Saturday, October 29, 2011
are coming to your neighborhood. The signs are everywhere. It's now, when the moon is closest to the Earth, that many cultures believe lonely ghosts and departed ancestors hover around us, "All Hallows Eve," "The Day of the Dead" and "Feeding the Hungry ghosts" are celebrations to honor this time.
And so, if over the next week, you dress like a pumpkin, or play an eerie flute, or indulge in more than your share of dark chocolate, please be very, very creepy about it when you do--and let me remind you to be sure to have a blast. And oh, don't forget to leave an apple on the porch for dear old Grammy McAllister.
**See you again on the 20th of November :)
Thursday, October 20, 2011
It's 5:00 a.m. My bare windows read black sky. I've had too little sleep, yet some part of me is eager, like a deer in the forest ready to greet sunrise with an early morning drink at the lake.
I hate to slog a tired body through a bright and glistening day, but I simply can't get back to sleep. It's not wild expectation that fuels me. In fact, for all appearances, this particular Saturday looks dull -- nothing on my calendar but one blank square smack in the middle of October. Even so, I'm prompted to look outside at what surrounds me -- to view the changing colors of the leaves, and to watch the shifting shadows of autumn as they intersect summer's light.
On this one, small day, in these hours before dawn, I'm reminded of that substance that the Buddhists call "The Arising" --and as I contemplate this concept, I can almost hear the day breathing, its heartbeat pulsing somewhere beyond the horizon, pacing forward like a promise -- like a silent serenade.