It's a Beautiful Day

 

What If

 

Grace Will Lead Me Home (Official Music Video)

 

Joshua Aaron // Immanuel

 

Sovereign symphony

 

Owl music, and a musical veggie

 

Dear blog,

I just wanted to stop in and say hi.

Hi.

Today was a nice day. A slow sleepy day. And the the sunset was so misty, and beautiful. The green fields of alfalfa, the light shining through the leaves on the trees, making them glow.

I was painting again and another family came across the way, to be photographed. So I got serenaded by the lovely sounds of children. Some happy sounds, and some sad.  And a dad and mom trying very hard to get their kids to smile, and laugh, so they could take a nice picture. 

Bess would come out, and talk to me while I was painting, and poke food at me. She handed me a date with peanut butter.  She loves peanut butter. On everything.

And it is pretty good on many things. 

She also cooks up onions nearly everyday, and smothers them in cheese. Or maybe I'm the one who smothers them in cheese. 

We both love onions and cheese. It's very good.

The family being photographed was there for nearly the entire time I was painting. And I felt a little sorry for the kids, and wondered if I should go over there with a cat, or some thing to help them smile, instead of cry.  

So, in my short post. I thought I'd share a little video of my sister’s carrot penny whistle she reinstated in honor of doing a program for bird Center. And it was really cute. All the old people were so tickled to hear a carrot make music.

And so I suppose if a carrot can make music, there is hope for us all.

A carrot sounds quite beautiful.

A musical garden.

Veggies. All with potential music inside of them.

I was also going through my different saved files, and found this one, I wrote July 22 this year. And thought I'd share it here. 

 

 

Owl poetry

 

Where has my poetry gone?

Drifted somewhere on the wind.

Caught by another’s muse.

Poetry come back to me.

Oh bird, of song, and love, and music.

Where did’st thou fly?

Bird of thought, bird of my soul’s sky.

I search for you within myself.

And look, but cannot find.

Bird why hast thou stopped singing?

Ah...

Tis night.

Where birds sit still, and few stir.

But one bird.

Still makes a song.

Sing, dear owl.

Say a word.

Speak your wisdom, and tell me what you see.

Speak your owl poetry to me.

Within the folds of darkness, and evenings tranquility.

You who watch within the dark, you who travel under the star’s and the moons natural spark.

Sing your song, and hoot to me.

Say something true, sing the night away.

Owl.

Seek, and pray.

Find the path.

Fly, and look.

And tell me what you see.

Owl wisdom.

A song written for me.

You turn your head, and see in dark.

Owl

If your eyes could compose a song. It would show me, the night’s beauty, a star-spangled emporium.

The light.

Within.

a spark.
 

Caroline Jones - Rise

 

Still waters

 

Last night the stars were so beautiful.  The air has been very cool. And Bess and I are wondering how long we can keep sleeping out doors. 

 It's funny because our neighbor, photographer has discovered our little patch of land between our house. The little wilderness we always walk, and wonder in, right across from our tents. And over the summer, there has been so very many people there. She and whoever she photographs spends many much time there, and it's quite amusing to watch. And a little bit noisy. And sometimes I like to nap in my tent, so I feel a little odd when a whole crowd of people are just right across the way.

There has been cute little babies, and parents. 

Beautiful Horses, and horse riders being photographed. 

Brides.

Babies yet to be hatched.

Cute mommies, and daddies, and children.

Whole bunches of families. Crowds. 

A big family of Latinos. 

Sunday there were caravans of people, arriving in batches. One a tennis team, and another crowd.

It's been a lot.

A lot a lot. 

Rather funny. And strange.

Bess and I wonder if we should start a lemonade stand. Or something. It's really very curious.

The other day I was out painting, a lady asked me to paint a scene from minidoka topaz interment camp. So I was outside painting, and all of a sudden I hear a people.

And sure enough, there was big family across the way being photographed.

I kept on painting, and then peering over, curious to watch the scene.

Curious that so many people have found our spot, and now it's quite a busy little place.

And rightly so. It's very beautiful. And the lighting there is magical. 

And nature has always been beautiful.

Today Bess and I did another program for the Bird center. And it went well. My favorite part was when we sang  Edelweiss. Everyone joined in, and I could feel my heart warm up, and saw some wiping of eyes. 

They also asked us to sing, Oh, Holy night.

Bessie's real good at that song. She was going to sing in a higher key.

But decided to sing in a key everyone could sing in. And I'm glad she did.

So she stared singing it, and everyone joined in.

   That was real nice. 

   We just got tired, but wired. So many people wanted us to look at them, and to hear their stories all at the same time.

 So to cool off, we dipped into the icy canal, which was only about knee high. But it was just what we both needed. The sun was warm, and it felt so good.

I feel much better.

And there’s been such curious energy.

I don’t know how you could describe it and sound like a sane person.

Let’s just say, I feel like I’m getting so much feedback from everything.

 Energetic feedback. And I don’t quite understand it all. 

So it feels so muchy, sometimes.

And so beautiful.

And sometimes very intense.

Sometimes it feels like I’m feeling my way through life. 

    And my heart is trying to understand things.

    Trying to take the next right step.

Then I think I know. Then I wonder did I do, say, post, write, the right thing?

        Sometimes I look at trees, and think they have it right.

        Or birds.

        They just be what they be, and are so connected to God, they are perfectly a tree, and perfectly a bird.

            How I wish to be.

            To have clear seeing.

            But maybe as we sometimes take turns being the foot, or the hand, or the eye, or the bellybutton of God's body.

            It gives us humiltiy, and unique perspective on all that is seen from those places.

            Or the armpit.

            Or the colon.

             Or the kidney that has to filter things.

            The liver.

            The lungs.

            The heart.

            The eyes.

            All taking turns getting feedback.

            Getting a knowing from all these places.

            An understanding.

            And as we learn to see from all those perspectives. It is a huge gift, and sometimes very difficult.

And it feels, we have all taken tuns being Ann Sullivan or Hellen Keller, in this learning of life.

   And of seeing.

    And of being. 

    And of doing.

    And of loving.

    And looking.

    And listening.

    And feeling.

One day a Teacher.

And another day a Student.

Back and forth.

And maybe it’s supposed to be that way.

So we know how to better see ourselves, and each other.

With kindness, humility, and that of a student. And sometimes that of a teacher.

And both, waiting for a shaft of light to touch our hand, and wake us up to what we could not understand.

Helping those who have no way of knowing, no hope of escaping the confines of their cell.

          To grasp a hand.

          And many of us have been in the place where our understanding was very small.

          We, like Hellen Keller grasp at the cake at the table, and hold it close, snatching things here and there, off of other people’s places, unawares, never really seeing, or hearing, or knowing.

          Waiting for the light of understanding.

          Primal in our living, when we could be so very much more.

          But without light, without a teacher.

          We couldn’t see.

          And then spirit comes.

          Takes our hand.

          Helps us to see.

          Leads us to the light. To the source of water.

          Feel it.

          Know it. Sunlight.

          Feel it, know it.

          This is water.

          Drink it.

          It has a name.

          Feel it.

          Here feel my hands, and the shapes they make.

          Water.

          It has a name. This beautiful wonderful, liquid.

          We might have to have the spiritual Ann Sullivans of this world show us a million times, before we understand the meaning behind it all. Before understanding shows us what we’ve been missing.

          And we’ve been missing so much.

          And to be a teacher, one must have great compassion and patience, and higher seeing to understand that most of us all have been that blind, most of our lives. Groping, grasping, seeking.

          Until someone wakes us up.

          Forgives us for what we didn’t know.

          Loves us enough to open up our hearts.

And when we finally know, and our world view expands into some broader scope, where there is meaning, and beauty, and life, and light, and goodness to be found in everything.

And all our lives.

Spirit as been there.

The oneness.

Leading us.

In the most smallest increments, to our hearts.

Taking our hand, a bit at a time.

Here a word.

Here is some grace.

See.

Follow the light.

Here is a truth.

Follow the thread.

Follow your heart.

See how blind we have all have been.

And moment by moment, spirit teaches us what love is.

Feel it.

Know it.

Hold it.

Here a truth, love it.

Grasp my hands. And see.

Here is a bit of grace.

Here is a word.

This is all beautiful words are really. A bit of love, written down, a shaft of light in the dark. Showing us a way out of our own darkness.

A warm, beautiful word to remember, that we are not alone.

Even when it is darkest.

Love appears, and shows you grace upon grace.

Kindness upon kindness.

God is love. God is beautiful. God is good.

God is in us, and with us, and in all things. Loving us all the time.

And I suppose, that if that is all I ever said.

That would be a truth, worth saying over and over.

God’s love is real. And how beautiful to know it.

We may not have known it before, or been able to feel it or understand.

But it finds us when we need it most.

A spark.

Courage.

Light.

Grace.

          And it grows, and lights other candles along the way.

And it reveals itself again, and again.

We might have to have the water pour over us, again and again, before we understand.

Before we know.

Before all that we collected on our journey is washed away, and the real appears.

 Here is water.

Here is a word.

Feel it.

Know it.

That beyond all the hard bits of life, we are all helping to light the way back home.

Remembering a bit at a time, the face, the shape, the color, the feeling, the remembrance of love, unconditional. The Body of Christ. Remembering what it is like be like to be in the presence of the divine, of the beloved. 

       

Our friend Amelia just texted me this Beautiful song, a moment ago. 

Yes, the lord is my Shepard. 

And he always leads me besides still waters.