A Daily Meditation

 

img_5801A daily meditation is a lovely way to begin or end a day.  A time to reflect, think, dream, pray, be.  An idea floated upon me yesterday.  An idea to listen and record a daily message from nature.  We all know that we go too fast in this society.  We have isolated ourselves from the things that enchant and feed our life force.  We desperately try to connect but get a busy signal.

I am among the most guilty of this.  I despise sitting for a long period of time though I do dream of great books and cups of tea and long walks.  But from sun up to sun down I busy myself to the point of frenzy.  My body yells for rest now.  It used to whisper, now it demands.  Fatigue hits me with a powerful force mid-afternoon.  I get the subtle and not-so-subtle messages my body and weary spirit are telling me.  Slow down.  Breathe.  Listen.  There is much to learn still.

So each day I will be out in nature, even if that means walking along the pavement, and will listen and record what I am being told.  Plenty of photographs and symbolism will intertwine with the daily meditations I write.  These will all be recorded on my other blog, Medicine Wolf.  I will still be writing this blog daily with all of the fun, recipes, homesteading, farming, herbal remedies, and stories you have grown to love.  But, then maybe hop over to Medicine Wolf and sign up for a daily email with insights and wisdom from nature.  Let’s all become students of nature and Spirit.  (Click on the name Medicine Wolf to be taken over to the other page.)

Walking at Dawn

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The hummingbirds flit around my hair on their way to sweetened nectar

their ringing sounds of bells in the early morning air.

The dawn shines clear and hopeful

brushing pink in its palette spread across the landscape fair.

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I walk across heavy laden needles and cacti, up steep inclines of bindweed and pine cones, through underbrush that crunches beneath a canopy of sweet Ponderosas I stop to smell.  Their caramel bark dissipating in the midsummer morn.  Sweet clover brushes against me and the birds sing to the heavens in great song as a mother deer brings her new fawn along.

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I sit atop a large stone above the sleepy town, crossed legged and facing the sun.  The world is quiet above the trees as Tiger Swallows catch the light breeze.  “I have all you need,” Nature whispers to me, food and medicine and shelter and more, there is no fear and nothing to fret for.

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And he dusted off the old resume restored, looking in closet for nice clothes long past, away to the office he will tread and to the city which was our dread.  But, the new house will be found and in it memories and laughter sounds.  Gardens to plant in the front yard for fun, and bike rides to local eateries and movie runs.  A new life ahead, still quite unseen, unknown, but one that will be filled with joy and journeys yet unsewn.

A Pioneer’s Life For Me

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I was dreading going into the goat pen.  Elsa has mastitis and we have been diligently treating it but that along with her spoiled little girl self makes it incredibly difficult to milk her.  It takes all of my strength to hold her as Doug milks her out.  All of our muscles are shaking by the end and she has kicked the milk bucket a few times.  Our clothes are covered in milk and goat hair and I am often near tears.  Last night as I looked up before going in the pen a beautiful sight transpired.  The same one that made us feel we made the right choice moving out here.  The brightest rainbow arched across the sky, seemingly right above us, from horizon to horizon it promised peace.  Its colors sparkled in the rain that fell in straight glistening showers downward watering the gardens.  The sun shone through it and all was bright.  Today we will tie her back legs.

I love the peacefulness of home.  Now that Emily has moved back in, we drive considerably less.  We feel better in our bustling schedule around this homestead.  I love the heaviness of the cast iron skillet as I prepare eggs fresh from the coop and slice warm bread that I baked.  Dandelions, or other produce later, are mixed into the eggs throughout the season along with homemade cheese.  I hope fresh fruit will join these.  We look across our table and see how much of it we produced.  We are aptly satisfied and proud yet strive to produce nearly everything we consume.  Of course we shall rely on the humble farmer that provides the grains for our table.  The coffee from far away.  The teas exotic.  But our year long sustenance grows each season on this homestead as we produce more and more.

The milk hits the bucket in a sing-song tune as Isabelle stands sweetly on the stand.  She occasionally turns to kiss Doug’s ear.  She loves him and seems to want to impress him.  This year she is giving over a gallon a day of fresh milk.  I pour the warm milk into his coffee once inside.  The creamy morning treat warms the farmer.  These simple pleasures transcend the ordinary ones we knew growing up.  Last night after Doug had fallen asleep I sat in the rocking chair my father gave my mother upon learning that she was with child over forty-one years ago.  I sat in front of the wood stove and let it warm me as I relaxed into my book, the oil lamp highlighting the page, a cup of hot tea by my side.  The house and land is quiet.  My muscles are tired but my mind is joyous.  There is cheese pressing, bread dough rising, and at least the dishes are done.  I am reading an Amish book.

I have sat in an Amish home and read accounts.  They are not unlike mine.  Keeping the world out is something I strive for.  The news stays in its dramatic studios of fear.  Anger, stress, and sadness dissipate quicker here.  We are not immune to financial wonderings and relationship woes but here in this setting they work themselves out and the spirit is restored quickly.  We pray openly here and are thankful for our blessings.  We call on the Lord for signs, for help, and for comfort and receive them as we listen softly in the night by oil lamp and quiet.

The aprons hang on the wall and tell stories, I decide which one I wish to don this day.  I have long skirts, and long slips, and layers to make them stand out because they are comfortable, and feminine, and fine.  The apron pocket holds what I need as I bustle from clothes line to barn yard to kitchen.  Three meals a day grace the table and the children always know they can come home to a hot meal, peace and quiet, and an escape from the world beyond.

The counties out here argue over fracking, over wind mills, over water.  Not here! they say.  Yet folks will not give up their luxuries and want these means of fancies and want destruction to get them so long as they cannot see them.  We work on our own solution, to use less.  To find alternative ways.  And the classical music plays softly in the kitchen and the electric kettle often gets turned on but bird song could fill the musical need and a kettle whistling from wood stove could suffice.  And the world could howl outside our door but our respite remains here in our pioneer ways.  I put on my sun bonnet and head outdoors to plant.

Autumn Prairie Musings

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I am in love with this place.  It speaks to me…

of heartbreaks healed and promises kept.

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The lingering wood smoke scents the air as the rustic landscape captivates me.  It pulls me in and dances with me across further snow capped peaks and nestles me near in elder Elms.  I am pleased here, at peace, quiet, exhaled.

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Words and new poems run through my mind- cadences and song, psalms and prayers.  I think I have been burnt out for a long time.  Work too hard.  Expect too much of others and myself and often forget to live.  The rabbit that shoots out of the brush and away in a zigzag when I startle him cares not if I answer every call or busy work myself to exhaustion.  The wild world of nature will still be there if our chaos of whirlwind, human made, self righteous living were to end.  It would go on, more peacefully perhaps.  I breathe again and look out across the prairie and realize my soul is connected to this natural world and I come back to myself.

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The prairie is so alive.  Rabbits scamper under brush as owls speak in trees under foliage of vibrant hues.  Hawks circle, the sky is huge here.  Dauntingly beautiful, I cannot even find myself to paint.  I could never match the beauty.  Inspiration fuels me, revitalizes my senses.

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Fall is evident in scenes I failed to notice in our past existence.  Piles of firewood in country front yards.  The thicker white coats on our goats.  Chickens getting new feathers, laying less eggs.  The winds are different, the clouds look different.  The colors increased- vibrant, charged, glowing.

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I watch for birds flying south so I have my timeline of preparedness.  Firewood.  Sweaters.  Pantry full.  Animal feed stocked.  Chimney swept.  Gutters cleaned.  Garden prepped.  Garlic planted.

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My list never ends but may I learn to live in a simpler breath.  Slower.  Methodical.  Meaningful.  Breathe, the air is sweet upon us and Autumn is in the air.