Happiness is Resting on Water

I noticed that I've been resisting to post because I have been waiting for that extra special something to take the main stage in my life. (Although going to college for a semester has put me "on stage.") On the other hand, there is this curious lightness of being in the air and a lack of eventfulness that is quite nice, actually. So I began to wonder… Why do I always harp so much about my search and desire for the inner calm, but when it actually comes my way, I easily dismiss it as unimportant or feel a little too plain within myself? The answer was in looking back on my pictures from Eden the other day. And right now it really feels as if I have been suspended by a calm and floating bliss: happiness is resting on water.

The reason I chose the image above is because it illustrates what I see from this state of "happy resting." From here I see my life as a beautiful collection of small compartments filled with seeds, gardens, trees, food, water, animals, rocks and soil. Some of these containers are filled with prettier parts, some have had more time to germinate, and some are more colorful than others. From this point of quietude though, I'm not choosing one thing to focus on. Instead, all these living boxes only prevail to form a big picture with a "You are Here" sign that places me on a trail-side map sign with random veins and arteries coming in.

Sure there are things that still need attention and work (piles of homework). Besides, we always feel the need to push forward no matter what, don’t we? If I could begin to tell you how that anticipation has burned and consumed me in the past few months and years. But not now. Now I am just sitting in this pool of tranquility, while all this other stuff remains out there to be solved, fixed and taken care of. Yet, I am content going on walks, taking the time to bake, watering the seedlings, loving my 2 hens, Luna and Night, eating mashed sweet potato yams and reading a magazine not pertaining to my classes. Not much indeed is happening. But somehow this mellowness warms me like the the floating sun on a winter-ish Friday. It rests on water, and it is enough. Love, Sharon

Life is such a Thin Ribbon

It was a soft fall evening when I arrived at West Clear Water Creek. The air was sweet with fragrance and the sun was still high enough to warm the back of my legs and bike. Sycamore leaves fell and drifted randomly as the flickers called out their heckled laughter and "swam" from tree to tree. All of life seemed touched by an energy which charged everything, including me.

I had a lot of time to think while I biked along a worn path, and most of my thoughts centered around my being too strong and independent for a certain someone. I could hear his voice still in my head, but I began to replace his words with a new kind of language, a kiss which didn't have anything to do with the cellular movement of these thoughts, but of someone else's. It was kinda weird. I felt a rage and so I tossed my bike down on the sand and released my energy in doing so. With this new language, a remembrance of things past flooded over me and I floated off to another time and another place. I discovered absolute freedom thinking myself out of my current existence and this shook me from my loneliness.

We over-analyze it and forget to reflect on love and the sacredness of life. Even when it's as thin as a ribbon, so fragile, but so easily transformed. I thought life is sacred even:
--in the middle of nowhere
--in lands that are ravaged
--in a homeless shelter
--in line at the bank (you're overdrawn at)
--in the darkness of our souls
--when you have one stupid cover pulled over your head.

And now at the level of my bike, the unforgiving pokes of the stones, withered leaves and decaying wood bits, I ironically guard the new fruit of a kiss, a kiss which is unfelt. I guard it so wrongly, the new love which needs no explanation. And when the time is right, I will bike out across the flattened creek path and through some sandy areas and burst open to feel that kiss and let kisses come in that are of love and beauty. They can be from this time, that time, or any other time; it's all the same.

Hope you have a sweet, thought-provoking Fall.. xo, Sharon Marzonie