summer rain

I took the baby to the door and we stood together, silent, and watched the rain sheet down. She stared and I drank my fill of the tiny things. The way I could smell both my daughter's yeasty warm scalp and the dank, mossy green rain, warm, doing only what it was doing. Nothing more. Everything in it's entirety; pouring from the clouds without distraction, full of being it's simple self. What a good life; to live and be only what one is designed to be and do. Doing it with joy and with fullness and relishing each drop, each tiny bead of water-life. Like the fat angel bundle of honey-girl in my arms who lives each second with the certainty and presence of moment that I envy and delight in, both. If I could fall like the rain and laugh with the belly laugh of a baby! Such a small and grandiose aim!







I read in a wonderful book sent to me by a lovely friend that we are all as bottomless and as still-calm-deep-blue as the ocean and our thoughts and feelings are only the flitting waves across the surface. When I look at the rain I remember this and the patience and calm that I so often lack seem as wide and as huge as the sky. For a moment. When I forget it is ok still, because I am always the deep-blue of stillness, even when I burn like a hot sun and rant and sweat.... forgiving the self is the colour of the sea, washing away green salty tears with a fresh slate. Every moment of awareness can be one of tabula rasa.

Blessings on your eyes, heart and hands and may everything your bare feet touch today leave a trail of golden light - whatever the weather outside.