreams, desires, wishes, fulfillment.  Sometimes we're in such a human hurry to get to the future, that I find myself longing for the gift, the present --- and when the flowers open, I remember I'm here in it. 

When the skies turn from obsidian to gray and then to pinks and yellows and greens and blues, I remember. When the trees again bud and bear leaves, I remember. When they turn to ochre and fall, I remember. When I feel the chill down to the bone, I remember. These blessed moments -- no matter what the future holds for me, this present is where history is written. At least the kind of history I like to lose myself in. 

New Year 2011 is for reflection on moments having been written by the hands of time, budding in the faces of our children, fading in the paint of the cottage, tinkling on the chimes that have lasted that long on the porch. The memories of the past decade are still freshly blowing on the icy breezes, very much living within me, and I'm carrying them forward. Is this carrying that I'm doing the gift of the present? Is what I'm carrying forward a gift for me, for future generations? 

When they study their ancestry, 'back then, when they used the infinite, never-ending Gregorian calendar,'  and as they pontificate on what we thought or ate or talked about or how dense our bones were, what will be the gift we left for them with the present we have been given?

Hmmmmn.....there's a bonfire keeping the chill off and a Crone close by stirring the cauldron.

11 December 2010

Solstice With A Hint of Lunar Eclipse


We're about to witness an amazing event. I've been waiting for this all year. This thirteenth full moon, the Solstice crossover, the Geminids showering us, aspected by the cross of outer planets Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Pluto. Many of us will likely not be alive for the next one set to occur in 2094.

09 August 2010

The Gathering

Rosa Canina

Rose hips are reported to have up to 60 percent more vitamin C than citrus fruit and are rich in bioflavonoids. Rose hips are a natural way to get vitamin C, vitamin E and vitamin K, and help to prevent and treat various infections, especially colds and flu. Rose hips quicken the healing of bruises and skin irritations. Inflammation and sore throats find comfort in them,  and we women gain maximum benefits including the reduction of uterine cramps and heavy menstrual flow.  Rose hips contain calcium, citric acid, iron, niacin, phosphorus, tannin, vitamin A, B1, B2, and P. 

They are a natural stimulant that gently moves bowels and cleanses urinary systems.  When used as a pectoral, they are a remedy for pulmonary and other lung diseases. Tonics made from them will help to strengthen organs. Stress-related and nervous conditions are eased, immune systems bolstered,  circulatory and respiratory systems improved, and they are an effective blood cleanser. There are too many benefits to list them all, the least of which is the aromatic benefit that always makes me giddy when collecting, drying and storing this wonderful bit of Nature's Medicine Chest.

The hips are easily collected, rinsed and I remove their stems and stalks and leave them to dry in the closet. The petals I've collected for drying as well, and am drying them with red clover. When ground, this will make the base for a tea to aid with menopause symptom relief and perk up a sex life or two, not to mention the hundreds of other uses I'll put them to.
 Aside from the red clover and the rose hips, I collected my poppy seed pods and tapped their beautiful hulls and watched as the seeds poured out so nicely in the dish. My reserves are slowly, but certainly, being rebuilt.

20 June 2010

A Woman's Lack of Good Temperament



          This time last year, I threw a fit. A temper tantrum worthy of a toddler, really. My mother was gone and I didn't yet accept it. What I did accept was that I wouldn't have time to put in and tend my garden. I bitched and groaned, bellyached to the walls and got quite sullen. Midsummer last, I was so despondent with my lack of time to spend in the earth that I brought home bags and bags of daisy seeds and threw them all over my garden (my mother loved daisies). They brought me no joy as the planting wasn't right for them to grow. 

       Funny thing is, midday last, I went for a short walk through the pasture to see if I couldn't catch sight of the Old English and her chicks, and as I neared the garden patch -- overgrown as we are moving -- the most fantastic result of my distemper was laid out like a white and yellow carpet before me, with a few volunteer garlic, onions, poppies and cosmos. Who says having a bad attitude doesn't pay off ?  I think I may have to disagree; and I may go further to say that sometimes, you just have to cast your seeds blindly and know that time will pass and bring beauty of ugliness and joy of sorrow. 

      I've cut my share and my bath is now filled ... and I'm dyeing them. Third grade science, I know; but I also like blowing bubbles. I celebrate the coming of Midsummer with my tantrum-bred daisies.

19 June 2010

Welcome Midsummer


Rest is not idleness,
and to lie sometimes on the grass
on a summer day
listening to the murmur of water,
or watching the clouds float
across the sky,
is hardly a waste of time.

~John Lubbock~

18 May 2010

Thirty Years Ago


My Aunt 's autobiography "Wind in My Face" I saw on my bookshelf this morning and I've been thinking of her all day today. What amazing stock I come from, my grandmother's mother, she and her sisters . . .

I remember her regaling me with tales of walking on the wings of the planes (and what the Wind taught her up there) and about riding cross-country on her Harley in 1938, her friend Maddie riding alongside her; I remember her story of she and Herb, a man of many precious qualities, who never tried to harness or inhibit her feminine potential.

Thinking back to when Mt. St. Helens erupted thirty years ago, I chanced on these memories.

09 May 2010

In the shadows . . .

A perfect day - this day.
    I addressed all the issues for the weekend early.
      Yesterday, I cooked for Damon's Mom.
Last night, I cried for my own.

We put almost 400 miles on the new sled
    Because the Sun demanded our homage be paid.
     We immersed ourselves in glorifying it.
I stood alongside daisies,



    Sneaked a picture of my lover in the grass.



     I spent an absolute fortune
In time with those shadows.