Three Things

This week I am thinking of three things:  clouds, pockets and revelations.
As a kid I watched “Bewitched” re-runs after school.  Sometimes Samantha would join her mother in the clouds for a witch to witch conference.  They would argue with each other completely oblivious to their surroundings.  Apparently in that universe it was normal for witches to meet in the clouds.  How wonderful to wiggle your nose and ride a cloud for an afternoon.
Elizabeth Montgomery and Agnes Moorehead flying
in ABC’s “Bewitched” 1964-1972


Only one cloud in my sky this morning, and it looks good for riding. 
What does this world look like from that cloud, sitting higher than birds soar? 
Perspective is everything.  Our planet is full, and getting fuller of people and we all have unique perspectives on the world, the neighborhood, the view of the lake, if Mrs. Green looks good in pink.  We all have different points of view.  How wonderful!
What about your point of view on the life’s journey?  
How are you doing? 
Have you figured out who you are yet?
I’m still working on it.
For a short while, years back, I was a daycare teacher for the three and four year olds.  One month we were teaching the kids about the five senses.  I went to the resource room to find games to go along with the theme.  The one I found for “touch” is on my mind this week:
Place random objects in a pillow case of different size and shape, such as a block, paperclip, action figure, rock, a string.  One by one a child places their hand into the bag, selects one item and guessing what it is only by touch. 
It was a success!  The kids seemed to enjoy it.

Revelation

I witnessed a man having a revelation, and it is haunting me.  He is in his 70’s.  The expression on his face was a moment of clarity.  I saw it.  It hit me hard.  A true WOW.

It was as if, for a second, the great mystery of life was revealed to him.  It looked as if he could see his life unfolding before his eyes, the important parts floating by, and now he could see, NOW he knew who he was, what his life had been about all those years! 
It was as if he finished reading that one page from a long mystery novel when all is revealed!
When you find out whodunnit and scream, “WHAT?  It was him?”
And at that moment I thought about the hidden objects in the pillow case and riding the clouds.  I thought about clues hidden by life’s veil, a rock that we carry with us forever in our mind’s pocket, something we play with and touch, to see if it is still there, wondering the great wonder of what it is.  A stone we get to hold and view ONE time.
Written on the stone is our answer. 
Once we read it, we ride the clouds.





Christmas Eve Walk

The legs of the pier were standing on the sky.  The bay water thick, and the activity of what plays in it a mystery to my eye.  Clouds and patches of blue, just fainting from the late afternoon, spread over the waves.  
Sky dancing on the Sea

Various sea fowl floated along, feet paddle as rudders, guide them wherever they want to go.  Where did they want to go?  Were the birds out for a walk?  A walk before dusk, before the sun sets and they sleep in nests I cannot guess to know the location?  What sort of blood would a water bird have to not freeze up on a day like this?  
I need to know all of this, wondering about everything I see, today this walk distracts me, I am filled with wonder!
I walk.  I walk alone.  Determined to cry if I wanted, if the tears came.  If the tears rise up inside me, I would let them flow, because I was alone, and I would allowed it.  It did not bother me myself too heavy, that my scarf and hat did not match, that my shoes had a small tear in the left toe, because I was alone, and I am happy.  I am happy and comfortable with myself.  Right now, I am happy and free and I feel like crying tears of happiness… 
Or is it the cold wind finding it’s way to 
the water I carry behind my iris?  
Pulling drops out with each blink, 
as gentle as a Grandmother in her kitchen.
I want to hug this damn planet.  This scene on the waterfront.  ‘Effing Christmas Eve and people are drinking hot chocolate, walking with family, friends, and their dogs.  People are happy here.  Right here!  Right now!
A dog off leash barks a happy hello to me, as if it knows me, as if we are long lost friends, separated on a trip to France, torn apart by war, each thought the other dead, but now- discover the other is alive!  
It’s the happiest bark I have ever had the privilege of receiving.  
The Happiest Dog EVER

The black lab, walks quickly towards me and brushes my left leg like a hug, tail wagging, tongue dripping out of its open mouth, nose pointing, below the dock, below on the beach- a young German Sheppard is playing fetch with its owners.  The Sheppard barks a hello back to my long lost friend.  How easy it is to understand the language of “dog”.  They are simple.

I walk from Fairhaven, along the pier to Boulevard Park, around the loop and then back towards my car.  I see all sorts of people; joggers, walkers, strollers, families, people of all ages.  No otters today, only birds floating on the sky.

Sea Otters on Vacation

I imagine a post card from the Otters, a photo of a furry family floating on Californian sea kelp, “Having fun, fish you were here”
I stop where the pier bends uphill, away from the water.  Then I see it- just there, right over there, between the spit I can walk to, and an island across the bay, …just there in a “V” shaped, black land-line at the horizon, is the glow of the winter sun setting.  A peach, then pink, soon dark purple, then stars.  I stare at it for a while.
A walker-lady stops and asks me, “Do you see anything interesting?”

“No, nothing today, not even the otters”

***

Poetry: Droplet

All the rain is making me think about this poem from 2010:


Sitting with a warm cup
sipping down the chamomile
looking up in awe
at the droplets drop
Abstract cutouts of dark trees
create the stage
so I can view you
descending from a silvery cloud
What of that one drop?
Where were you born?
You came from the sky
riding on a morning storm
Where do you live?
You go into the earth
watering a tree
Do you live in the tree?
Where is your home?
In the river as it
slithers back into the ocean
Do you live in the river?
Evaporated by the suns warmth
shrinking you down to mist
floating up to heaven
Are you dying or going home?
Back to the cloud you go
rising up and reborn
only to fall again
when a rain drop you become
Where do you live rain drop?
in the cloud
in the tree
in the river
…in me.