Broken Arrow

Too much talking leads to
Unbroken silence.
Broken silence?

You can hear as well as you listen.
You can listen as well as you hear.

Silence is louder than words.
All it takes is a little bit of effort.
Only if it's worth it.

Along Came a Spider

Spiders have been plentiful in this little world of mine lately. Yes, it's because it's finally spring and the winter is finally, finally, finally finished (it's 89.5 degrees as I type).

Long ago I looked up the meaning of a spider's being in one's world:

A spider totem teaches you balance --between past and future, physical and spirit, male and female. She is strength and gentleness combined. She awakens creative sensibilities and reminds you that the past is always interwoven with the future. Tarantulas (and all spiders) are the keepers of the primordial alphabet and can teach you how to write creatively. Her body is shaped like the number 8 and she has 8 legs, which is symbol of infinite possibilities of creation. Her 8 legs represent the 4 winds of change and the four directions of the medicine wheel. Spider's message is that you are an infinite being who will continue to weave patterns of life and living throughout time. Do not fail to see the eternal plan of creation. Those who weave magic with the written word usually have this totem.

The last line is not lost on me, and is always the one I recall when one crawls near.

It's not for lack of writing that I haven't. It's not for lack of stories. It's not for lack of words. It's simply a problem of supply and demand. Limited supply of time or energy, and high demand for it.

Perhaps I need to take more cue from these little creatures walking into my world more and more these last few weeks as the snow finally stops flittering. Each one tells me to keep a notebook near to jot down a thought or line as it enters in, instead of thinking to myself, "I must remember that!" and then promptly forgetting. Whispering, "talk to text a new note!" Don't simply let them come and do nothing with them.

Perhaps...

Fly Like An Eagle

A few weeks ago I spied a bald eagle flying along the river's edge, very near town. Too close to town, I thought, to actually be an eagle. But it was. Soaring right over the front of my truck, finishing his daily errands and tending to family as I was finishing and tending to mine in the back seat.

As always when a creature enters my world on any given day, I looked up its meaning:

The appearance of an Eagle signifies a new beginning is coming soon. Whether it is a positive beginning or not depends on the energy you are putting out. The law of attraction states that what you give out, you receive. If you want good to come to you, put out good and positive thoughts. Eagle will help by bringing the opportunities to you. This new beginning could be a spiritual awakening. Eagle is a demanding totem, but one that offers so much reward at the end of the journey. Its four-toed feet remind you to stay grounded even when soaring high; its talons remind you to grasp the things of the earth; its sharp beak shows you when to speak, how much, and how strongly. This totem will show you opportunities and how to ride the winds to your benefit. Eagle people can live in the realm of the spirit yet still remain connected and balanced within the realm of the Earth. You must become much more than you ever dreamed possible.

We are poised on an edge of newness, if we let it be. So much chance wrapped into words, if it's what we are meant for.

I think of the eagle daily, trying not to lose his picture in my mind. I'm trying to draw from him to calm my ever-working thoughts, and just go in his direction, wherever it might be.

It Never Gets Old

My happy place. Not sure why, just is.

 

Our last visit was just last week. My husband asked me, "It never gets old, does it?"

And someday we will fulfill the promise we make to our children to take them to the buildings in the background, all the way in Canada. Twenty years ago you could walk across the Rainbow Bridge with 25 cents and a license. Renewed passport needed now.

Because on the other side, the view still never gets old.

Five

Five years ago, you came to me.
I wasn't ready for you, I sent you away.
I didn't know what it would mean.
What would be left.

The pain is mine alone, I know.
It's in my own eyes only.
I see it daily, I can't look too deeply
In anyone's eyes. Not even
My own.

I can't let them see what's there.
I can't bear to see myself.
The scar that's left.
I feel it every day.

Also Called Growing Up

Sometimes, you need to just have a clean break. Forget where you come from, forget what you know. And start anew.

De-babying

Emptying the dishwasher last night, I spied the corner of the utensil drawer that housed the babyfood spoons. Desperate to free up valuable real estate I grabbed up the pile of spoons and stepped toward the trash can. The spoons were almost in the can before the realization of the impact of that act: I was de-babying.

I walk around the Match-Box cars and Polly Pockets, and yearn for the day that I can sell the popper ball toy that takes up residence in the corner of the playroom so that the next toy can take its place, or, better yet, have nothing move in at all. When I can claim my rightful seat at the table opposite the head where my husband sits when it is vacated by the highchair. It's exciting. But...there's a certain melancholy to it.

Long ago we cleared the shelf in the cupboard where the bottles lived. But I drew back my hand from the garbage can and pulled out two of the spoons from the bunch before the others moved on. Someday, by someone, they might be needed, and I'll have that little bit of babyness to go to.