Impermanence and grace.

I am blessed to live on a small piece of land I refer to as Revery.  It has become sacred over the years, both by the fact that I have experienced the pendulum of pain and joy while living here and that I have connected with every aspect of its ecology and presence.  Years ago, I decided to plant a maze in the back yard for my children.  The shrubs are now grown together in both breadth and height, creating the opportunity for adventure within the pathways created by their forms.  Recently, my 19 year old son walked through the maze as I was working in the back garden.  His word, so often spoken in the current youth culture, was “epic” as he appeared from the end of the maze.  I watched him as he walked then onto the meadowed chaos of our back lawn; my youngest son and I have insisted that it remain unkempt and unmowed, for the adventure it affords as such.  He paused to observe a huge patch of dandelions in seed and immediately reached for his phone to take a picture.  In that moment, we both recalled a journey up Dolores Street on the center medians planted with the huge date palms; that day when he was so small, he picked every dandelion seed head, forming a huge bouquet in his small and powerful hands.  He held thousands of wishes at that moment; he recalled them as he observed these seed heads again in the garden.

I have learned that love is my muse.  My journey as a mother has been steeped in love and I am inspired to continue toward the depth of being that my children ask of me.  My time with my family and observance of the suffering of those beloved to me has expanded my experience of love.  Love expands within me through my work and through my daily walk in my own garden.  I have found peace as I observe the parasitic wasp pause for a drink from the trough of water held by the tiny flower of euphorbia.  I am elated as a hummingbird pauses in its race for a meal and flies around me, hovering to observe, then flies a few more feet, and hovers again.  And, the porosity of soil and tiny white threads of mycelium give me a great reverence for all that is unseen.

In the press of responsibility in each day, I hope to see the small wonders of this life.  The pajamas, turned inside out and thrown on the bookshelf of my youngest son’s room, can remind me of the carefree moments of life.  The vision of my aged dog sunbathing reminds me of a common wisdom among all living creatures.  The mantis I discover while gardening, inviting him to my hand for a visit, reminds me that all of life is sentient. 

I am grateful to do work that I love now.  The opportunity to work with people and act as a catalyst to their own visions of inspiration is a great gift.