Tales From The Labyrinth

Cascade of Roses...

Sometimes...

There are no words...
Only cascades of rose petals...

buds opening...

bursting into life...

a fountain of beauty...

sighing into the round
of a posy...

a gift for the mother,
I so love...

Photos: Cecil Bruener Roses in our garden...

A Door in Time

One step,
This threshold crossed...
this place of opening
into memories
long forgotten,
brushed away with time,
the key
lost in folds of lush silk,
pressed deeply
into my heart
where I listen for footsteps
and remember...
Finding the
place of opening
I step through
and time no longer matters,
only the beat of desire
coming to life
in the cradle of the midnight sky,
as the sun marks,
over and over,
these passages in time taken,
finding the heart's desire
in this moment of
opening a door long closed...

Photo: A door in the village of Lacoste. A tumble of stone and wood being reborn beneath the shadow of the ruins of the castle of the Marquis de Sade, Provence, France, October 2007.

For other keys to other doors, please visit our hosts, Elizabeth of "The House in Marrakesh" and Frank of "My Paint Box."

Blossoms & My Mother

Mom...

These blossoms are for you...
on this gray, gray day...

Captured when a bit of blue slipped from the sky
in showers of liquid sunshine...

Ice melting... like the day the Ice Queen heard
the sound she'd long forgotten...
The giggles and laughter of a baby...

deep within the green, green, moist forest...

celebrating the blossoming of spring and magic returned...
and celebrating you...

yes...
celebrating all that you are...
and the wonder and beauty you have gifted us with...

Happy Birth Day Mom!
May all your blossoming wishes come true!!!

Celebrating my mom's birth~day
and the sculpture gift from all of us to her
created by the oh so talented artist Stephanie Blythe!

Cyber Hands

On a day of no sun...
gray clouds dust the air,
thick with rain...
and rainbows stir from other hands,
reaching across cyberspace
touching,
illuminating,
creating,
breathing life
into
the smallest of gestures,
"inspiratrice"
says the be-ing of eb...

Cyber hands and "illuminated photo"
inspired by eb, Stephanie, & LK ...

This Duet

I am myself,
moving
ever towards
the center
that is right here...
Time
envelopes us...
away,
together,
the way your hands move,
haunts my heart
and finds movement in my feet...
The shape of
your tears
find the river of my soul
and we are this room,
these duets
of love
in all stages of leaving
and coming together
for the last time
in this breath of beginning
again
and again...
This pearl in the palm of my hand
is our dance,
luminous light
found in the irritation
of being human,
this joy
of matter
opening
into the infinite
space of our bodies,
this duet
of love...

Photo: Pearl found this morning on the hardwood floor at Soul Motion Body Prayer, during the "last dance" with my partner...

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

May love
bloom,
and touch your heart...

Happy Valentines Day!!!

Photo: Amaryllis blooming in the heart of our home; paper cigar gift for my husband with antique cigar band from "Theatre of Dreams."

The Ice Queen & The Bloglandia Polar Festival

Once...
there was an Ice Queen...

Long, long ago
in the silver of the night moon,
she lost her heart
and a sliver of ice nested into the empty space...

and hardened
and grew...

and became colder and colder,
as all the world
went to sleep
beneath a blanket of snow and ice...

Long was her reign
of loneliness...

No sleep,
no waking,
no laughing nor dreaming,
for she had forgotten
all things green,
soft,
and lovely...

Then,
one day,
not so long ago...
The ice queen noticed
that the sky was a different shade of blue,
no longer just indigo,
but shades of cerulean, azure,
and a deepening periwinkle...

And in that moment...
The Ice Queen heard a sound
that she had long forgotten...
The giggles and laughter of a baby,
And she turned towards
this music and the ice in her heart melted

as did her crown of ice...

as she raised her arms in delight...

of all things radiant...
found only in shadows...

And the heavens reached down to the earth
and clothed her in rich fabrics and furs,
for her skin could finally feel the cold of winter...

and for the first time,
in ever so long,
this woman of oh so many experiences,
stepped back into life...

Leaving footprints of spring flowers
in her every step she took...

Photos: Doll, original, vintage Barbie from my childhood collection~ Clothing, hand-made by my maternal grandmother over forty years ago~ Violets and Narcissus from our garden.

Bloglandia Polar Festival Hosted by our beloved Elizabeth Bunsen/eb ~ Be~Dream~Play. Please visit her site for more links to other Snow Queens, Party Animals, Polar Parade and blogs of wonder!!!

Salamander

In between
sheets
of rain falling
steadily...
Light streams
translucent
flames...
Fire creature
stirring myth and alchemy...

I follow
this path you lead
into time
stopping,
as you wind into
tree ancient...

No longer
flesh and bones,
two-legged returned to four,
mystery
emerging back into primordial
beginnings...
History unraveled,
with new threads
to weave again,
and again
in movement
oh so slow,
a master in disguise...

Photo: Salamander found in our front yard, between rains...

"Over The Horizon & Earth" ~ Writers Island

Over The Horizon...

When I was in my early twenties...
I had the opportunity
to fly to Europe on a private jet.
During the flight
the pilots invited me
to come and sit in the cockpit...
Even though I had flown many times before,
it was the first time I saw the Earth's horizon,
the rounded curvature of the Earth...
In that moment,
my world expanded
and what had not been possible to fathom before,
was there stretched out before me
in a beautiful arch and I was awed...
It reminds me of my desire for this New Year...
that my world,
this new horizon,
become bigger
and at the same time,
more simple...

Earth...

This ground,
this earth
holds me
like a mother
deep within her arms…
Like a father’s shoulders,
a mountain kissing
the sky…
This ground,
this earth,
holds me like a lover,
taking me places
I’ve never been
where the soft round curves
of my body
nestle into gravity
pulling me to the center of my heart
where I fall into myself
finding all things that matter
beneath my hands and feet
as my body melts into
divine motion,
a stillness profound,
a breathing
in and out
of being…
This ground,
this earth
is this moment of remembering…

© "Over The Horizon & Earth" ~ Writers Island

Photos: Earth orb, outside and inside
Earth Poem inspired by my Soul Motion dance practice

Ninth Holy Night 2007-2008 ~ Order & Chaos

It's pouring rain today...
the biggest storm of the year, they say,
to hit the West Coast of the Americas...

And day Nine was yesterday...
Order & Chaos...
So... I've had a bit of time to think about these two...

For quite some time after my first marriage and a very solid way of life ended for me in my late twenties, I clung to order like a person who can't swim out in the middle of a vast ocean holding on to a small plank of wood... I needed structure and order in all areas of my life... the slightest whiff of chaos could send me careening over what seemed to be the ocean turned into Niagara Falls... When I entered my forties, I flipped the other way... structure and order made me crazy, I felt as if I would burst from my skin and could not make a commitment to hardly anything...

As I near being on this planet for fifty years, I am finding a balance between order and chaos, and even question my concept of just what chaos might really be...

This was one of the tasks offered by Lynn...

She invited us to make a list of 25 verbs, place them on slips of paper, torn or cut (and to notice how we did those slips!) and place them in a bowl/chalice.

and then pull three and apply them to a routine in our lives... I realized as I did this task that other than sleeping, there are very few routines in my life! So, I changed it a bit. I pulled five verbs (on "torn" pieces of paper!) and will make a poem, right now out of words that seem to have no connection or order at all...

Flap my arms
Float
Turn around
Type
Laugh

This rain pours...
I flap my arms
as if I can fly
when instead I must float
allow myself to turn around
and let this wet,
wet river flowing carry me
even as I type...
and type...
and type as if these words were
a life raft,
I laugh
that I might think I could
hold on to any one of them...

Ninth Holy Night of Inner Christmas
with Lynn Jericho

Lynn's Blog on the Twelve Holy Nights of Inner Christmas