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Holding Hands with Time

Does time really change things?
Or do we change as time ticks on by?

Do seasons really change?
Or does change turn the season’s 
landscape from a blanket
of fluffy white snowflakes
to tiny green buds
exploding into colors like the ones
found on an artist’s pallet
only to fade
waiting for the clock to strike
mid-night?

Does time begin again?

Sitting quietly, holding time by its hands
or is time grasping my hands?

For a first, sitting mesmerized, I see the
curl of every joint moving over the
paper like a wave following
its natural progression.

These words written as time plays forward.
They, too, have become natural.

Really?

Here, holding hands with time,
my fingers strum the strings
of a guitar…a G chord, then a C…

they etch a drawing unraveling on
a blank page—time seems to have
forgotten.

But, has it?

I am holding hands with time.
Was it always this simple?

What seemed so painfilled…
why, those moments sealed time
long enough to ache.  The love
I thought I knew,
now, holding hands with time.

Love is more than mere thought—
it is beyond a feeling—

it is love

found in a pair of hands
touching time
trusting in between
each second
when time stops

—a hand will grasp
mine and…

Monet’s Brush

It was night,

and a sea of clouds
hung like a marina of vessels
bedded down, held in place.

Yet, it would not be so.

The wind struck a tune.
It gave a sequence of trumpeted ‘blasts’
until each anchored cloud
gave way.

And, drawing back,
there she hung,
nothing could out shine her—

the moon’s purpose
not to compete.

Instead, the curl of her essence
blessed the night.

The stars, like boats,
launched themselves

painting night’s ocean
with a brush as fine
as Monet’s.

Thank you for walking with my ‘words’ through the vast country side of Switzerland.
My wings are preparing for another flight, a NEW Pilgrimage.
I will connect when I land again on home shores.
Till then…
‘Ring the Bell that still can ring,
there is a crack, a crack in everything—that’s how the LIGHT gets in.’ 
                                                                                                                                                            Leonard Cohen

Switzerland 2022

July 19^th, 2022

It doesn’t have to be the Alps.
It could be the flutter of a
butterfly’s wings decorating
an array of pastel colored
wildflowers
Or
the continuous flow
of the water fountain in town
after town where
—the children splash & play
—the adults dip their hands in
lifting the cool refreshing
drops to their brows

AND

The Pilgrim, pausing,
refills a water bottle.

The sound of the Steeple bells
announce a new hour
while ‘clanging’ bells chime through the
endless minutes in a day
draped around cows grazing
throughout the hillside…

such peace.

July 20^th, 2022

“You are part of the Great Oneness
and what you do affects the whole…

You are a voice in the chorus,
a string on the Beloved’s guitar.
When you change your note,
you change the whole chord.

                           ~~~Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Closure

Over mountains.
Dancing above clouds.
Step after step after step…

Final destination—
a lake of glass.
Its ‘blue’ shades dip
into the sky.

My mind ‘jumped’ in…
No longer was I
one single drop in this sea.

I am the sea in every drop.

 

Switzerland 2022
July 17^th, 2022

Wallbach Gorge

A storm found its way
into the gorge
—it left an aftermath
of damage.

What does this mean?

Simply…YOU create your
own path.

One never ‘leaves’ the path…
life’s lessons have opened
doorways and NEW doorways
as a result of a whirlwind
of changes throwing ‘everything’
out of proportion!

Mid-wife, are you here?
Naturally, you always are.

You’re the voice
reminding me
of the loving place the womb IS!
Inside…we’re warm, held,
comforted, nourished…unconscious of
time, the months developing, stretching,
forming and growing

UNTIL

the space NO longer conducive to dwell.
Does every fiber of life hold out until
those final moments and, like a
storm, break through the gorge of
the uterus delivering life—
a new opportunity to expand
and encounter the path that
AWAITS?

This day, a new path before us.

Conscious, mindful, and aware of
the unknown, we step
filled with gratitude.

There are guides keeping watch over us
—they have been with us
all along.

So Grateful.

July 18^th, 2022

“Every moment in our life is a new
departure, an end and a beginning,
a joining of the threads and a
parting.”

                                            Yehudi Menuhin                    
                                                    (1916-1999)

Very fine threads
have placed themselves
on the path trod each day.
The threads have also been
encountered in a variety of
colors.

A look back
—what a carpet ride it has been.
Yes, a magical carpet ride
with today and tomorrow
extending their finest
strands.

Already, I can feel pieces of
SELF becoming frayed…
—my steps move with ease
—my limbs strong and agile.
My eyes hold the
dazzlement and wonder
in and through everything
AND
the Soul
still mindful that this doorway
is drawing to a close.
I will not have a reservation or
hesitation to lift the latch
a final time and close this
chapter of a life, my life’s
Never-ending story.

I know tears shall spill into the
lake, the final place of rest
from which I depart.

This pilgrimage holds many encounters,
reflections that shall return me home.
Lessons will reveal themselves.
Choices made will give way
to how my ‘senses’
—such faithful guides
took me across a countryside
traveling like the rising sun each day
lifting this body in the East
and stepping West to each day’s
setting.

Thank you

Amen

 

Switzerland 2022

Dearest Mid-wife,

I greet you with warmth, kindness,
tender affection and ALWAYS gratitude.
When first my pen touched these pages,
‘YOU were.’
Lines ‘mentioned’ your presence.
You were the ‘ink’ flowing from the
tool allowing consonants and vowels
to open doorways.

As each day rose like the sun,
it closed with the stars.
I did not specify You in
a literal sense, and still,
‘YOU were.’
Weeks have passed.
I write this piece for YOU.

The journey westward is moving away from
the high passes
—movement into the meadows and
valleys lay ahead.

Wildflowers, clanging cow bells,
and dancing butterflies
ruffling the fur coats of marmots,
bathe in the light of new dawnings.
Some-thing NEW has begun
in me!  What does this mean?

Honestly, I cannot say
what I have witnessed!

My ‘soles’ allowed me
to cross over the terrain.

Evergreens…the towering pines
reaching skyward nestled below
the mountains that dwell in
the sky.
That glorious dome above my head
—how the blue sky filled with
cotton ball clouds creates patterns on
the ground and ignites the vibrancy
of color stretching on and on.
When the purple shades of dusk
appear and shadows bring out
the watchers of night,
I have sat waiting, watching for
that first star.

Mid-wife I thank you that
‘YOU are.’

 

To what might I liken this pilgrimage?
The immediate ‘image’ coming to
mind is a playground.

Why, might you ask?

Well, let’s first play on a slide.
Before the SWOOSH down,
there is the climb—
one step followed by another.
At times, both feet step on the
same landing…
other times it’s left foot first,
right foot ascending past the left.
The climb is filled with effort.
One holds the sides or, better yet,
‘poles’ to keep a ‘balance.’
The views from the TOP
have taken away my breath
time and again.
The ‘slide’ down…slow and steady.
Before you know it, you’ve
reached the bottom and you are sitting
in a bed of wildflowers.

The second adventure in the playground
…the swing.
For countless moments, I have felt as if
my feet never touched the ground.
Soft breezes pushed me forward.
I lifted my arms soaring with the hawks
overhead.
When my feet finally touched the gravel
path, I lurched toward the ropes.

The third playful item on these ‘grounds’…ropes!
On the ropes you never feel,
‘I have this!’
Each step, exactly where it is meant
to be AND each step filled with
purpose and hidden anticipation.

This playground…a pilgrimage.
When it ends,
then it truly will have begun.

 

Switzerland 2022

July 15^th, 2022

29 peaks…

Stood together
and vastly apart.
Many held thousands upon thousands
of feet of snowpack.
From a distance beyond measure,
the rushing of a waterfall
followed by another
found a way into a river
moving with speeds almost as great as sound.
Many peaks revealed their sharp,
distinct natures.
EVERY one of the mountains held
the sun, the moon, and stars.  They
held the clouds sometimes ‘lifting’
their inner cages that set free
the birds filling the skies with
hovering angels.

29 Peaks
each climbing above 4,000 meters.
They have NO fitted gear to rise.
So, tell me…
WHO formed You?
Wait right there…Please!
I know there are scientific
meanings and theories revealing
the coming together of endless
elements.
I listen and have limited sense of
knowing all these recordings, facts, data
and measured time
AND

I know there are doorways of theological
truths, mystical revelations, transformational
encounters.
Scrolls have been written
hid-den in caves…
dates, times written on page after page
after page
a vast array of testaments

AND

the 29 Peaks stand
before ‘time.’
THEY are the Gospels that need no
Interpretations.
Standing, rising they move.  Oh, they MOVE.
They are NOT changed by explanations.
THEY need NO acceptance, fanfare
or awards for being.
THEY do NOT speak in words
instructing ‘anyone’ or ‘anything’
on how you, too, can arrive.
THEY ask NO fees
to support their daily
livelihood.
So, WHO formed YOU?

If you gave the secret out,
I’m already beginning to hear
the vast array of diverse opinions.

Standing within THIS community
of 29 peaks,
a silence speaks—
a HARMONY exists
before existence even began.

WHO formed YOU?
Who am I?
It is a distance to reach the
vertical climb of over 4,000 meters.

Sharing the same ‘ground’
…Thank you, Wondrous Earth.
I’m going to keep walking.