Heart Happy (cathy_edgett) wrote,
Heart Happy

Good Morning!!

I am happy to be back.  This is where I pause to breathe, and breathing and the pause are very big for me.  When I spoke at Esalen, Sharon Olds "got" that when she was stumped with writer's block, that if she paused to notice her breath, she would wiggle on through the slump.  I don't think about it that way,  but when I spoke of my book at the publishing workshop, people "got" that it was a spiritual book.  Since I had not planned to "bill" it as a spiritual book, I am this morning with what spirituality means to me.  To begin,  I look up the definition of spiritual and it really says nothing at all.

For me, spirituality is connection, connection with the breath, noticing where it wiggles in and out, how I am touched and where.  I notice that my cat Tiger lies exposed, allows air to flow on all sides, whereas little Bella likes to tuck into a pillow on a chair.  I see trust in how and where they sleep.  I think for me, spirituality is touch, connection, the breath, and feeling how much we all share, so I suppose the book is spiritual.  It is about the pause, and entering a slower place where one feels their own breath and how it mingles, influences, and touches the breath of others.  I think it is very important to live so that our breath has freedom and ease.  Perhaps, for me, that is spiritual.

The fog is in, and I am softly tucked with my two furry, sleeping friends.

May this weekend give you a chance to reflect on the veil between the worlds.   I am reminded now of a poem I wrote about that.  I wrote it after a visit to a wonderful, little pond, a break in a rapidly falling stream.  I was staying in Vicki's yurt in Ukiah.  The water truly did shake in a way that allowed us a vision into another world.   The toad was our guide.  For me, nature is spiritual and says it all.  I lean in to listen and breathe in what is said in trees, leaves, and ponds.  

The Gift


We sit by a pool,

a seasonal pool,

        a barrette on the braid of a stream.


Newts hang, dangling,

dark and still.

A toad sits on a stone

as though thinking a book.


Thought strings lanterns.


Water striders pucker the surface, like stars.


We think we see deeply,

until a shimmering romp shakes a depth so clear,

We see ourselves from the other side,

lifted on the palm of a giant love.


        The Zuni say,

                The distance between the living and the dead

                                is thinner than a strand of hair.

                                        A horsehair worm

                                                glides by.



        Life stretches through layers of cohesion, bonds.



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