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The earth, she’s fully dilated. Crowning. I walked outside this morning, early, as the last little glimmer of a star was fading in the east. Birds were heralding, already darting about in between trees and branches. The Robins are back in full force, the red breasted coterie scampering around the yard with their unbelievable knack for finding worms. I feel about Robins the same way I felt about my best friend in high school. Sturdy, faithful, solid.  The Mourning Doves are also back now, and calling their hauntingly beautiful song out into the morning. One of my top five favorite sounds. In fact, when I lay dying I hope to hear that call.

It feels like a special time to me.

A time for inspiration. 

A time to pause, outside, and inhale deeply. A time to give thanks that life pulses through our vessels. A time to recognize that transformation, as evidenced by our teacher Earth, is all that we’re doing here.

From Rainer Maria Rilke in Letters To A Young Poet:

“All Things consist of gestation and then giving birth. To allow the completion of every impression, every germ of a feeling deep within, in darkness, beyond words, in the realm of instinct unattainable by logic, to await humbly and patiently the hour of a descent of a new clarity: that alone is to live one’s art, in the realm of understanding as in that of creativity.”

~

A note to my blogger community…I  have a big project I’m working on, whose culmination is in late May. Bear with me as I bring it to fruition, as I won’t be posting as much. You guys make my heart smile. :)