I stand on a high hill
My past stretching out
Behind me
Before me
A vast cloudless blue sky
Full of new possibilities
I think of the fledgeling bird
As he takes his first flight
Does he wonder
If his wings will work?
Does he panic
Flapping furiously
Or does he
Stretch wings out wide
Dropping into their support
Gliding into the thermals
To soar!
Filed under Poetry
I sit on the forest floor
As the last rays of sunlight
Disappear over the horizon
Listening to the sounds
Of robins
And a canopy full of songbirds
All calling their good-nights
In the distance
A lone owl calls
Twilight deepens
And the birds grow quiet
The burble of the creek is more audible
And forms the melody for the evening
The sound of cars on the distant road
Crescendo and decrescendo in the background
It is to this music I sit and observe
The moss-covered log to my left
May form a bridge across the gully
For the light, four-footed inhabitants
Thin huckleberry branches arch overhead
Forming lace-like arbors
And right in front of me
Leaves growing low to the ground sway
In an almost imperceptible breeze
Filed under Outdoor Explorations, Poetry, Sacred Spaces
I recently received my layoff notice. It was not entirely unexpected. For fourteen months, I’ve known that my department would be re-organizing, and we learned along the way that we’d be re-applying for our jobs. Still, having that piece of paper suddenly moves rumors and speculation into a reality; a sometimes harsh reality.
This is not new territory for me. I’ve lost jobs before:
Through each of these events, I’ve leaned heavily on what I know how to do: IT Technical Support. I’m good at it. I also enjoy working with people, so answering a HelpDesk line works for me.
But I missed something in each of those experiences. I had an opportunity to really look inside and see what fulfills me; what makes me get up and want to trade my time for income; to reinvent myself. Honestly, in each case, I saw the end of the paycheck, and the lack of corresponding end to bills and expenses and I panicked. I got wrapped up in having to find a gig that pays “X” amount, so we can keep a roof over our heads, food on the table, the cats fed, bills paid, and the list goes on. Three times I stood at a junction elected not to take, as Robert Frost put it, the road less travelled.
So, here I am; looking at the necessity to re-apply for my job, knowing that there will be fewer employees in my department as a whole, and fewer specifically in my team. I have an opportunity here, again, to finally take that look inside myself. I have an opportunity to begin the process of re-inventing myself.
So, I find myself writing, frequently, in my journal. I’m asking myself questions; things like:
As Maurie and I talk about this, and what the future holds for us, all options are on the table as potentials…changing career paths away from IT? Maybe… Downsize everything and live a vagabond’s life (this is actually something we were already planning to do, just a couple of years down the road, once the debt is paid off)? Yep, that’s there too…Take a multi-pronged approach to earning a living? Another possibility…
Well, which will it be?
Where ever this takes Maurie and me, it will definitely be an adventure!
Filed under Random Thoughts
Gliding along
Low over the wave-tops
In a tight cluster of
Thirty or forty
Wings outspread
The black edges
In high contrast
With the pale brown
And white of their bodies
They dip out of view
And reappear perched
Like tiny statues
Atop the rocks
Filed under Poetry
In honor of the holiday, here are five ways you can tell it’s Valentine’s Day in Seattle
Filed under Humor
A Tree’s Face
The other day I sat beneath a tree
Leaning back against the trunk
And looking up through his branches
Watching the branches move in the wind
And listening to the leaves rustle
As I watched and listened, the tree spoke to me
It was so quiet…I almost missed it at first
He was telling me, if I listened closely
The things he liked
It was things like the weight of a child
Hanging from the branches while scrambling
To climb up higher
Looking for a better view
Or the way it tickles him
When squirrels and nuthatches
Scramble up his trunk
Their tiny claw gripping at the texture
He loves the sound of the birds in his branches
The raucus call of the crow or
The melody or a song bird, but especially
The hungry calling of newly hatched chicks in their nests
But most of all
He likes the simple, quiet apprciation
Which we show when we stop under his branches
Waiting and listening, for him to tell his story
Cormorants
Perched on old pier pilings
Or lined up on power cables
That trace the canal
Or standing sentinel over storm waves
Atop rocky outcroppings
As the sun breaks through thick clouds
You reach to your sides
Soaking in the warmth
Drying water from your wings
After your latest fishing trip
Parker fountain pen and Oberon journal
Well, I finished up my 30 days of poetry series on Thursday, January 31. When I started this off, I was quiet with it, and just started posting. It wasn’t until about two weeks into the effort that I announced what I was doing. I wanted to have a good running start with this, and get into a rhythm.
As I wrote, I found it was going really well. I had some concerns with whether or not I’d be able so sustain my pace; if I’d come up with things to write about. I guess this is something everyone starting to write goes through. The question of “Can I do it?” seems to loom overhead once we commit ourselves to something of consequence to us. Continue reading
Out on the corner
On the brick sidewalk plaza
In front of the old pawn shop
You make turns
And step slowly forward and back
Your hat in your hands
Goes to your head
And then off again
As you make your turns
And step slowly forward and back
Each morning I see you
In your morning ritual
I wonder to which music you dance
As you make your turns
And step slowly forward and back
I watch the ducks
As they court
And prepare
For the nesting season
Paired off on ponds
And the many branches
Of the creek that
Runs through the neighborhood
As I walk past
A female startles
Taking flight
And landing up the bank
Her mate makes me laugh
As he half flies
And half runs up the slope
Only to slide back into the water
Determined to protect his girl
He launches into the air
Calling loudly
Until he lands beside her
