For years she prided herself with reading and watching the news all over the world. Then, 9/11 happened. It felt just too close to home. How could she continue practicing her profession and remaining genuine in her words and in her voice if she was, herself, alarmed at times?
And so she cut out many forms of media only limiting news when she sought it in cyberspace. This way she could make more room for her mind to think rather than be drawn into areas not of her choice.
Television was then cut out altogether and and writing emptied her mind of distracting thoughts until she learned to pray and meditate. Chanting her mantra allowed her to shut out distracting thoughts…travelling more alone…walks in nature alone…allowed her to take those first baby steps into “being”. She felt less alone in her solitude than in crowds of people. Now if only, she could sing as beautifully as those angelic youthful voices in a choir…
at the water’s edge
echoes of drumming
the river roars
voice turns to honey
chanting Lokah Samasta
striking yet unassuming
humming with every ripple
immersing feet with humility
lights up at any age
like an old well
pouring life into the source
Leaving work flirting midnight, she looked up at the sky and began her pursuit. The sky illuminated at times showing off its teal blue and then she noticed patches of white and grey. On she went aiming for the perfect spot…
over and under
preying through black forests
chasing the glow
It was late at night between Christmas and New Year’s, January, 1968. A time where mini skirts,fish-net stockings and short pea coats were the fashion…never warm enough for those winters in Quebec. A tuque or beret was fashionable but never worn covering the ears…that would not be stylish. The walk from the rec centre was several kilometers to her home by the river. How he fell in love with her baby blues…
There are several ways to escape from the rat race, busy days and worries. Depending on what time I have available will determine what I do. Speed walking, cycling or sitting by the lake, the river or allowing the river rapids to drown my thoughts and worries away, they all can do wonders, the latter is my favourite.
One does not always have the time or opportunity to get out, however, nor does the climate permit this. But, I can always depend on music. And that is what I am doing tonight at my work break…no problems on my mind…just me and ivory keys.
I reread this beautiful early morning haiku and felt bad that I had not written a more classical haiku with a softer ending that makes you think…a little. I don’t know the names of many birds, most flower and trees. So honestly, Carpe Diem DOES keep me on my toes…haha…and even before that reading many of Georgia’s poems has taught me a little more each day.
I looked at that photo Chèvrefeuille posted with those lovely shiny droplets hanging from the branch and wrote another completion. The only thing I was missing was the name of a bird that IS still here in Quebec, Canada during late autumn and winter months. So I searched again and found this lovely video about winter backyard birds in Canada. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did. Well, I actually learned a think or two…again (grins).
For centuries this dry area, a massive creek bed, has seen the disappearance and return of water in a series of flash floods. I found it fascinating that the Zin river in the Negev desert suddenly transformed due to heavy rains from the mountains. This river runs 75 miles long and drains into the Dead Sea. (read more here)
In the Old Testament it is said, that Moses sent twelve spies to cross the Promised Land and that the Zin River, in biblical times, marked the border of Israel.
Now watch this video and you will see as these bystanders also witnessed the flow of water into a once barren river. I had to watch it twice so I could immerse in my feelings of that moment of wonder. It felt like the Great Spirit was smiling down on our planet in one part of the world, in the Negev desert.