• animals,  coffee life,  flowers,  shadows

    My Commute

    I am not sure how many days I commuted to and from work but I am grateful I no longer commute to work. However, this morning on my walk/bus ride to the coffee shop I was aware I still commute, yet it does not seem like a commute. While commuting to work, my mind was already at work, figuring, planning, scheduling, arguing, and already building resentments. This meant I was not mentally present for the commute. Wonder how many gifts nature was offering me and I missed them?

    So I’m going to share with you a bit of my commute to coffee this morning. (Sorry if it bores you.) We had a cloudless blue sky. Apple blossoms reminding me it’s spring. A squirrel watching my every move. A cottontail checking out their reflection in the car. Early morning shadows. Spring flowers and new leaves on campus. Heard the cooing of a morning dove and the cry of a hawk. And then when I arrived at Mugs my barista, Emma, offered her wonderful smile and made me a mocha. Yes, I still commute but it’s different. I have an open slate on my calendar, so I plan to do a bit of reading and writing, in the sun. Enjoy your Friday.

  • Black and White,  quotes,  shadows

    The Holiness of the Moment

    “We forget that the path to God is bound up with our life in the world. Evidence of our spiritual mastery lies in our ever-deepening, continuously expanding humanity. The trick is to be as fully present as possible to the holiness of each moment.”

    Mirabai Starr

    I walk by this wall each morning on the way to and from one of my favorite coffee shops. I admittedly often pass, giving it only a mindless quick glance. At other times I can be more present, walking in my shoes rather than wandering aimlessly in my head. This morning I noticed! As it’s an east facing wall these shadows dance on the brick wall as the sun rises above the houses until mid day. Not only do these shadows create art on the wall, and a photo opportunity, they share with me the time of season. Soon to be filled with leaves these shadows will look differently. I’m hoping my noticing is a sign of being more present to life, expanding my humanity. So I accepted the holiness of the moment and sharing it with you. 

  • Plants,  shadows,  snow,  trees,  winter scenes

    The Oval’s Shadows

    Shadows at the CSU Oval

    A bit warmer this morning at 14 degrees but still cold enough. Blue skies and sunshine predicted for today and maybe 43 degrees. Made my way to Mugs for an Old Town Moch made by the lovely Emma. Always a good start to my day. As I left the coffee shop I noticed the shadows stretching across the CSU Oval and felt compelled to pull into the parking area for a quick photo. The trees encircling the Oval and lining the inner sidewalks are all American elms. Many of the trees date from the 1880s and 1920s. There are 99 elms circling the Oval and lining its walkways. Some of the trees are 80 to 90 feet high, with roots that are one-and-a-half times their height. Many of the large elm trees that circle Oval Drive were planted in 1922, as 1-inch saplings, and until 1924, the center Oval was an alfalfa and grain field. In 1925, a grass lawn was planted. It was interesting to research the history of the trees and the oval this morning. I now have a bit more connection to them and those early morning shadows they offer. Have a wonderful Sunday!

  • poems,  poetry,  seasons,  shadows,  snow,  winter scenes

    The Source Within

    Everything you see has its roots
    In the unseen world.
    The forms may change
    Yet the essence remains the same.
    Every wondrous site will vanish,
    Every sweet word will fade,
    But do not be disheartened,
    The Source they come from is Eternal,
    Growing, branching out,
    Giving new life and new joy.
    Why do you weep?
    That source is within you
    And this whole world
    Is springing up from it.

    Rumi
  • prayer,  quotes,  shadows

    The Silence of Prayer

    This mornings shadows in my bedroom

    I am learning to pray again, not in the way I was taught as a child, but in all the ways the desert has taught me to listen.

    Terry Tempest Williams

    Over 20 years ago I was given the suggestion to learn how to pray in my own way, that maybe prayer was much more than I had been taught as a child. That suggestion has become a wonderful gift. So my life of prayer, the how, what and who of my prayer is, has become so experiential, personal and inclusive. It is always evolving, a conversation, yet without words. It has become more about listening to an inner voice and listening to nature. I include my journaling, listening for words, as a form of prayer, as is reading. Might as well include laughter as prayer. So is crying. Watching the sunrise. Taking in a deep breath is prayer. And, if we take the lesson, we will find nature teaches us silence to sit with. I’m learning to be silent in the silence of prayer.