Thursday, August 15, 2013

Summer Dream Time

 I choose to drop in - seated in the adirondack chair.Dropping into my Heart. Feet bare, planted in theAugust grass. Listening to the crickets and the trees talking breeze. I feel the sun's warmth on my legs as I let my breath deepen.Inquiry?Why can I become so shaken by my list of things to do?This feeling of no power to get things done on time. When, even ifthey don't, life will still go on and most of it will happen as planned.I live by the calendar with hand scratched appointments and a sense oftime moving way to fast.


I need this grounding time. Connecting deep through my feet chakras. I hear children yelling in the background, their summer almost near end. A pleasant memory comes of years past with picnics on the grass and tents made from blankets strung between two trees. And popsicles dripping down your hands.  Screaming as you run through the cold water sprinkler in the back yard.


My Wisdom Speaks....
"It's time to find a bit of shade and sun to spread your
 imaginary wings and just lay upon the earth,
 for soon the winds of change will run cold and back in
inside we will Be. Cozily making soup and painting pretty things.
So now take a pillow and blanket if you must, but bring yourself
 down onto the earth and close your eyes and listen.
Listen to the peace that holds you, that caresses you as you "Let Go"
of all the silly "must do's". You can save the world tomorrow.
 But today save yourself for just a few minutes - remember why
 you are here. To Touch, to feel, to laugh and cry just like you
 did as a child. Wiggle your toes, look up to the sky and dream
 for just awhile. And then get up refreshed and amused and
 loved by the wise Muse deep inside."

2 comments:

  1. Very nice, Mother! Yessss I can still remember the utter bliss of running through the sprinkler on hot summer days and Popsicles and don't forget the slip n slide! Kids are good at making time for fun and just being...we have to constantly remind ourselves to find ways to return to those moments of innocence ...

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