whistling inside.

i had an amazing co-worker who used to scold me everytime she'd catch me whistling inside.
"that's horrible luck in my country (russia)!" she'd say.
i miss her everyday... but i must admit i do LOVE whistling, inside and outside.

i've also been lucky enough to have picked up my 'essential rumi' book over the past few days. rumi writes about we human beings as reeds, cut from the field, and of "the beloved's" breath moving through the reeds (us) to create music (spirit). i often think of this when whistling.

i most certainly have a breath moving through me, creating music, creating spirit. and when it comes through as a whistle, it must be the beloved moving through. i'm aware of the urge to whistle. of which song it is that emerges from squeezed lips. of the key in which i whistle (is it too low? too high?) again, of course, i speak in metaphor:

what 'song' is coursing through your body right now?
how urgent is the feeling that you must let it fly into the air? that you must share?
how easy is it to breathe through your 'song'?
how long has it been living inside you, and how does it feel when you hear it echoing off the walls?

perhaps my co-worker was onto something, or perhaps she was communicating a belief about sharing that 'song' that lives within. perhaps it was too personal a thing to share for her.

oh boy. not for me. what a relief to let it emerge.
to feel the beloved (in every sense of the word) loosen my lips, then tighten them for balance and tone... and then.
to whistle from the inside out.

so it is.

a bright blue morning

i fell asleep writing a sonnet last night.

as i shut off the light, there were rumblings of thunder, and bright flashes of lightning; the rain speaking wisdoms on the roof.
i seem to be getting quite a few messages these days:

*it's anniversary time. and yet! it's also the present. and in the present we are able to do what we will. i choose to be informed by memories, and patterns, and cycles. and i choose to be in the now, in happiness. what will you choose to do with your anniversary times?

*it's the time of heading inside after taking it all in, and beginning the great sorting. what to keep? what to throw? i still have a lot to throw. remember the thrill of throwing a baseball so hard it almost hurt your arm? and then hearing that satisfying thwack as it hit someone's glove. whatever i throw, someone else will catch. and whatever i throw, makes room for ... the present.

*the metaphors of the natural world are forever overwhelming me: i heard about john muir last night, wondering if leaves get lonely on the branches as they watch their companions fall. there is relief in the falling (as in the throwing), in letting go, and letting yourself land on soft warm earth. especially when there's the possibility of being collected by children on rainy walks, who can't wait to share you as their treasure.

*therapy days are wonderful.

so it is.

on the first day....

so it is.
the present.

here is a place for connection, for reflection.
a place of release. a place for
many voices.

so it is.