Ginger and Mushrooms

Suddenly, Hyacinth! Tufts of Easter pastels held in green cradles anchor a deeper meaning in high holy days.

Wild fermented sour dough bread with a cup of dawn tea. I prepare to trip sit for Monicat by walking a labyrinth of prayer through emerging tulips, daffodils and morning glories. I wear comfortable clothes and pack headphones, poetry books and a notepad. She asks me to bring ginger root and the request makes me realize I'd like to grow it myself this year. Ginger and mushrooms.

In the prayer, desire to let go of ego causes a little weeping. I'm happy despite the process. I'm present despite the detours.

Lately I recognize my deepest feelings of self and spiritual longing in the natural world. A desire to express language and a certain ecological sensibility fuels the attention of what is both indescribably beautiful and increasingly degraded in my personal and global environment. The contemplative tradition pulls me towards an ancient root system and its future seeding.

The fragrance is intoxicating.

It is more than an awareness of the northern cardinal in pines, the purpling hyacinth emoting a deeper spirituality, or the temptation to run into the woods for six months and live in closer union with that which never dies. It is the ability to be aware of the Healing Presence itself within the living, natural things...all the things...all the people. It is the arrival beyond physical phenomena unto that which is within.

teacups of dawn
over hesitant
tulips –
our compass
reveals entire lifetimes
in one wrong turn

The clear gold and apricot of Narcissus and sunrise on the third day. Grey is the price I will always pay.