I read a while back that the Dali Lama was stunned when he was told that people in the west suffer from the lack of self-love and acceptance. Since learning of this, he has said that it is vitally important that all people develop this inner source of love, and that until they do, they cannot advance spiritually. One must first be grounded in love of self before one can step up and genuinely love the rest of the world.
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Last night, I saw Jesus. It was a sweet, uplifting moment that came with the dawn glow over our side fence. Here is the story of sweet Jesus:
For the past year now, I’ve been feeding an unknown critter in my garden shed. I have a little hole in the rear of it, about the size of a cat door, and I set out a bowl or plate of something each night. Sometimes its a scoop of cat food. Sometimes apple cores and peels, or leftovers that have been in the fridge for too long… Continue reading
This winter, I decided to trim back even less of my garden when all the plants began their annual march from lush abundance, to spent sticks. As the palette in my yard shifted from greens to splashes of gold and bronze, then finally to shades of pewter, brown, and silver, the winter birds began arriving.
I don’t know if they’ve been this numerous in other years. Perhaps so, and I just never noticed it. But this year, I am noticing: juncos, wrens, goldfinches, chickadees arrived in chittering flocks to tease the seed heads of cone flowers and asters, goldenrod and bee balm. Continue reading
The bare trees clatter their branches together in the strong east winds on this chilly morning. Gone now are the whispered conversations of leaves, the soft hiss of green grasses bending in a summer breeze.
I always keep a handkerchief in my pocket now for when my nose starts dripping from the cold. I set my plans for the winter season almost two months ago, finishing up the last of my summer projects of bees and swarms, flowers and watering, weeding and composting.
The Eden of my backyard is a bit tattered-looking now, the tall grass heads and stands of asters, coneflowers, and black-eyed Susans scrapping their dried brown seed heads together while flocks of tiny birds hop about beneath them. For the birds and the insects, I’ve left pretty much everything standing this winter. I’ll do clean up in the spring when the seeds have fallen, the insects nesting in hollow stems have departed, and the birds have had their fill… Continue reading
When the going gets tough, handcrafts help. Weave, sew, mold, bake…
Sheesh, it took me a long time to get back to this! So, twenty-plus backyard swarms, tomato harvests, bird rescues, bee rescues, and many months of watering later, I am here to continue my reflection on finding balance in an insane world.
As I write this, the Ford-Kavanaugh debacle is in full swing. And it is making me crazy. And I am very frustrated that I have allowed myself to let this affect my mental and physical health, which it has. I even found myself drinking a beer last night (I’ve probably drunk five bottles of beer in my entire life…) to calm my shaky nerves.
I am frustrated with myself because this upheaval is no longer in accord with how I manage to stay sane in an insane world. This is how I manage my life for most-possible sanity and peace on a daily basis:
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Wing, my SunHive, hanging high in the Beethedral, my covered bee shed.
It’s been a crazy time up in my Beethedral this spring. We’ve had very wet weather ever since March, and I hoped that the bees would want to begin swarming from my four over-wintered hives as soon as they got a sunny day.
Well, they did. It’s been swarm city here at MillHaven for the past week. Some of the swarms have been business-as-usual, as my hives began pouring out exuberant, clouds of singing bees. Two of the swarms, I gathered into new skeps I wove over the winter. But the following swarms have left me scratching my head, perplexed… Continue reading
Bella sits patiently. I could use more of that patience stuff, myself!
Over the years, I’ve had many readers ask me how I keep sane in a world so full of unimaginable suffering. Having worked for several humane societies and wildlife centers over the years, I have seen no small share of animal suffering. I’m aware, as are most sane people, of the destruction of the planet, and the daily news broadcasts to us in blazing color what we are doing to each other, as well.
You, my readers, know that I see and feel the ache of the Earth. Many sensitive souls do, and finding our way to some kind of reconciliation with the world we see is no simple task. Peace and hope come slowly, over time, and achieving these blessings takes determined personal effort… Continue reading
With Solstice behind us, the light is circling back, yet we are still enfolded by the dark moons. I’ve always loved the cold months and the dim light. I’m a woman who likes cocooning and snuggling and pondering, and winter is a perfect season for such things.
Gardening chores and bee chores are done for the year, and the naked trees stand expectantly, waiting for spring to dress them in new finery. Rain drops chat softly with window panes, and every now and then a sharp, insistent wind screams dark and fierce up the Gorge… Continue reading
Hi Friends. While there are many, many places to put a few extra dollars these days (Irma, Harvey, Maria, Mexico…and the list goes on) I have a dream that is very big and that I would like to ask your help with.
My bee mentor, Jacqueline Freeman, and I have been invited to attend and speak at an international natural beekeeping congress in Holland next September. As you may imagine, foreign travel is not in my budget. Three nights at the coast is about as good as it gets for us in any given year. But as many of you know, bees have called me loudly and deeply these past few years, and Holland would be a dream-come-true in terms of the experts who will be there, exploring how to best care for bees in ways that are respectful and life-enhancing… Continue reading
Lady Mantis, in all her pregnant glory.
This past weekend, I remembered that I had a kitchen. It is a fact that escapes me for most of the summer months. Entranced by my garden and all of the precious tiny creatures who visit me in surprising fashion each day, food and cooking is the last thing on my mind from April to September.
Usually in September a day will come when the slant of the afternoon shadows finally touches me on the cheek, and autumn whispers a quiet greeting. When this moment happens—and each year it is, indeed, a precise moment when the realization that summer is leaving hits me—I take a sharp inhalation and murmur, “Oh… Oh.”… Continue reading
