watch dog

And so the thought has occured to me recently... along with music and certainly people, our pets provide a metronome of sorts that helps us organize the chapters of our lives. For me it has been dogs.

Curly. Pearl. Rafer Olympiad Johnson. Doby. Muffin. Maya. Max. Maggie.

Just recalling the names takes me back to the days I shared under their watchful eyes. Each with their own personality, yet each consistent in their daily expectation of food, water, walks, and petting and their unconditional love for me.

New

Slowly the darkness begins to fade
A more powerful force is bursting on to the scene
And slowly yet confidently the light overwhelms

Even the air changes
A warmth fills the space where uncertainty just was
Any sadness from before is dismissed, if we allow

As a person this ritual can seem predictable
Another day to accumulate shadows and discord
One more step in the eternal march of time

And then I hear a joyous sound
Simple yet overwhelming in its celebration
The singing is loud and the new day is greeted with fanfare

Beside me the dogs rise and stretch in the warmth
The birds continue their joyous song
While I think of all that has come before
They simply marvel at the promise

A new day.

When Great Trees Fall - Maya Angelou

 
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.

When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.

Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly.  Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed.  They existed.
We can be.  Be and be
better.  For they existed.

Out Beyond Ideas

Creativity seems to be flooding my soul at the moment. This entire Destination Imagination run over the past few months has kept creative thinking at the forefront of my mind and has resulted in changes. I approach my work differently. I'm back in to music. It just seems that I'm considering alternative solutions and creative approaches. This is keeping me out of the rut of 'same ole same ole'. Shout out to the kids in my life for once again teaching me and showing me the way.