December 3rd, 2005

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Morning Miracle every day -

This morning I saw the stars, bright lights in a black sky, and then, the pink of dawn. I was reminded of one of my favorite poems, Daybreak by Galway Kinnell.


  On the tidal mud, just before sunset,
dozens of starfishes
were creeping. It was
as though the mud were a sky
and enormous, imperfect stars
moved across it as slowly
as the actual stars cross heaven.
All at once they stopped,
and, as if they had simply
increased their receptivity
to gravity, they sank down
into the mud, faded down
into it and lay still, and by the time
pink of sunset broke across them
they were as invisible
as the true stars at daybreak.

Galway Kinnell

I want to speak about the feeling of loss.  I think that is what I was feeling yesterday morning, that place where the leaf has said good-bye to the branch and is floating down toward the ground.  Yes, I could just be in the float, but I was looking up at the branch, wanting to thank it for all that it has been to me.  Today, I am in the float, and one day, I will meet the ground.   For now, I am here.  
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Checking in -

This morning I had another blood test and I know it was better than okay, because of the creativity of your visualizations. Thank you!! I met with my book group today in Inverness, and all exclaim on how healthy I look. Well, how could I not with so much going on inside? I think God and Goddess are taking notes on new ways to do white blood cells. Mine are quite the thing. I celebrated a rich, full day of ease, and have felt energy from early morning until night. Thank you!! I live in lively peace.
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A great gift!!

I share with you Jane's poem.

The End of Beginning

Sometimes a door shuts, so softly the air barely whispers
It seems a small thing, the pull of hydrogen, carbon
Then you notice that something you've known all your life has gone missing.
Like an ear that goes deaf, a dog that's gone lost  -- here and then not.

It seems a large thing, the attraction of carbon to carbon.
You spend some time feeling the edges this something fit into,
Something whose secrets you¹ve held in your throat, here and then not,
Know the shape of your loss against sky til its absence is no longer new.

You spend some time missing the spaces that held it.
Still alive in your cells, in the bright flash of memory
You sing for the missing until being gone is something forgotten
Except for the lightning it makes through your limitless dreams.

Still alive in your cells, in the you that is past
The scent you've rubbed in your palms now is absent
Except in the tangle of vast inner space.
Sometimes a door opens on a landscape unknown.

Oxygen cracks with the scent of ozone and salt.
Now the ground softens, the air opens outward
You pass through the door, embracing  the space
Where gravity loosens its grip on your footsteps.

Now the hills melt, the air becomes rare
Your lungs are balloons from which you're suspended
And gravity loses its grip on your feet.
There is nothing around to signify human.

Your lungs become wings with which you can fly
Below there's no tree, no house and no person
There is nothing around not even a stranger
By which to measure your rise and your fall.

Below and above is a landscape of light
No hunger or loss or understood language
By which to measure your joy or your fear.
It's a small thing. It's simple. You¹re free.

janeannflint 2005