I wanted to write something profound. Something uplifting and fun to help lift our focus… I’m sorry it just isn’t there tonight. So I offer you this poem written by Canadian poet, David O’Meara. However, what I do want to add is that we do have the perfect opportunity at hand to have those deep conversations that we may not otherwise share. Take care, everyone.
"Nothing," he said, "it's nothing."
Then nothing was said. Silence; nothing.
What she asked had come from nothing.
Sweet nothing, really, was all he said.
They cut their links like little wires, said
nothing about it afterward, nothing.
All over nothing.
So never to talk of what they said
until all that was ever said
was nothing, and so nothing was ever said.
The past several day I’ve had the pleasure of seeing owls when I am out for my walk. Standing in the space of their presence brings me a sense of joy and calm – a moment to forget everything that is happening in the world around me.
A Quiet Strength
Hope is a great-horned owl.
It is yellow eyes
that harness strength.
It is open eyes
that face shadows.
Hope allows you to soar
on winds of change
to leave some old habits
and bring something new
into your life.
on a tree limb,
for subtle signs,
sees what usually goes
below your radar.
Hope uses the beauty
to inspire creativity.
Little can stop
an owl once it has set
on "the prize"
Some Fun Facts About Owls
Owls have specialized feathers with fringes of varying softness that help muffle sound when they fly. Their broad wings and light bodies also make them nearly silent fliers; which helps them stalk prey more easily.
An owl has three eyelids; one for blinking, one for sleeping, and one for keeping the eye clean and healthy.
By Jan Zwicky
On a bad day, you come in from the weather
and lean your back against the door.
This time of year it's dark by five.
Your armchair, empty in its pool of light.
That arpeggio lifts, like warmth, from the fifth of B minor,
offers its hand - let metell you a story...But in the same breath,
semitones falling to the tonic:
you must believe and not believe;
that door you came in
you must go out again.
In the forest, the woodcutter's son
sets the stone down from his sack and speaks to it.
And from nothing, a spring wells,
falling as it rises, spilling out
across the dark green moss.
There is sadness in the world, it says,
past telling. Learn stillness
if you would run clear.
Today I am sharing from Sharlyn HiDalgo's "The Healing Power of Trees." In her book March 21 - April 17 is Hawthorn Month Here is a sample of what she says: "Despite the jubilant celebration of spring's arrival, this month is a time to quiet oneself and go within. ...it refers to personal sovereignty in which we reclaim our personal power and pay attention to our own inner life. Fasting, ritual cleansing, and refraining from one's usual habits and patterns is encouraged. We may want to seek retreat and silence in order to reconnect with the divine and the unseen worlds." How timely!!
Today I am sharing a tanka
written by the Heian-era
Japanese female poet Izumi Shikibu
around the year 1000.
Stay well beautiful readers.
Although the wind
blows terribly here,
also leaks between the roof planks
of this ruined house.