Itching For Unity and a Poem about Coming Home #connection #nature #poetry

A place of close connection in Iceland.

Here in New England we have one more month of winter ahead of us. The landscape around me is mostly exposed. Our snow has arrived in spurts this year. We’ve had a few good dumps of precipitation, but mostly in the form of rain. When it snows, it lasts for maybe a week before we move into a warm spell. It’s become a disturbing cycle. A cycle indicative of the changes in our climate.

I fell asleep last night thinking about longing for a different world. A world returned to the wild, mostly. It’s a persistent itch inside of me. It’s deep, nearly too deep to satisfy. These days it almost seems impossible. And, it is a longing wrapped in guilt.

I find myself struggling with the desire to leave the house and the place I have called home for 15 years. To break away from the confines of developed normalcy to run to the wild places on Earth. To find home again, in the land.

It is not the same to walk into the woods here. It wears too many footprints. The weight of the past feels mostly too heavy. We are haunted by the ghosts of the past here in this land stolen with force and bloodshed. Now, I look outside and see the imprints of competitions. The striving for more. To be better. To be the best.

I see a blind race to nowhere.

Perhaps I will feel differently, when the green takes over again, softening the bones of the past. Bringing renewal, for at least a few months, but right now, I seek the magic of the land in other places. I long to press my body into the wind and feel the song of Earth bringing my dormant cells back to life. The call of the Mother’s heartbeat itches until I am rubbed raw with frustration.

I wonder if this is what we all suffer from?

Yet, we continue to build and erect our walls. We fill our water with toxins and our air with forgetting. We eat the refuge of our waste as though it were nourishment, forgetting why we are here and where we came from.

We’ve created a precipice upon which we have staggered for too long. It’s become almost impossible to find balance again. To return to the wild places I long to visit, I must consume resources that damage what I seek most. Hope seems to wait outside my lifetime. The sides that divide struggle with our collective future. One embracing more destruction, the other renewal. I do not know if I will live long enough to see one or the other win, but I hold onto the hope that one day we will find that unity again and there will be no longer be an itch inside of us. No longing with conflict. That one day not even doors will keep us from feeling the pulse that drums through all life and know it as home.

Seljalandsfoss: Our First Stop Along the South Coast of Iceland #Seljalandsfoss #Iceland #travel

The south coast of Iceland is famous for its waterfalls, volcanos, glaciers, and black sand beaches. We didn’t quite make it as far as Vík to see the black sand and rocks of the south coast, but we still filled a day’s worth of wonders.

I found the hills along the south coast to be particularly animated

As we drove along highway 1, Iceland’s famous Ring Road, towards our first stop, the clouds began to part to make way to the blue beyond and the glorious sun that had been mostly missing from the previous day. The drive from Reykjavík to Seljalandfoss, our first outdoor destination, is nearly two hours. We decided to break it up with a quick stop at the LAVA Centre in Hvolsvollur.

The LAVA museum is a bit pricey, but offers some fun and impressive interactive exhibits that demonstrate the awesome power of Iceland’s volcanic landscape. There’s a twenty minute movie that runs all day, and is worth watching to see close-up views of the volcanos erupting. I found the devastating effects on the livestock to be a bit depressing, but you do get a real-life feel of what it means to live in the Land of Fire and Ice.

It was uplifting to see the blue skies emerge as we drove towards Seljalandsfoss and took in the glorious views.

After a somewhat sobering visit to the museum, we headed back out on our path towards our first waterfall of the day. Seljandsfoss is a very popular spot for tourists, but like most of the other attractions in Iceland, one can find parking without a problem. There is almost always a small fee to park, and credit cards are the method of choice.

You cannot miss Seljalandsfoss, which is visible from quite a distance on the highway as it falls over the grass covered lava hills that reach towards the ocean.

When we rounded a corner and saw the waterfall in the distance, we knew that our destination was not far away. On a sunny day such as we had, the effect is worth a pause to take it all in, and we stopped for a moment so I could run through the wind and capture a few photographs along the roadside.

Sejalandsfoss is fully aware of her beauty, you cannot help but be drawn into the curve of the hills to take in the full breadth of her wonder.

Sejalandsfoss, like Gullfoss was one of the spots where I wished there had been half the amount of visitors joining us. Everyone wants to capture her magnificence, and it can be a little frustrating if one wishes to take a personal moment of connection. Still, it is glorious to be there, and more than worth slowing down as much as you can to take in its wonder.

The path around the falls allows you to walk behind Seljalandsfoss, which we did. You will, though, get wet.

Although it was sunny and becoming quite warm by Iceland’s standards, we donned our raincoats, and I slipped on my rain pants, before we exited the car. Seljalandsfoss is one Iceland’s waterfalls that allows visitors to walk around its perimeter. The path can be slippery and wet, and depending on the wind, you’ll get a good spray of her waters at some point along the way.

Behind the falls

If you are prepared for the adventure, I recommend walking the circumference of the falls. We got wet, but I found it to be a holy experience, as though being baptized by Mother Nature as you receive the never-ceasing spray of Seljalandsfoss.

The Song of Seljalandsfoss

It also felt rather nice to have the cool waters of the falls on our faces as we made our way back into the sun.

After receiving the spray from the falls

The chilly waters of Seljalandsfoss come from the Eyjafjallajokull glacier, which pours down water along the hillside. It’s well worth a longer visit at this site to walk along the paths to visit some of the lesser falls, which we took some time to do.


Leaving Seljalandsfoss, we made our way down the trail to visit her sisters.

We started stripping off layers as we walked along the sun-filled path below the hills to view the other falls.

Views along the path to Gljufrabui

If you venture far enough along the path, you will reach Gljufrabui. Although the waterfall is not as large or showy as Seljalandsfoss, it holds its own magic. Hidden inside a canyon, Gljufrabui only partially viewable from the path. One must brave the stream that it flows into, as well as the slippery rocks and the waterfall’s generous spray, to get a close-up. Dave stayed behind on the path, but I could not resist the urge to enter the cave.

Although the “selfie rock” was constantly being occupied by other visitors, I managed to get some decent shots of Gljufrabui devoid of tourists.

It was not easy to say goodbye to the falls here, but even the sun decided to depart as we made our way back to our car to venture towards our next destination. And, somehow, the clouds were just right for where we would next be.

One last look at Seljalandsfoss as the clouds started to roll back in

Next stop, Skógafoss…

Unfolding #poetry #yoga

To tumble out of the unfolding draw in a breath

Remember who you are

Remember the child who knew how to dance with light

Your doorway to truth

Like Alice peering into the Looking Glass without fear

Grab ahold of wonder

Dive into the ripening

You the vine, but also the seed

Arising from the place of beginnings

Everything already coded

waiting to break open

To reach beyond the ground

draw down light and spread the tender vine

Rejoining the spiral dance

Full Moon Poem #fullmoon #moonpoetry

Image by Bessi from Pixabay

To expound upon beauty

Uniquely yours to release

Dive out of the covers

And breathe fresh

Life yours to define

Mold ripe potential

Defining the turn of lines

Washing the edges with color

Until you forget work

In favor of creation

There is no need to rise

Above or below

But inward

The extraordinary is spiral

You, reaching to discover

The ecstatic dance of joy

In your own rhythm

The steps lighten

Opening the beauty of you

Again

Summer of Rain and Fire #climatechange #ahimsa #kindness #pandemic

I no longer wonder how long it will last, but how long we will endure.

We are living in extremes. One side of the world weeps, while the other side burns in fever. One element, without the other, leads to imbalance. Just like in the human body. Too much yin swallows life force. Too much yang, burns it up. Yet, somehow, for now, we endure. Endure to hold onto extremes…

We reflect what we create.

Denial can be a powerful force of destruction. Eyes resist focusing on what brings discomfort.

Turmoil stirs the Earth, but it also stirs the self.

How often do we forget that what we sow within, we reap outside of us?

I find myself growing tired of excuses. The unchecked ego filled with self-affirming prophecies refusing to go inward to see outside the self with clear eyes.

I find myself growing tired of the selfish mind refusing to remember that we are here to take care of not only the self, but the whole.

I am tired of those who insist on being right at the expense of life. Denying a crisis serves no purpose other than for the ego to feel justified.

We are taught by our spiritual leaders that all life is sacred. That we are just one part of a whole. We are taught interconnectedness and to do no harm, yet the ego’s search for separation has led to a world that burns and weeps extremes. A world where more than 4 million people have died from a virus that is mutating out of control because there are so many hosts that refuse to believe it is real.

Refuse to see that inaction can cause harm.

Our Earth was created with free energy and that energy has never left us. Yet we burn her lungs for profit, and drill into the body that feeds us for industrial gain. Temporary gains leaving trails of disease and death.

We are, undeniably, a selfish lot, but we don’t have to be.

Small gestures can go a long way…

Getting a vaccine can not only save your life, but countless others.

Wearing a mask if you are at risk of harming your own life and others, is not a violation of your personal rights, it is an act of ahimsa. It is an act of grace and kindness.

Tending to the planet is not an act of weakness, it is an act of strength. It is an act of ahimsa. It is an act of grace and kindness.

What I saw this morning #poetry #griefpoetry #grief #loss #death

Photo Cedit: Pixabay

I saw you in the moors today

your hair wild like milkweed

blown free with she who waits

standing in the valley between

The wind, beckoning a caress

two faces turned upward in joy

Water, cleaving the breasts of the goddess

your feet streaming the memory of stars

The renewal of spring lapping the hillside

like a newborn lamb, and you standing

beside her remembering it all

hands clasped in reunion

opening the womb. The body

becoming formless, ripe, orange

walls pulsing the mother-beat

winged emergence breaking

through stone. Guardians

fortifying the chamber vibrating

your song as you become the light

of rainbows, again. Isis

enfolding and opening

lifts the veil to the path of stars

spiraling to welcome the dragon

descending, running the water

gold

#Soar #writephoto

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Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Soar

I dreamt of the voice shuttered

tight against the storm. Words

held behind the clouded window, urgent

We are here!

Blue feathers lined in black resting

in sunlit trees. Impossibly large

No, they cannot be mine

I doubted the possible

stroking the membrane of the quill

so many gathered stories filling

the space beneath, calling

through the echo of time

wondering why the throat

is like a storm cloud waiting to break

the sun. Wondering why

space needs to be confined while the bird

of truth lies in wait

for permission to soar

Once again, I had a feeling that Sue’s photo would echo my dreams. For Sue’s #writephoto writing prompt,#Soar.

Imagining A World Made New #poetry #poems #spiritualpoetry

IMG-1047

I’m trying to imagine a world made new

this riptide of dis(ease) softening into rebirth as seven

billion people grow golden filaments

around the darkness of our womb. At night

I claw dirt back into Her body

to hear the heartbeat wrapped inside

release the tired shoulders, She whispers, you

who have learned to wear blades

as you seek to stretch beyond the chrysalis

breathe whole

arms, ready to release

the heavy weight of fight

trap the body collecting pain

without permission. You wounded

warriors of the light

stamp identity upon the heart

pressing the false hold into a battle cry

lodged inside a forgotten throat

Sing truth to open the portal to the heart

and allow the soul

to shout victory

darkness is a demon

only if left unexplored. Let the cry loose

Let it soar through the shadowland inside

until it ignites the joy that is life. Real

life. Release those golden threads and weave

the memory of unity

whole

The Global Heart #poetry

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Photo Credit: Pixabay

I cannot help thinking of the heart

and life’s breath held in separation

A viral wrap, searching for community

opening the return of the forgotten

goddess. She peers green eyes of the forest

through locks of fire. An earthen trunk

rooted to the life lines. Horns tuned

to the stars, bridging the divide

How everyone is feeling

the broken as fear’s seize spreads dis-

ease. Time, collapsing and morphing

twisting minutes too surreal to be real

Too real to be false. Lies breaking the voice

gasping for air through constricted lungs

while she breathes her return, softly beckoning

from the shadows. Can you see me now?

she asks. The key is held in your heart

and all

The Memories of Stone #writephoto #memory

memory
Photo Credit: Sue Vincent

Some say the giants are still here

Their memories held inside the stones

They watch the movement of time

and grimace at our indifference

Some weep for lack of care

Borrowing water from the sky

Our eyes see inert bodies

ravaged by weather and not

the chiseling hand. Yet the eye watches

waiting for the few who wish to spiral inward to stir

memories beyond dimension. The giants seek

the seekers and wait. Feeling the press of footsteps

blindly walking. The push of restless bodies

Listening to “Hurry up.” “Let’s move on”…

to the next best thing. Whatever that is.

They watch. Eyes following too slowly to be caught

Lids, never blinking. Legs tucked into the land

who knows their breath. Their hearts,

held in Her hands pulse the music of the land

She, who never forgets her children

moves love through tired veins to spiral the waiting eye

Forever looking for the one who will stop

and remember.

For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt, #memory