From the top of the moon...

Looking down at the earth from the top of the moon,
Her blue-green mantle created from a magical loom.
Emerald and sapphire adorn her face,
She looks to the sun with such beauty and grace.

Tilting and turning, our blue planet does spin,
The celestial jackpot of life we did win.
From the shores of the Sea of Tranquility
A more beautiful planet we shall never see.

Serendipty under the madrona tree...

Recently I happened to be at the airport in Seattle where I met a knitter. She was sitting and knitting a long blue scarf while waiting for the arrival of her friend. I had just arrived and was waiting to meet my sister for a much-needed ‘girls weekend’. I sat next to the knitter and admired her scarf.

“Are you a knitter?” she asked me.
“Yes”, I answered.
“Are you here for the Madrona?” she inquired.
“I could be” I replied, “what is it?”.

She went on to tell me it is an annual winter fiber retreat being held over the weekend. Suddenly, I had a mission: attend the Madrona Fiber Festival! So, my sister and I carved out some time and went. While we were there we saw the knitter from the airport and spent a few minutes talking with her and her friend. It was a terrific recommendation and I am so happy I went. I think I will plan on attending next year.

Paulina Tarot

While surfing the internet today I came across a new tarot deck that has captivated me. It is called the Paulina Tarot. Created by Paulina Cassidy, this deck is absolutely enchanting. The colours are soft with a sort of faerie feel. The intricate details give several layers to these cards and it seems that each time I go back and view a card again I find something new. It is a full 78 card deck and each one is as beautiful as the last. I am going to Seattle for the weekend to visit my sister, so I hope to get out to a local metaphysical shop to pick up one of these amazing decks. I can hardly wait!

Be sure to see more of her work here: http://www.paulina.ws/tarot/

The Magician's Sonnet

Happy New Year!

One of my favourite forms of poetry is the sonnet. For the past year I have been working on my “Tarot Project”, which is to write 78 sonnets. No small task. It can take quite awhile to write one, because I try to distil all that a card can bring, with it’s nuances, into the form of the English sonnet.

Since this is the first day of the New Year, I offer to you my “Magician’s Sonnet”. May the energy and power of this archetype be yours to bring forth many good things.

The Magician’s Sonnet

With lemniscate halo, poised to respond
One hand to heaven, the other points below
With tools spread out: cup and coin, sword and wand,
All is ready to create and bestow
Concentration and purpose flowing,
The magic time of transforming dreams is here
Drawing from spirit and imagination,
Life is breathed into wishes without fear

Wizard, Trickster, or Shaman, who is this Mage?
Beware the power of this energy,
Harsh judgement and fear shall not be waged
Past hurts and lies released for synergy
Bring forth the purpose and essence of being
For dreams made real are well worth seeing.

2.5 Miles...

Well, I finally did it. I bought myself a treadmill. A really nice one. And I love it!!! For the past few years I have been staying in shape by power walking, which, for me, means walking at a fast pace such that it is difficult to hold a conversation. It is just below breaking into a run. I went out in cool mornings of spring, only to have some birds dive-bomb near my head in an effort to protect their young. I have endured the blazing sun of summer and some days were so hot I simply could not go outside and exert that kind of physical effort without taunting a heat stroke. In the winter time, the fierce winds and bone-chilling temperatures made me want to stay indoors (which began to happen with greater frequency).

Now I can go on my power walk, no matter the weather! I can measure my distance and speed, adjust the incline, program my own workouts, or use any of the nine pre-programmed workouts. There is a hill course, interval training, and a whole bunch of others I can’t remember.

While I don’t get the pleasure of a change in scenery, I am able to use my treadmill time to do some thinking. This morning I thought of a design for a knitted blanket. I mapped out the size, the number of squares, and the motifs I would like to knit into the squares. I though of the bananas I have that are ready to be made into yummy banana nut bread. I also planned our dinner menu for the upcoming week.

So, today I walked 2.5 miles and I feel great. Now I can spend the rest of the day lounging in my La-Z-Lady chair, knit, and watch football. That is how I manage to make myself hop onto the treadmill each morning. I earn my knitting time only after I have had a power walk! Our bodies were meant to move and I hope I have inspired you to do whatever it is that you love for your body. The rewards are tremendous!

Little Fiddler

I came across this photo and fell in love with it. So simple, so delicate, so exquisite. It is perfect. Living in western Canada, along the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, the terrain ranges from two extremes: endless, open prairies to the east and massive, rock-faced mountains to the west. Both are a sharp contrast to the forests of Washington where I grew up. There was green, green, and more green, everywhere. Green of every shape, every shade, and every texture. It even smelled green. Heady, thick, rich, and…well… earthy. It is a smell I shall never forget. This little photo transported me back to that place and time in an instant. I am so grateful that my brain could transport me to this green place and time all these years later. What a beautiful gift.

Hope there is a little green in your life.

The Sea-Limits

The Sea-Limits

by Dante Gabriel Rosetti

Consider the sea's listless chime:

Time's self it is, made audible,--

The murmur of the earth's own shell.

Secret continuance sublime

Is the sea's end: our sight may pass

No furlong farther. Since time was,

This sound hath told the lapse of time.

No quiet, which is death's,--it hath

The mournfulness of ancient life,

Enduring always at dull strife.

As the world's heart of rest and wrath,

Its painful pulse is in the sands.

Last utterly, the whole sky stands,

Grey and not known, along its path.

Listen alone beside the sea,

Listen alone among the woods;

Those voices of twin solitudes

Shall have one sound alike to thee:

Hark where the murmurs of thronged men

Surge and sink back and surge again,--

Still the one voice of wave and tree.

Gather a shell from the strown beach

And listen at its lips: they sigh

The same desire and mystery,

The echo of the whole sea's speech

And all mankind is thus at heart

Not anything but what thou art:

And Earth, Sea, Man, are all in each.