good god its morning / good morning god. -a matter of perspective.


After a substantial amount of rain, after many attempts to bank and trench the stream, after road closures and small slides at our house we got off lightly. Not true for many in the community and my heart goes out to those who lost much. What a mixed weekend this was.

I am going to skip straight through to Sunday because it was the best kind of day. The sun was shining when we woke, the osprey circled overhead as I walked out to the burgeoning green. The horse chestnut leaves are opening like a clasped hand released. Letting go of the tightness and tension of outgrowing space and making breathing room. The larch is feathery brilliance, the first green is gold.IMGP5087

Spring is so much about hope, renewal and fresh starts. I love having a spring birthday because that means I get to make my new years resolutions all over again. There is a happy feeling of possibility.  It’s true, you can do it anytime so go ahead and borrow my spring birthday to make your own new list.

Sunday we shared a birthday celebration for Riley (who is 9), my heart swells as he slips his hand in mine to walk me across the parking lot and into McDonald’s for lunch.  The disjointed calamity of multiple conversations flood around me, family over-speak, laughter, a comfortable chaotic interchange. Time is sweet and rich in the company of childhood, perhaps in part because like spring it is fleeting and in our awareness of its time limit all the more precious. With that in mind, I have some advice to offer –


There are pockets of day in the spring where light is just simply irresistible – when possible trade this for nothing you cannot live without. Find an old chair, one that wraps around you like an embrace, best when warmed by sun, and sit a spell. Studies show this is to be a value just in case you were unable to get there on your own.


Be mindful of the community. Life is ever shifting, changing, balancing and dancing on a spiraling continuum at a dizzying pace. For a time in my early childhood I lived in a big city. I vividly remember being in the backseat of the car with my face leaning against the window as rain fell and lights reflected from the passing stream of cars. I would start by imagining one story, and then recognizing that every car had a person or more with their own story, every house light had things happening central to their cast of  characters. My head literally hurt with the largeness of the concept. Over time I learned to reverse that to the simple but important reaity, every story matters.


It is simply a matter of perspective. Spiral up, funnel down. Vast and infinite, or a pinpoint of focus. Life is, spring reminds us about change, growth, abandon of old perimeters, and if that isn’t a joyful sound I guess I should commission a study.

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