Tuesday, January 14, 2020



From a dark slump of a week
From a seven day tooth ache
From a full week of shaking my head and refusing to jump off the diving board while others 
           lined up waiting behind me....
Fourteen half days of fuming at God;
Twenty eight quarter turns of the sun waking up with a dark presence standing with a foot on my                 throat.
All I managed to do was wait, stop pushing against the side of the box. Just wait.

Then this morning I got up to go to Aunt Mary's funeral and I grabbed my book of gratitude given by  my sweet soulful  Kathy. At the bottom of each page a scripture, sometimes 
soothing, sometimes infuriatingly unattainable. My gratitudes are scribbled in and around the scriptures of a Judaeo-Christian God; They are the rambling but intentional recognition of moments when life still surprises and draws me out by her beauty and wonder.

I started reading the words I have written since Ian's birthday in September. It was a hard time to find any gratitude at all in the dry leaves of my heart.  Four and a half months of closing my eyes and walking through the pain, just trying to get to the other side with some sense of humor left. Written all along the painful march are my big and little grateful knowings and seeings....
LOTS of them-
(Isn't that a miracle in itself?) 
So many, in fact,  that some days my hand would furiously scribbled them down before grief could  once again steal the joy away.

The shocking presence of butterflies,  vivid dreams, chimes ringing, light flickering in my living room; friends, my kids, memories, small things seen on my walks, brief moments of relief and flushes of unexpected love; little glimpses of still believing, unexplained bits of the natural world like frogs and flowers, stems and stamens. And always the sunrises and sunsets that demand recognition. The vast mystery; tying things together with colored ribbon of an almost forgotten truth. 

I suddenly found myself thinking of the droplets of water I photographed yesterday suspended from the delicate tips of blue stem grass. Impossibly but undeniably formed and there for me to see, and when I see them, I receive a spark of knowing I am witnessing the miracle again. It stirred something familiar in me....

It was my "Chi".....
The lightening of my blood, stored in my lower spine and enables me to perceive messages from nature and supernatural worlds. The "Chi" I am told we all have.

No specific new awareness or thought, yet I feel the cloud of sadness that has been here all week suddenly lift. the beast that has had me pinned to the ground, shrugs and leaves again. I have made it around another bend in the road....

I feel a turning of things
And I know the truth of it.

There was no one person to tell, 
Because  although there have been many kindred spirits in my life,
Each only shares a mile or so.

Except You,  my Chi, my Creator
Inside me and
Around me;
A Holy wind that blows and blows
And sometime touches me
And every soul 

The Quetzal
Holy Chi
The Silent Witness
Holy Spirit
My Lord

As Thomas said:

Let the one who seeks not stop seeking until he finds. When he finds, he shall be troubled. When becomes troubled, he will be amazed, and shall transcend all things."

Well, this morning I begin to feel amazed, as my doubting friend suggests. Kathy's scriptures  that are the little chorus of confirmation from traditional Christianity no longer seem to conflict with Chopra,  or Thomas, or Quantum theory, or even the Aztec god Quetzal. 

They are, to me this morning.....

All pitched to the same mystic chord.

Good timing, God. I needed this today.
I love You and I trust You,

My times are in Your hands.