This past week I scheduled a morning to write.  Releasing responsibilities not my own and slowing my pace to insert time for what truly feels inspiring to me has opened new space for connecting more deeply with my heart.  Taking breaks in the midst of writing is a kindness I have found necessary for my brain to breathe.

After an hour or so I decided to do something different.  I stepped outside to try a new exercise, one suggested by our son.  Standing on my back porch with jumprope in hand my senses took in the scenery that surrounded me.  The green and the jumping felt refreshing and silly (I think the last time I jumped rope was decades ago!)

Afterwards, I sat in the sunshine.  The quiet gave me space to breathe in what was happening all around and inside me, a sense of ‘greening’ in the now.  The wind was crazy, bending the 20 foot bamboo trees in all directions.

I noticed the patches of grass.  They looked like islands floating haphazardly on a sea of dirt, some barely touching and others overlapping each other.  Vibrant shades of forest, lime and shamrock greens mingled together with browns in the sunshine.  Green onions  growing wild in some of the patches gave my senses a ‘kick’ of something different.  On the baker’s rack leaning against a yellow stucco wall small shoots of green were rising in tiny plastic cups of dirt – new lemon trees birthing from seeds planted last month.

The dirt and the grass, the hanging pots bearing the remains of dead plants and a barrel full of brown stems that were once lovely Christmas poinsettias became more noticeable against the backdrop of green.  Death and life mingled together all at once.  I could not resist joining in the greening going on in my yard.

I slipped my hands into my garden gloves and began emptying pots, cutting, separating, tossing, repotting, planting and saving small shoots of green that remained alive after this year’s freeze.  I noticed a hanging plant the roots of which had burst through the plastic pot that could no longer contain it.  I pulled it off its hook and emptied it onto my potting table to separate it into two new pots.  I pulled, I tugged, I cut and finally retrieved a machete to sever the roots.  They released into two heaps ready for planting.

New beginnings.  New Life in the Release.

I was struck by the image of one seed bearing two plants and the separation necessary for each to grow in its own space.  As I take time to slow down and connect more deeply with my heart I am feeling inspired to write, to dream, to play and risk with undaunted Hope.

I wrote this poem after my jumprope and potting experience…

Towering bamboo trees sway haphazardly

surrendering their strength

to an unseen wind

Hands dig in soil,

heart and earth broken yet birthing

Budding trees reach toward the sky

 To unseen love and grace, they rise

Nature speaks

Peaceful yet radical submission to their Creator’s will

Old and new together in the potter’s hands

What remains is now, this moment of revelation

Breathe in now.  Lungs filling, breath leaving.


Thoughts intrude

Problems, relationships, health, work, play, money, stuff

But there is a small buzzing in your heart

Could it be the hum of Hope Rising?

You feel it, your hand opening in surrender of

 your YES!

You let go of everything but this moment of grace.

 That’s when you realize

Love has loosed something new in the ease of slow.

Now you feel it.

A holy embrace that inspires Love.

You rest aware

Your life is growing in love in this moment because

Love is present

and is birthing and greening new life in you.

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