Being There

...so, several things have been trying to get my attention lately.  The need for focus, the desire for a deeper, more authentic experience.  For being there. Showing up for my own life. Synchronicity has spoken to my soul, loud and clear.

My re-reading of my last year's rewilding posts and how they got derailed by my tendency to turn everything into work, into a "jobligation" caught my attention.  An inveterate teacher and a lifelong "fixer" (as well as spending a chunk of my life as a caregiver), it's no surprise, but not all that conductive of the end I'm aiming for.  Or mean to aim for, at any rate.

And then this post appeared in my memories, on what inspired you, from our Artist's Journal Workshop blog, and this one, from this blog three years ago today, on the addiction of social media.  (Yes, three.  I keep trying...)

And yet...there is this pull, from both directions.  If something becomes habit, becomes dry, only going through the motions instead of being engaged, fully THERE...is this productive?  On the other hand, this caught my eye in a book I'm reading--the concept that structure, discipline, repeated actions or rituals can keep us going through those dry times, until we can find our focus again.

That last was something I often heard in my church years.  I spent a time in the Third Order of St. Francis 20-some years ago, but found when I needed a more focused, personal spirituality--at least that's how I perceived it--rather than saying the hours with the church, I was no longer welcome as a member of that community.  The discipline, the praying with the church, was paramount--so said my director.

A friend just repeated the concept on a Facebook post, in different words.  Keep going, keep doing it (whatever it is), until you're inspired again.  But does that work?  For you?  Or for me?  I suspect that's a very individual answer.

I want to be present to my life.  Presence has been a goal for many years now...mindfulness.  Being there.

And yes, I have a tendency to read about it rather than DO it, sometimes...believe me it's not the same.

But I recently read a pair of books that made a very big impression on me: Gerald May's The Wisdom of Wilderness, and David Abram's Becoming Animal: An Earthly Cosmology.  May's book was brilliantly written, personal, engaging, and deeply moving to me.  Abram's had a similar theme...being fully ALIVE, in all our senses.

I don't want the days...my journals...my reading, my creating...to be simply going through the motions.

And yet...two years ago I chose "presence" as my word of the year.  Last year at this time, I wrote of re-focusing.  Presence.  Being there.

Perhaps someday I'll actually get there...

Wandering Between the Rains...Day 2

An unexpected rain storm necessitated a change of plans...which is really what this is all about, come to think of it.  Response, not plans.  And so I took a fresh juicy peach out onto the covered back porch with my coffee, my journal, and a tiny candle and enjoyed just being.

I've always loved fire and been drawn to it...this morning's rain necessitated a much smaller one!  But the scent of woodsmoke speaks to my soul, and so I found a dry twig to be my primal incense...

The hole-stone I found yesterday became a pendant to remind me of serendipity and exploration...

The wet logs, years old, are home to many things including this slug.  He moved amazingly quickly!  I'd almost lost him by the time I found my camera...

Someone's home is spangled with crystals...Grandmother Spider hides inside, wisely keeping dry.

The oldest logs wear striated Elizabethan ruffles...they feel velvety to the touch.

Boris has been doing yeoman service, directing the torrents away from our foundation...he never fails to make me smile as I brush the leaves and cobwebs from his ears. 

I am not sure why a pool in a stone always makes me think of the Eye of God...

The striped hostas make flowers that droop...they're spangled with rain as well.  Between showers I wandered through our urban wilderness to see what I could see.

It's such a pleasure to have small bits of nature nearby.  One of my first natural history books, long out of print, was called The Local Wilderness, and I love finding it still.  In truth, more now than ever.

Trumpetvine flowers remind me of my grandmother's back garden...I used to wear them on my fingers when I was a child.  Quite festive, really...Dragon Fingers!

Bright leaf shines like a beacon against the sodden soil...

It was a most satisfying day, ending with dinner out with my husband, and, right before bed, a downpour that filled rivers and streams and overran low-lying roads.  I'm very glad we got to the cabin yesterday, because when the long muddy drive is soaked it's hard getting back out!

All is well, all is well.