On What We Build Our Lives. . .
The construction is still in process, but we are nesting! I am not sure it is Maudie, but surely a younger. No doubt word was given that if babies are on the agenda, ‘this place is one we know and trust. And they talk to you with real words, all of them do. They keep tabs on you and watch the watch as all of us wish.’
I was surprised to see the doves begin building their nest. Certainly with the construction going on in the back of the house, there were splinters and broken by the wind leaves and branches. The two birds carried the pieces, one splint at a time, up to the nest. I watched for some time and wondered if they would soon figure an easier way to do it. It seemed to take at least two days, but then sitting on the nest was mama. We didn’t think there were eggs yet, but she sat and is still sitting. I will note the calendar.
When sleep eludes, the backyard offers privacy to hold the Newfie along with Maudie again and of course the (invisible) Sages In Conference. I am at home with all this and know how fortunate I am. In February I journaled that as I was sitting resting my arms on bent knees, I felt what I thought a hand on my back. It was a loving touch and I thought son John had come through the patio door.
I lifted my head and a bird flew over from my back. I thought oh my, he walked up my back and I felt his weight. What trust! The connection I feel with Nature assures me my presence is welcome and my words to life are understood. When we lose that connection to Nature, we soon lose it with persons and it becomes non existent with the cosmic world.
We count on devices to tell us we are liked and ignore the human next to us. Who will catch us as we draw our last breath and watch the world calmly folding itself unto itself as the illusion it is? On what have we built our lives? What has been our focus?. . . .
As I Watched. . .
Part of a whole, yet wholly here.
Slowly as I watched
the silence was encompassing.
Piece by blessed piece, each tree,
each entity slowly folded upon itself
and laid itself down.
The screen protecting vanished
as it bent itself into nothing,
a wisp of an idea no longer useful.
Trees, one by one bent over themselves
and laid themselves down and
disappeared onto the forest floor.
And I thought now neat!
No evidence, no residue of debris
to litter the surroundings.
I murmured his name as I watched
the scene disappear and he said, don’t move.
And time collapsed for me again
into the frame of reference I know as mine.
And again the journey continued and
I sit and wonder and marvel at
this multifaceted existence I know as life.
(poem written March, 2017)
photo today April 8, 2018
by John Stanley Hallissey)
5 responses to “We Can Always Say. . . not ready. . . .”
A beautiful ‘in the moment’ description. The building, the crumbling, and the rebuilding of worlds. The peaceful quiet of it all. A moment stretched into a lifetime. Beautifully shared. Thank you for reminding us all to stop and see!
John, I was so unsure that this post was coherent. I wrote it all of a peace and all of a piece. I could see the connectedness. I am glad you saw it also. Veronica
email from Suzanne. . Dear Veronica,
I love everything about this post!
Your description of the world calmly folding itself unto itself…well…that entered my heart.
I wish we had grown up knowing each other. You are an awesome soul.
Sent from my iPhone
Suzanne, thank you for your support. We would have had great fun as neighbors, nor would any work be done. Another world with fewer needs will give time for laughter. Veronica
And I pray we meet there.