Cackling Witches

The fog rising from the ocean this morning was so dense allowing no glimpses of the water below. It was beautiful in its white softness. Feeling the surprisingly warm moss beneath my bare feet I was so glad to be high up on the bluff, able to see far into the distance where the majestic coastal mountain peaks were clearly visible. In fact the whiteness of the fog cover brought them even more into focus. It is amazing how a sunny spring morning can lift the spirit. Lately I’ve been feeling like I am in a deep fog trying to find my way and then just like that, something shifts and the fog lifts, maybe just for a moment or a day, or if lucky it will be gone for a while.

Spring is not only in the air. It has arrived. Sitting with my computer outside on my deck for the first time this year I can’t express how much I enjoy the sunshine, the freshness of the air and the chimes singing softly in the background. Earlier I noticed the bright smiling daffodils in full bloom and the raspberry bushes budding with their first green leaves in the garden. I just had to pause over and over again noticing which plants where starting to awaken.

The little angel card for today felt very fitting: “Celebration” and the bright yellow blooms in the garden seem to confirm that. As I am typing a sudden strange sound like an old fashioned clock ticking loudly captures my attention. I put my ear to my computer and then my camera to see if they are making this ticking sound, but to my surprise my gaze is drawn to a nearby arbutus tree where the noise appears to be coming from. It turns out that there are two dried up dead leaves clapping together in the gentle breeze. I guess they are agreeing that spring is a time to celebrate. New life and perhaps the possibility of new beginnings are offering themselves in this yearly magical spectacle. With Pluto shifting into the sign of Aquarius this week, I sense there will be many new important developments coming in the next years and that it is important to keep our eyes wide open and make conscious choices of what kind of world we want to create for the next generations.

The clear view this morning brought hope and trust in the natural unfolding as did my time on Mayne Island visiting my son Trygve last week. I had brought my little foldable rigid heddle loom and some wool with me as I had just gotten back into weaving. My son was away on the first night when I arrived. So I took the opportunity to put the warp thread on the loom. After figuring out a perfect set up for this in the tiny home I soon was engrossed in the task. All of sudden I heard an owl hoot not far away. Then there was more hooting and soon I wasn’t sure anymore if it was one owl or two. The hooting turned into a strange cackling sound. It made me laugh when the eery sound brought back memories of my older sister reading the fairy tale Hansel and Gretel one night and the silhouette of the large rubber plant standing outside the open bedroom door sure looked like a witch to me. The funny thing is once I saw it, I couldn’t un-see it. The memory of it was so clear in my mind as I listened to the owls and warped the loom. So I decided to call the piece that I was making “Cackling Witches”.

It is astounding that the things I weave often have a title or name that comes either before I start or at the beginning of the project. It comes through very clearly and it almost feels like the piece is weaving itself. Weaving this one has been great fun. The cackling witches encouraged me let go of the structured ideas of the mind and invited me over and over again to allow the magic to unfold and be bold. Being there with my son made the process even sweeter. His interest and engagement added to the joy and on top of that we found a whole bunch of yarn in the Thrift Store which felt like the icing on the cake. I am afraid his tiny home became a weaving studio with yarn spread out everywhere, but thankfully he didn’t seem mind. To my delight when I told him about the owls and the name they inspired he laughed and said he had heard them. Puzzled I asked him how that is possible when he was off island. He got out his phone and played the sound. A neighbour had recorded some of it and posted it on Facebook.

And so life goes: up and down. One moment full of joy and creativity, the next I find myself maneuvering another challenge or opportunity, however I want to look at it. I sure have felt the intensity of the Equinox and Aries New Moon and I know many others around me have as well. It does feel like a beginning point of something new. What that actually means to me and my life or to us as a collective will no doubt be revealed in time. In the meantime I will keep reminding myself to trust in the unfolding and the magic and to stay as much as I can in my heart and in the now.

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The Holy Yes

Today as I sat by the ocean listening to the gentle crashing of the waves I pondered about writing a new post for my blog. Having encountered one barrier after another since my last post, announcing that I was moving everything from WordPress.com over to my website on WordPress.org, I have felt suspended in mid air, not able to make a move or complete any writings.

Asking myself once again what the purpose or the essence of my blog is, two words bubbled up into my consciousness: ”Nature and Now”. Recognizing immediately that this is what motivates me as well as satisfies many of my passions: writing, photography, presence, being in nature and awakening to our true nature – clarity rang like a bell in the silence and words started pouring out just like the water the waves were bringing in.

It didn’t take long for the writing to be done, finding the pictures I wanted to share with it and then letting it marinate overnight. The next day I sat down eagerly to put the finishing touches on, thinking it would take less than an hour before it was ready to go out into the world. Well, that is not how it turned out. I spent hours editing and every time I tried to save the whole post the computer froze. I did this over and over again until I had to let go.

Instead I went to a chanting event and afterwards drove to the ocean and waited for the dark. Stars began to shimmer in the sky and finally the moment came when I walked into the ocean and swam in the bioluminescence. It was the most enchanting experience I have ever had. The night before I went with three beautiful women and it was truly magical. But being there alone in the water watching light being created by the movement of my body in the silence and darkness is beyond words. The water was warm as I swam naked under the stars. Seeing my whole body lit up and creating light with every little or big movement I have never experienced this kind of enchantment with my own body before. It felt both so personal and transpersonal at the same time. While watching the light move like arrows of light when a fish moved below me I recognized how we all are truly beings of light. It is not just a catchy new age phrase.

Nature is important to me. It nourishes me on every level. It reminds me daily that I am not just a part of it but shows me my own true nature. It gives me so many gifts and teaches me about life and death, light and darkness, rhythms and seasons and the relating of everything to everything. We are never separate from any of it.

When fear or sadness around the state of the world and loss of nature grips me I often choose to come back into the here and now, observing what is actually here on the inside and outside: my thoughts and feelings, the story I create from these thoughts, the little fawn that is walking by my window as I am writing this. (No kidding this is actually happening right now.) This is not to escape the reality of wars, Covid, environmental emergencies, heartbreaks in every corner of the world, but to help me come back to basic trust. As A.H.Almaas says so beautifully in his book Facets of Unity: “Basic trust gives us the capacity to surrender, the capacity to let go, the capacity to jump into the unknown.” It lets me return to the goodness of true nature and this is where my trust originates from.

Coming back to the Now never fails to open my heart if I let myself truly contact what is here and allow myself to receive the gift of this moment. I do not want to miss the blossom that has opened today or notice the mystery of the strange irregular sound of the hummingbird flying to my feeder every evening this week. Nor do I want to miss saying Goodbye to a loved one when the times comes or the feel of the computer keys beneath my finger tips as my hands move like dancing light.

Of course I had to run outside and take a picture of the little fawn. It blended in so well that it took me a while to spot it, plus I was carefully looking around for signs of her mother. Mother deer can be quite protective and so it should be. What a sweet gift to receive as I am writing this and such perfect timing!

This spring I was delighted to find a robin’s nest with three beautiful blue eggs right by my front deck. Being so close to the cabin made it a bit difficult to move around normally. Not wanting to disturb the nesting mother I found a different place to hang up my laundry for a while and go through the cabin to get to other side of the deck. Standing on my futon I could look down into the bush where the nest was well hidden and checked every morning to see if the robin was still sitting on her eggs.

Since the little birds that usually nest above my bedroom window did not return this year, this new development made me very happy. I am sure last year’s long and extreme heatwave had something to do with the pair choosing not to nest under the tin roof again.

Then the sweet moment arrived when three baby birds hatched. Surely you can imagine my joy. It didn’t take long for me to notice my attachment and hope that these beautiful little ones would make it to adulthood. Very quickly I also saw how challenging that actually is.

A hawk came by regularly plucking other babies from nests nearby with the distressed parents doing their best, but really having no chance at all. The father robin disappeared early on before the little ones were even hatched. I am not sure if that is normal for robins, but it seemed like the mother bird was the only one working very hard to feed her three hungry ones.

One early morning peeking through the window I noticed she was not on the nest as usual. It didn’t take long for me to begin to worry and imagine the worst, wondering how I would keep the baby birds alive and thriving. I was grateful to see her return later on. Only a few days later two of her babies disappeared, leaving only one little plump young bird with new emerging feathers sitting on the edge of the nest looking a little forlorn. Checking beneath the bush and the deck I saw no sign of the others. When I returned that evening the last robin baby was gone as well. For a few days I held onto the hope that perhaps it had hopped down to the ground and Mama bird was still feeding it somewhere. But there was no evidence of that. So basic trust invited me once again to open to the wholeness of the unfolding. 

Today I received the last piece of the puzzle that hadn’t allowed me to finish this writing before. It was the “holy Yes” that arose in me in a dyad (a form of contemplation with a partner) this morning. Just like I can’t put into words the experience of swimming in an ocean of light, I cannot really explain the immensity of that Yes, but it included everything way beyond the comprehension of the mind. I feel the completeness and wholeness of that Yes inside of me and I knew it needed to be included in this writing as it permeates everything.

Come Suddenly To The Ground

Crossing the threshold into Fall my curious mind takes me on a journey exploring the origin of the word “fall”. Growing up in Germany I fell in love with the English language in my first lesson in Grade 5. It was instant and it has never left.

Reading through the different definitions of the word, both noun and verb, I come to a halt when I read “come suddenly to the ground“. It feels more like an instruction. Often when I am out in nature especially when I bring my camera along, sooner or later I drop to the ground to closely inspect what is capturing my attention. Lying with my belly and chest pressed to the earth the world looks different up close, clearer and always showing me something new or opening up a different perspective. This dropping to the ground is never planned, it just happens. I imagine creativity just moves me.

I look outside for signs of autumn and wish I was outdoors right now. There are no leaves floating gently to the ground. The Arbutus trees that surround me let go of their leaves in the summer, which is always so perplexing to see yellow leaves gliding through the air and covering the path thick with leaves in the midst of summer.

Yet Fall is undeniably here. Many of the birds are already gone and most flowers are done their blooming. I am delighted to see the little hummingbird sitting on the dead branches near the feeder every morning, wondering if it is the same one that kept me company all winter last year. The squirrel is another being that is here to stay while deer come and go and are rarely seen right now.

I welcome the cooler temperatures and changing weather and trust in the cycles of nature even in the craziness of our current world. I know that nature will continue to ground me and invite me to let go so that change can come from the inside out. My heart keeps me steady on course.

Yesterday I thought of Viktor Frankl, who survived years in the concentration camps and wrote the amazing book “Man’s Search For Meaning“. I wish to end this post with a quote from his book that confirmed what my heart already knows:

“For the first time in my life I saw the truth as it is set into song by so many poets, proclaimed as the final wisdom by so many thinkers. The truth – that Love is the ultimate and highest goal to which man can aspire. Then I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love and in love.” 

― Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning

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Many blessings on this Fall Equinox!

Summer Bliss

Feeling the shock in my solar plexus of loosing everything that I just wrote I sit and stare at the empty screen. It is kind of funny to be noticing my own disbelief, the sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach as I press the UNDO button over and over again while hearing in my head: “What have I done?” .

Two hummingbirds come and hover around my head, one on each side. Maybe they are trying to balance my brain. I smile at the thought. Or perhaps they have come to comfort me, which is rather unlikely. But I do like the idea. They sure take my mind of what is no more and instead I breathe in the sweet summer air and enjoy the gentle buzzing as the little helicopter birds check out the colourful clothing hanging on the line. I strung up a long cord between the trees and it feels like I am sitting in a room with walls made of towels, bedding and clothing.

June’s unexpected heat wave brought back something that I didn’t know I had been missing. In my youth I would spend many days and hours just reading novels. Riding my bike to the beach or pool on those long hot summer days you would always find at least one book in my bag. Alternating between swimming and lying at the beach reading, life was full of simple pleasures and endless reading. The epic classics like War and Peace, Doctor Zhivago, Anna Karenina, Beyond Sing The Woods and many others opened my heart and mind to different worlds, different world views and of course the human journey in a story created by brilliant diverse writers.

With no escaping the incredible heat other than dipping into the lake or ocean I found myself with very little energy or motivation to even move in the last week of June. So I picked up a novel from the library and found myself reading for hours and hours till deep into the night not wanting to break the spell of the story. A visit to one of my neighbours who shares the love of reading resulted in bringing back a little more treasures. Just holding these books in my hands and turning the pages brought pleasure. It almost felt like I was slowly remembering an old part of me. How sweet it felt to drop the to-do list and instead read to my heart’s content for just the pure pleasure of it.

Sleeping outside most nights brought more magic. Drifting in and out of sleep only to see the sparkling sky every time I opened my eyes, while hearing the whales’ deep breathing and watching Grandmother Moon travel across the sky were also unexpected gifts. And one night the wind came and cooled me like no fan could. Finally I slept so deep I didn’t wake up till the sun was already high in the sky hidden behind clouds.

The cooler temperatures however brought an army of wasps. These great warriors do not let the hummingbirds return to their feeder and have chased me from the deck as well. I have moved my lounge chair and found a different spot to hang out and enjoy these beautiful summer days. Feeling deeply content with simple pleasures like dreaming up new variations of ice tea, finding more novels to order through the library or reading a good poem or two I pause to take in all this beauty.

I hope you are able to fully enjoy this summer and perhaps remember something that makes your heart sing. Sometimes just the memory is enough and other times we may dip our toes back into what we used to love.

And speaking of good poems, here is one that came to me this morning as I sat in the early morning light out on the bluff. I opened a book randomly and this was the poem that greeted me:

Rice

It grew in the black mud.

It grew under the tiger’s orange paws.

Its stems thinner than candles, and as straight.

Its leaves like the feathers of egrets, but green.

The grains cresting, wanting to burst.

Oh, blood of the tiger.

I don’t want you just to sit down at the table.

I don’t want you just to eat, and be content.

I want you to walk out into the fields

where the water is shining, and the rice has risen.

I want you to stand there, far from the white tablecloth.

I want you to fill your hands with the mud, like a blessing.

~ by Mary Oliver (from her book “Devotions”)

And off to the garden I go….

Entering The Night

Settling on my blanket on the bluff last evening I felt so glad that I had packed up my basket with the usual: my camera, wool shawl, journal, pen and glasses. The setting sun was painting the clouds in broad strokes of orange hues. A mountain peak or two were still lit up as I felt the movement of the ocean moving me in some unfathomable way.

It felt heavenly to sit on the earth with solid rock and soft moss beneath me. Having listened to some brilliant story tellers just before I was called outside, their stories, their words, the mystery contained in them, was still alive in me and moving through me in this present moment. My heart was tuning in.

Slowing down to the speed of now I watched my hand move the pen across the page while listening to the birds settling in the last glow of light. Their voices becoming fainter, less frequent, quieting one at a time, until only the sound of the ocean and wind remained.

My body’s need to stretch in the much cooler air made me shift and something outlined in a tree in the distance caught my attention. The camera revealed the shape of a bald eagle also settling in for the night. He must have been there all along, silently witnessing the ending of the day from his perch. It suddenly dawned on me that this is probably the same eagle in the same tree that surprised me a few weeks ago while I was looking at a beautiful new house being built not far from me. As I was admiring the new creation something suddenly had made me look up in the tree beside me. Yes, something in me just knew that this was the same eagle.

As the first stars appeared in the darkening sky I appreciated his presence. It was lovely to share entering the night with him.

A Deeper Belonging

Deciding to set up my office outside today hummingbird zooms by a couple of times insisting it is time for me to hang up the feeder to welcome it home. As I prepare its “welcome home” feast I also feel called to smudge before I sit down in my less than elegant but totally enjoyable writing space. Watching the spiralling smoke as I set the smudge bowl onto the altar, I am surprised to see the restless patterns dance into the room. Mesmerized I am drawn into its wild dance wondering about the energy it is releasing.

Finally sitting down again outside I can reflect upon the letting go of the grief and pent up emotions over the changes and experiences in my life over the last several weeks. Raven glides overhead, the swishing sound of its wings feels strangely connected to the energy of releasing. Taking a deep breath I also tune into the sound of the chimes moving softly. Its song is surprisingly gentle and comforting.

There have been many uplifting gifts lately which I received gratefully as maneuvering through these strange times has not been easy. Deeply longing to just retreat from the world and become still, life had other plans for me and didn’t let me of the hook. I write this with a smile, because I recognize the opportunity of growth as I slowly break through my resistance, exhaustion and sadness around the unfolding of events not just in the world but here on our little island.

These two very special beings, Omar and Raven, from White Horse Sanctuary (https://whitehorsesanctuary.com/) have been helping me stay sane and are such incredible teachers bringing me back into presence and oneness as well as finding the source of self-assurance and what that actually means to me. They unfalteringly show me when I am not present and make me laugh. It is so good to laugh and delight in the many gifts of spring including the opportunity of gardening.

Last night’s gift was incredibly special. Perhaps you received it as well. Watching the light slowly fade after sunset and a pink glow appear in the sky announcing the arrival of the Full Moon, nothing prepared me for the sight as she crested the coastal mountains bringing me to tears with her golden beauty. Thoughts, emotions, everything vanished in this moment of witnessing something I don’t even want to try to put into a box of words.

Sitting in timelessness everything just fell away. The cold wind felt like a kiss of awakening blowing away any sadness or anger, taking me into a stillness and fullness that perhaps the picture of the moon can convey just a little. Many hours later making my way slowly back down to my cabin with the light of the moon illuminating the way home, I was filled with so much gratitude and joy and a sense of a deeper belonging. It is still with me now as I write these words and hummingbird takes its first deep drink of the season before it buzzes away again.

This morning after the best sleep I had in years the first light was pulling me from my dreams. Rushing back up to the bluff wrapped in a blanket the rays of the new day brought more tears of wonder and deep appreciation.

The recognition of how truly blessed and loved I am took my breath away. And as the light of the sun warmth me on this beautiful but still cool day of spring I am reminded once again of a truth that felt so distant in recent times: Love connects us all.

“May the one heart shine brightly in each of us like the golden light of the sun and moon and may tenderness replace judgement, fear and separation. May we be kind to ourselves, to each other and all beings. And may we receive the teachings and blessings of this time with graciousness, openness and patience.” ~ Elke

First Day

Wet green moss beckons

as she steps barefoot into the New Year

Out of time into the warmth of Now

Love illuminates the barks, mosses and leaves

while stag moves slowly 

towards her unmoving presence

Golden Elephant breaks through

the last clouds in her heart

offering her the universe in one drop

Laughter bubbles to the surface

inviting one numb foot after the other

into the welcoming womb of unexpected bliss

Sailing away into the misty moment

she lets the seaweed caress her skin

on this first day

Happy New Year, everyone!

Beyond Duality

Looking at the sky early this morning while standing out on the bluff I wondered what the day would be like. The sky looked like it had a hard time making up its mind. The clear division of sunshine on one side and dark heavy clouds on the other made me laugh reminding me no matter what, that I have choice through which lens I want to see the world and meet what life brings me.

As it turned out it was a mixed bag all day, quickly changing from sunny to cloudy… back and forth. However the flowers on my deck still wet from the gentle rain last night and shining vibrantly despite the cloudiness were calling me to take a picture of them. Perhaps it was the greyness of the moment that made their beauty even more pronounced.

I love taking pictures after a rainfall. Each glistening drop sparkling, containing and reflecting the mystery of life to all who care to take a closer look, just as each flower speaks to us of a beauty far deeper than what can be seen by the eye. Perhaps that is why gardening is so deeply satisfying as it allows us to enter and commune with both the very tactile grounded earthiness and the mystery contained in each seed planted. I do not have a garden here as I literally live on a rock, but the planters on my deck filled with herbs, greens and a few flowers gift me with the joy of being connected with the cycle of life and feed me in so many ways.

As the summer is deepening I allow myself to slow down and take in the gifts of the season… it’s scents, colours and delights. The Humpback whales have been hanging out nearby and I can’t describe how deeply it moves me to hear them breathe and speak to each other and perhaps even speaking to me and my friend as we sat under the starry night listening and watching stars fly through the sky. Neither of us had ever heard whales speak. Such incredible magic!

Yesterday the whales were slapping their fins and breaching for a long while. What a magnificent sight that is! It made me long for a better camera, as I kept missing those perfect moments. However I know I did not really miss anything as I allowed myself to take in the joy and exuberance that was being offered with my whole being.

I feel so blessed to have a place to call home and not just any place, but such a special one. And I get to share this gem with others who find their way here for a session or come for a cup of tea and hang out in the magic with me. Each moment is so precious and I love the gentle relaxation after a crazy busy spring, just being, still healing and enjoying this incredible beauty, the abundance all around me and the many fun and heart connecting community gatherings.

Yet just as sunshine and dark clouds meet in the sky and the whales dive again deep into the depths of the ocean I am aware of the duality we live in, which contains it all: birth, life, death, joy and grief… and the pearl that can be found in all of it: the love which takes us beyond duality.

Remembering Abundance

Lying in bed this morning with no motivation to get up, I heard a quiet voice inside whisper: “What is here is enough….it is more than enough. It is true abundance!”

This got me out of bed in an instance, wanting to write it down as it struck such a deep cord inside. The day before I drew an angel card as I often do, receiving the Angel of Abundance. It made no sense to me in that moment and couldn’t relate to it at all, feeling not well from the after effects of a tick bite, infection in my body and the antibiotic treatment I received that morning.

Now, however, it didn’t only make sense in my head, but I remembered with my whole Being what it meant and knew that I can trust in the perfection of what it is here…and as I watch the squirrel make its way to the bluff, I feel the invitation to follow it and allow my body to be gently moved.

Wishing you all a beauty filled day with so much love!

Circling Around The Heart

As I sat down at my little table the other morning facing the still white fields with the intention to write, a movement outside caught my attention: high in the sky birds were circling… and so many of them.

Rushing outside with my camera the birds were now even higher in sky and further north and looked like tiny moving dots. Their white tail feathers flashing in the sun revealed that these were bald eagles gliding upwards in a thermal. There must have been thirty or forty or more.

Running back inside to get my binoculars wanting to have a closer look, they all disappeared behind the clouds by the time I returned.

Standing on the melting snow and taking in the beauty of the day the birds were singing a happy melody reminding me of Spring, when suddenly four eagles reappeared performing their dance in the sky. Mr. Kitty also joined in, circling around my feet as the eagles were drawing spirals in the sky.

Thinking of the beautiful heart cloud that presented itself just before Valentine’s, a gift of Love appearing out of nowhere, I see how my mind likes to put every experience I have into neat compartments of “like” or “don’t like“. The heart cloud filled me with joy, while watching a seagull kill a little duck was heart wrenching to say the least, while an eagle was keeping a close eye on Mr. Kitty who had followed me down to the beach. I decided to stay and protect the cat rather then try to rescue the duck. It was a very weird moment recognizing that we are all predators and prey and that attaching any kind of label seems rather pointless.

This morning waking up from a dream with my heart pounding, I was glad to see the golden light of the new born sun shining on my pillow. Taking a deep breath and releasing the feeling of sorrow that I took with me from my dream in which I had met up with my golden companion Frodo, I jumped out of bed with excitement, feeling happy to be alive and have a day off on such a beautiful day.

The dancing light on the ocean was not to be missed and it didn’t take long before I made my way to the beach rejoicing in the pattern the freezing cold night had painted on the pond and the one single leaf left on the tree made me pause in wonder.

Discovering more delights on the beach, but also noticing the contrast between the pine tree so ladened with seeds announcing new birth while its branches are hanging low over dead logs littered all over the beach for as far as you can see. Trees that were cut down for a reason, but that never made it to their destination or intended use. Maybe not everything has to make sense like the seagull killing the little duck and then just flying away or so many trees ending up on our beaches never used for anything. Perhaps it is in the noticing and being with what life and death are offering that changes the lens through which we see the world. Certainly some experiences change us forever almost instantly and others, perhaps like the rocks being polished by the sea, take a long time to round out the sharp edges and letting in new awarenesses.

I’ve been loving the gift of winter that February has brought us here on the island with so many magical moments, but also the reminder of stillness and death. Yet I can almost feel spring waiting in its wings, ready for it’s turn to offer us its beauty and unique expression. I am looking forward to the changing of the season, ready for the new greens and buds bringing in new life.

Nature has so much to show and teach me and being in the moment is one of the greatest lessons I am learning. And in this moment the sunshine outside is encouraging me to get on my bike and give my body some much needed exercise, even if my mind needs a little more convincing.