This morning I was awakened by an owl. It was so loud, so insistent I ran out of bed and then out of the house in my dreamy state certain this creature had a message for me. It did: You can’t see me but I am here. Listen.
That’s all. I got the message and the owlsong ended.
I’m pretty sure every Holy book offers its own version of what the Owl said… I am here, listen… trust, listening—and hearing, looking into the darkness… maybe it’s what all things are saying—even us to each other. I am here, listen…you can’t see (all of) me but…
And the mist is pouring in over the tree line making it chilly and magical outside; it will burn off, but for now the feeling of a changing season is present, and the relief of that—I am ready for rhythm, I am ready for routine, I am ready to begin my Fall rituals; gathering dry sticks for kindling, stacking fire wood, a cleanse… shifting communing from spontaneous and expansive movements to cozying up with friends and folk; in slower, steadier ways…
Living at the coast, returning to the sea and salt of my childhood experience has been deeply nourishing, powerful, and steady in a high tides—low tides kind of way, in a wind and water kind of way, in a what happens when you get to gaze across the horizon every day kind of way.
SO different from the wild of PrayerFarm, the chaos of forest versus the chaos of ocean… chaos, chaos, chaos. Chaos lives in us, outside of us, all around us… today I am beginning the bow of appreciation to my teacher, friend, and enemy: Chaos, just for a time… Order will become my new best friend as the season shifts… the kind of order I most cherish for myself—rhythm and routine, the kind of order nature creates—a fresh canvas on the beach each day as the tides grow and recede, the fallen trees and broken branches of the forest after the coming of wind and rain… Chaos, Order, what’s the difference?
Please note what’s coming—monthly gathers to return to our work, to build and tend community. I look forward to hosting you @PrayerFarm—see you soon. XX