A Pebble Makes a Ripple

                            smooth as glass
                            calm complacncy
                            the pond lies quietly
                            undisturbed
                            silent

                            splash
                            water ripple chaos
                            pebble disruptor
                            crud and rude
                            myopic
           
                            promises launched
                            accusations spat
                            some embrace
                            some irritate
                            disruption

                            silence lost
                            ripples call
                            pebble drops
                            to blog bottom
                            mud sludge

                            mud once sleeping
                            wake to voice
                            confusion hastes
                            aware now
                            speak

                            mirky unclarity
                            wild vocality
                            the pond boils
                            disturbed
                            loud

This is my truth. We float here in anticipation of the future of America united we stand. Um, united we stand. With the election our quiet pond became disturbed. Ripples from all angles began to form as the pebbles were tossed out with ignorance and anger. Many made their voices heard stripping bare; a protest. Many yelled back for a new way. And yet, more shied in their safe zones in the mud. Yet, the pebbles kept dropping to the bottom of the pond to wake the voiceless, to bring up the ugly truths, to unite those who once thought were solo. Our pond of America, the United States of America, is stirred up.  It is mirky and muddy. It is unclear. My folks, it is my truth that this is a good thing. It is unsettling, unclear, yet prudent. We are not aware of pain or joy if we don't call out. So now the silent mud is awake. Be awake. Listen. Share. Meditate. And love your neighbor. We are united as we are humans. Let us be the models of compassion and honor in the face of uncertainty.

Thanksgiving Blessings

     When I wake in the morning, I peer out a slit of a second story window to the north east. The sky is pale pink or coral as it silhouettes three trees. I have measured these trees growth in the twelve years I have inhabited this space by the levels of blind panels their tips touch. One is the first to turn golden in the late summer signaling fall is on its way. It is also the first to begin to leaf. I can predict with mild accuracy the weather of the day. Today, is sunny and windy. Gusts of wind bends the spruce like a wobbly soldier. The movement of the three trees in the subtle light is mediative.
     Yesterday morning during yoga my instructor, John, asked us to write something we were thankful for on a post-it-note and put it under our mat as our intention for our practice. "Now, there is your family, your job, your house, the food you eat. Let us now think about something smaller that you might over look; something in your life as simply as your breath."
     It didn't take me long to start writing about my hands and feet. Movement. I am thankful for movement. Holding my paintbrush can be painful after an hour. So I switch to my left hand or a bigger brush and see what I can get done in the remaining studio time for the day. Some days, I push myself beyond pain being inspired to create with the realization I will have trouble making dinner and holding my fork. Same with my right foot. I use my left for my sewing machine pedal and have developed nearly equal cadence control in free-motion quilting. Driving is tiring and my ankle can begin to cramp. Consequently, I hold the break with my left assisting something I learned to do when I stopped nose-up a steep hill and when I drove a Jeep Cherokee as the brake was so stiff. I reflect that four years ago after my craniotomy my right appendages could have been paralyzed. How would our, my family's, lives have changed? What would have become of my art? I couldn't drive my children to their music lessons and the swimming pool. And, not being able to climb stairs, I wouldn't be looking out a second-story window at sunrise-trees swaying in the wind on this Thanksgiving Day. But, I am. I am.
    Take a moment today to meditate on a moment you take for granted. Find thanks in the everyday, the ordinary, the sublime. As Americans, we have this annual day to slow down, gather our family, our friends, our peers, our enemies and be thankful. Everyone has goodness in them and a place on this Earth. We are here in this very place, this country, this state, this city, this home because we arrived here; this very space we exsist. Our neighbor belongs here. Those who anger us belong here. Today, follow the compassion of the First Peoples to the wayward aliens who washed up on the Atlantic coast in their wood ships hundreds of years ago. Find compassion as love begets love. Move. Move however you can. Push yourself to go beyond your fears and trepidations and be thankful. Allmen.