this body of mine

This body of mine
so fragile and soft
yet strong enough to climb mountains
heal itself
and witness the reign of chaos on the earth.

This body of mine
so tender and impermanent
strong enough to plow fields
teach children
and witness the reign of chaos on the earth.

This body of mine
so breakable and complex
strong enough to dance for days
stay up all night
and witness the reign of chaos on the earth.

goodbye to the peaches

Ahh. The dangers of gardening in Colorado.  I went away last weekend and returned to the news that it had gotten cold two nights in a row and all the peach blossoms had frozen, so we will not be having peaches this year at home. Sigh. It has been two years now since they dripped from the trees and totally overwhelmed me with the fruit flies and rot. I was ready to try again this year, but will have to wait. I’m not sure if the frost got the apricots – but there should still be pears and at least a few apples.

Today is grey and the list of things to do is long. We’ll see if I can motivate, I’ve been doing a remarkably good job of taking this spring break time to play. Yesterday it was a lady’s trip to thrift stores and Orvis hotsprings. Yum.

This high-desert gardening thing has the added insecurity of being dependent on irrigation water. It should be turned on today and reach our house by tomorrow or Saturday. I’m ready for the water, but it is such a reminder that we haven’t fully reached sustainability here. I am waiting to plant more than just a few beds of greens until the water arrives.

Several days ago I received the guidance to meditate and sit with my complete and utter dependance on the earth. It is a relationship that I often take for granted, especially when my food comes from the grocery store and not always from the back yard. I honor this connection. I bow to the earth. I bow to this body. I bow again to the earth.

clean, clear, empty space

In this spaciousness
arises
sensation.
Tickle in belly,
itch on back where sunburn fades,
Trembling
like the quiver
of a toddler’s lip before they cry,
but untethered, floating in my internal space.
I am
borrowing this body from god.
I am trying to be gentle.
I am the one claiming
“me, my, personal.”
When really, in the clean,
clear, empty space
it is not so certain
where the boundaries really are.

collage of thoughts

I got distracted from blogging for a few days by:

1) sewing felted wool hats out of recycled sweaters (check out “Handmade Home” by Amanda Blake Soule, “The Sweater Chop Shop” by Crispina ffrench and “Felt it! Stitch It! Fabulous” by Katheryn Bieber)
2) reading “Slow Love” by Dominique Brown and “Outliers” by Malcolm Gladwell
3) playing music and teaching drum class on Tuesday (yay for frame drumming – it was really fun to share this instrument with folks)
4) my little black cat who likes to roll in the dirt (he’s just a scapegoat)

I’ve been having a lot of middle-of-the-night thinking. Not sure why, but sleep has been slippery around 4am for a week or so. Last night in my sleeplessness, I decided that what my creative writing class needed (and the whole school) and possibly the whole town – was diversity training. Because it can be a tricky thing entering the world after spending one’s life in such an isolated bubble that small-town Colorado presents. But I don’t feel qualified. I’m such a product of this environment, having lived here most of my life. . . but I could at least present masculinity and femininity on a sliding scale vs. a cut and dry line that some folks might view male and female and start there and see about getting backup.

In the news that I find baffling category: we would rather pump water into the earth to get out natural gas, than to find sustainable ways to create energy and keep our water for local food. Sigh. I do not get this species. And it saddens me. “Really?” I say, perplexed. And write another letter and sign another petition.

 

My little sproutlets are finding their way to the sun mixed in with about a million weedy sprouts. So it goes. Baby lettuce is so infinitely small, it always blows me away when things grow. While I spent a lot of time around gardens and growing things when I was little, it’s only been in the last three years that I have claimed gardening as a skill. I’m loving it. Very happy to have parsley, dill, cilantro, and kale in the cold-frame and more fresh greens on their way. It’s springtime.

Now in bloom:
peaches
cherries
plums
apricots
forsythia
tulip tree
daffodils
dandelions
periwinkle
violets
and a few snapdragons are about to bloom in my cold-frame
and the asparagus is up and going (even if a bit slowly). yum.