Showing posts with label rain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rain. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Rainy Day and Green Leaves


I love writing haiku. It forces one to be succinct (and since I love to use words, succinct is a good thing!). Today, the skies are a soft grey (making the new leaves that much greener) and the day reminded me of a haiku I wrote in 2000 while on a Vision Quest:

Ovation

The rain falls on leaves.
The leaves nod in agreement.
All applaud Nature.



It was a beautiful morning to take pictures. The green-grey leaves of hostas holding water and the amazing growth of our Colorado Blue Spruce. I love blue spruces; no matter what time of day or what weather, they look like they have silvery moonlight shining on them. They really are magical. This tree is about 8 years old; we planted it after Yule one year (instead of having a cut tree). It took a while to take root, but once it started growing, it has really shot up! (Maybe that's why new growth is called "shoots" because they really shoot up and out fast!) The volunteer pine tree shows growth, too.

I hope you enjoy your own new growth today.
Peace,
Kate

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Phases and Cycles

It's still grey and rainy here. Yesterday afternoon we had a brief reprieve with sunny skies. It's not that I don't love the rain; I do. It just makes me feel like curling up with a good book (or a honey who's read one!). And I don't feel like I have time to do that.

Hmmm... is that a hidden "should" in there? Does that translate into "I SHOULD be doing something else"? Probably. Yes, I'm sure it is. I found myself "shoulding" about my teens yesterday. Next to myself, I'm probably most judgemental of them. Heavy burden for all of us!

So today is Day 6 in the 37Day challenge to change just one thing in your life. I thought I was doing well... (I'm not going to say I should be doing well...). But we sure have a lot of ways to disguise a word and the sentiment behind it.

A few times, I've wrestled with "should" and had to stop and wonder why I couldn't say, "I want to do this" or "I don't want to do this" instead of "I should...". This is usually when I need to run errands, run kids to appointments, etc. "Should" is really easy with kids: I should be a better mother, I should have more fun with my kids, I should be more patient with my kids. I've been reading Christiane Northrup's "Wisdom of Menopause", which is a great resource for both scientific and intuitive insights into "the change"... and change it is! Northrup states that when a woman enters menopause (I'm 55 and still -- occasionally -- having my cycle), her brain literally rewires itself from primarily nurturing others (the Mother mode) to focusing on herself and her desires. So even though I still have teens at home (I was 40 when we adopted our kids), my rewiring has shifted already.

Most of my artwork is about the Feminine. Mother Nature. The three stages of Woman (Maiden, Mother, Crone). The Goddess. The Moon.
From a cycle standpoint, I know I am on the cusp between Mother and Crone. If I look at the Moon Phases as a symbol, I am at the gibbous waning moon phase. Gibbous means convex on both sides. Full, but not completely full. The Full moon represents the Mother in all her pregnant and nurturing glory. This is typically during the 2os and 30s and 40s. And while we have many more women choosing to begin motherhood in their 40s, I have learned that when you have a daughter at 40, then she and you end up going through hormonal changes at the same time: her going into her menses, the mother finishing it. That can make for some intense times (especially when you're both Fire signs)!


I treasure the Feminine. I have learned how strong the Feminine is. I feel outraged whenever I hear anyone put down the strength of women. I read a great quote the other day: "We have a secret in our culture, and it’s not that birth is painful. It's that women are strong." (Laura Stavoe Harm). Whether it is observing women of courage, whether it's canning tomatoes, whether it's reading about women in history, I am a full-fledged fan of the Feminine.

And sometimes I want to celebrate the Feminine all by myself.

I just sneaked a peek at Patti's 37Day blog, and today is Day 7 (which day did I miss?!? What else am I missing?) and she writes about being selfish, doing things for ourselves. Interesting that I just flipped to that as I was going on about "shoulding" myself about the kids.

So now, I am going to curl up and read a good book. Maybe even take a nap. After I pick up Paige from school. Because I really want to.

I hope you indulge in some "self" time today of celebrating the Feminine!
Peace,
Kate

Friday, March 27, 2009

Earth Bliss

Have you ever noticed how green the plants appear in fog or under dark clouds? The greens seem to pop. I love the contrast of green and grey. Not only was it my first impression of England (back in 1981, when breaking through the clouds during our landing descent into Heathrow) but grey really does cause everything else to brighten. Like the soft pink sprinkles of a weeping cherry tree in our backyard. These trees are just breathtaking when they are big, old, and full! Ours, although older, has been shaded by other taller trees for years and years. Sadly, we lost a 72 foot white oak in a hurricane a couple of years ago (we're still warming our house with some of its wood!) and the Chinese chestnut is starting to decline with age and isn't shading it as much as in previous years. So the weeping cherry is getting more sunlight, and therefore is blooming more. Both sides of the coin: death and birth. The way of the Earth.


This is our fourth day of rain and/or mist. It's almost like Nature has formed a coccoon around the mountains in anticipation of spring's burst of blooms and flight. The weeping willows (another favorite) are feathering out. Frost was right: "Spring's first green is gold." I love how trees and bushes seem to tremble with color just before the new leaves/buds sprout. There's a subtle excitement in the air that I can feel and almost see. And the smell of that first spring rain is such a joy to me! It's as though the dirt is rising to catch those first drops, eager for reunion and interplay. One can smell the Earth's excitement!

As I think about Nature's excitement, my mind wanders back to this past summer when I visited crop circles in Wiltshire County, England. The circles we visited were in fields of barley. They are not always found in fields of grain; however most are reported in England, specifically the Wiltshire region.

Crop circles are created by electromagnetic energy that somehow form perfect, natural, and exquisite works of art. The energy causes great heat, but only lasts split seconds so that the crops are not burned. The crops are bent at growth nodes but not harmed; eventually, the stalks straighten and the grain finishes maturing for the harvest. That's one difference between naturally-occurring crop circles and the man-made hoax circles: the hoaxes damage the crops (they are also not perfectly created; even I can recognize a hoax with its irregular lines and faulty geometry when I see one and I'm no expert!)

I had never walked through a field of grain before. I've been in cornfields, but that is completely different from barley or wheat or oats. The day was overcast and windy, and as we were walking out of the field, the sun started peeking through the clouds. So I watched the fields come alive as it partnered with the winds and the sun. The grain danced with the wind and laughed as the sun shone between the clouds. I felt that I was observing a living being. It was like watching the ocean, always moving and changing and singing and sacred it in its place on the Earth. And then I was overcome by an exquisite sense of bliss from the grain: for the first time in my life I truly understood the term "staff of life". I was surrounded by life and the joy that the grain held.

Some farmers fear the circles because they don't understand what causes them and so consider them vandalism or -- worse yet -- works of evil. They mow them down as soon as they discover them. Some farmers, however, have small boxes at the gates to their fields so that people who visit the crop circles can leave a small donation. There is a specific etiquette to visiting crop circles: only walk in the tram lines, do not destroy any crops, and always close gates behind you are three of the most important.

Our guide, Francine Baker (an internationally-known authority on crop circles), maintains they are created by "higher intelligences". I'll leave that to your own interpretation, just as she left it to each of us to choose how to interpret her term. However, whoever or whatever creates these works of art is loving and peace-filled because when I was in the circles, I felt healing and peaceful energy coming from the phenomenon.

Francine has worked with the crop circles for 20 years. French Canadian, Francine traveled to England to study ancient symbols more than two decades ago and once she discovered crop circles, she never left. Circles incorporate ancient symbols and sacred geometry.
Not only has she studied the symbols, but Francine has also done scientific research on the circles, taking samples of grain and earth from the circles for independent scientific analysis. The effect of the energy literally changes the chemistry of the dirt that the circles are in. We all know that heat chemically changes whatever it affects. So it makes sense that the grain and the earth is chemically changed. And circles often occur in the same fields from season to season. That is because they are often located on "ley lines", or Earth energy lines.

As we left the circle we walked single file along the tram lines. I flashed on the scene from "The Gladiator" when the hero was dreaming of reuniting with his family, and he was walking through a beautiful field of grain, his fingertips brushing the bearded seed heads. The sun was golden and the grain was dancing in the breeze. It was a vivid and sensuous scene: watch it, one could almost feel the grain and hear its whispers. I asked Carla in front of me, "Did you see "The Gladiator"?" and she answered, "Yes. I know exactly which scene you're talking about."

As I was leaving the field, I felt absolute bliss from the grain and the earth. And I had another scene flash in my head. I "saw" the farmers planting their grain seeds in the early spring in rows of rich earth. I saw the seeds germinate in their dark earthy womb, sprouting delicate roots and the first stem that would push through to the surface and the sun. I saw these seeds growing and strengthening, deepening their roots in the rich soil that had been enriched by the previous crop circles created there and lengthening and lifting their first leaves into the air and to the sky. I saw them facing the sky and holding up their leaves and joyfully exclaiming, "Do me! Do me!" like a child begging to be tickled. The vision still makes me grin.

So these are some of the reasons I love crop circles and want to keep them in the forefront of my mind: they are benevolent and beautiful, amazing and awesome. We are surrounded by miracles all the time, and some of them are so outstanding and astounding that we just can't ignore them or write them off as coincidence. That is the magic and miracle of crop circles.

I hope you see the miracles around you today.

Peace,
Kate