ing

feeling a little scared that maybe my little stars did not make it

wondering about what is happening in there, wishing I could feel it happening, feel it working

knowing there is no way to know, not now, not yet

reveling in being a little more calm and centered for whatever magical combination of reasons

hoping that I can stay calm no matter what the outcome, that this will work, and if it does not, that it will not break me

dreaming about week after next, a week off from work, a week of art and writing and tea and being outside and breathing and living at the pace of my own making

finding myself finding myself over and over, oh! I say, there I am! and that feels pretty darn good each and every time, like finding a beach stone in your pocket that you picked up warm from the sun, that is now warm from your body. You forget, go looking for keys or change, and then, your fingers find warm worn smooth. It is not so much that it was lost, just unattended to.

being-- yeah, this one is both the most effortless and the most effort-full, be-ing. So hard for someone so used to the do-ing.


An owl was perched on a dead branch on a high tree at the edge of our clearing this morning. I watched it watch dragonflies.