January 25 - January 29 Sad Woods and Sycamore Lace

2013- I had the opportunity to drive around New Jersey, about three quarters of an hour west of where I grew up. Something about the look of the woods instantly transported me back to childhood. It is partly the way any bits of forest are divided up by houses, gas stations, shopping malls and corporate offices and partly something in the way they look. These patches of oak woods are very different from the mostly maple and ash mix of upstate. Something about the grey of the trunks, the brown of the dense leaf litter and the ubiquitous sprinkling of discarded plastic bags and other trash is the color of sadness to me.
But looking up, here in the suburbs I have the chance to immerse myself in the patterns of sycamore branches against the grey-white winter sky. I am reminded of how each tree has its unique branching pattern more beautiful and intricate than the finest lace. I think it is the source of my love of lace. How better to sit, immersed in time, than by imitating the interwoven messages of the trees?

January 20 - January 24 Unmoored

 
2012-The reservoir is still in the process of freezing up, there are still open spots of chocolate water.  A five inch snowfall, freezing temperatures, shoveling walks, scraping windshields, shrinking back into the blackest parts of body and soul-yup, it’s definitely winter. If something’s incubating it doesn’t feel like anything you would want to see born.
2013-Away from home and my routines, I become aware of how intricate, repetitive and grounding they are; all the little details that make up a day and anchor a personality. New routines, new person? Not quite that but an irritating suspicion that my ordinary state may be one of more self induced numbness than I care to admit. Even joy can feel like a kind of unwelcome disturbance to that self regulated ‘comfort‘.
I have been using this extra time to explore new and more meditation. At the end of one session, sitting quietly with eyes closed, I had a strong sense that I could open my eyes and look into a mirror and see any face, accept that face as mine, and continue on, reacting to whatever the realities of that particular life. 

January 15 - January 19 Signs Unseasonable

2012-Back home for a week after a month in Florida. Following the weather here while I was away, its been very mild so far-the occasional single digit night or two and then back into the daytime forties a couple of days later. There’s been no snowfall to speak of though a couple of inches are forecast for tonight. Early as it is, I was surprised yesterday coming into a dark room to see the sky was still illuminated in the west at 5:30 pm. The hardest adjustment coming north I find is not to the temperature but to the shorter day.  It’s very discombobulating.
2013-Down in New Jersey for a month, I went for a walk right away.  Not far along, I saw a robin poking around in a lawn looking for worms. A little farther on, I saw a patch of pansies blooming in someone’s yard. And then, most astonishing, I saw what looked like a tree in bloom.  I went closer thinking it must be some kind of witch hazel- some pink variety I didn’t know- but it was some kind of cherry blooming unseasonably ahead of time. A lot has been written already about the biological consequences of this sort of thing such as weakening of the plant, damage to later fruiting, and varieties moving north and competing with locals there. I have always felt I just hated winter and any signs of spring always flooded me with pure joy. But now, in January? I feel nothing but concern. I understand, viscerally, really understand for the first time, the spiritual axiom about duality, that life can’t exist without death. How can there be a spring thaw without a winter freeze? What will be left to feel in March and April?

January 10 - January 14 Rainbows Out of Season

2013-Well sawing off the branch did keep Mr. Squirrel from reaching the feeder. I assume it was his need to go farther afield that led to my finding his body in the road a day later. So every act has its repercussions.
A sunny day found me basking on the south facing metal basement doors like a happy lizard. A whiff of warmed earth rose up and a rush of earthy joy shot through me like a clarion call.  Proof that, so far, I’m still alive.
Finding a treasure trove of guided meditations online (how can this not pour light into the world?), I treated myself to a lovely one focused on third eye opening.  Immediately afterwards, radiating something kind of magnificent, I stepped onto the front porch and was dazzled by a bright arc of rainbow directly overhead. (Instead of being part of a circle around the sun, it arced the other way-??-a topic for more research.) It faded in minutes. Anyway, this is where the choice comes in I wrote about last time. It’s up to me to choose whether to dismiss this as coincidence or choose to believe in synchronicity, some kind of sign. Or rather, since that strikes me as somewhat forced, to at least choose to remain open to the possibility of its having meaning.

January 5 - January 9 It's All About the Light

2013-Today the days start lengthening at both ends so to speak. There’s a translucent quality to the sky just after sunset, the yellows and blues reflected in the snow. When the radio’s turned off, its hard to credit that world at all when this one is so powerfully still and peaceful. If there’s to be magic in the world, we must make it. And the beginning of making is choosing-deciding what to select and what to set aside.
A squirrel has found his way to the bird feeder, so that’s the end of that-unless I can saw off that little branch and make it too far for him to jump. We’ll see.

I don’t need TV.
I see a little clown suit
On Mr. Squirrel.

January 1 - January 4 Games Bluebirds Play

2013-First time I’m not away in the beginning of January.
Walking at the reservoir, two pairs of bluebirds play a game with me.  They perch on the railing just ahead of me, and when I get too close, they, one at a time and in sequence, jump into the air and then resettle on the railing just ahead and then get ready to do it again. This goes on and on and they never decide to just land behind me and get it over with.  It makes me feel like Sleeping Beauty in the meadow.