Thursday, March 28, 2013

Blessed


              Blessed

I sink my roots ever deeper
into this land, this mountainside
of old orchards and pine forest, 
this small portion of earth,
rock-face, snowberry, saskatoon,
coyote, raven, chickadee, deer.
In the quiet before dawn, after
that noisy bird chorus of celebration - 
another day - oh joyous miracle! - after
light bathes and inflames the peaks,
after the fire settles to work, warming
the house, soft creaks of pipe, snap of fire,
and before the sun climbs down
to my house nestled in frosty meadow
I wait. And then
it comes
soft as breath of a lover waking
the sleeping beloved, gentle as warm water
added to a cooling bath, tender as a father's 
kiss on the fontanel of new-born babe...
Little by little the room expands,
light tiptoes in and then blooms
'til it breaks open a flood
the room golden in a wash of
sun and morning, and outside a blue sky
high and delicious. And oh, this explosion 
of bird bodies, stitching that pristine
arch, welcoming the shimmer of life!

                                        © 03.24.2013    Gyllian Davies

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Messages worth paying attention to...

What an amazing ten days has just passed... I've definitely been living in the realm of the Big Journey. 


It began with a deep conversation with the Bishop after church. Later, that evening,I headed out to a friend's. As I was going down my outside steps in the dark, I was savouring how well I could see by moonlight, plus the ambient light reflected from the snow all around. So bright I had no need for a flashlight.

The next thing I knew, as I stepped onto the bottom step - whoosh! - I went down. I had chopped the ice off that step the day before. But while I'd been gone during this day, temperatures rose, snow on the deck melted, dripped down onto that step... As evening came, the mercury began its slow drop into the freeze of night, and the ice formed. By moonlight the step looked the same as when I had cleared it. Not! Down I crashed.


The next morning I went downstairs with some files to put away. To my astonishment I found myself sloshing through water. What on earth!?!  Turns out the hot water tank had given up the ghost. Hmmm

First the old towels laid everywhere to sop up the wet.Then, back upstairs to go look up high-efficiency tanks on the internet. At which point... my computer crashed. With a terse message on the screen that is had zero memory left, it announced "Good-bye!", and that was that.  

I was the recipient of messages from the Universe:
Get in contact with the GROUND...-
Immerse myself in the WATERS...
And finally, close off from the outer world, the global connection of the internet, and go inside for my answers. All of them! 
TURN INWARD...

I got the message.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

the blessings of physicality


This morning as I’m pumping the bellows to coax my neglected fire back to life and heat, I muse on the blessing of physicality...  

Often as I use my sweet bellows, I think of my parents. I’m sure my mum found these very bellows on one of their trips. My dad rarely used the fireplace after my mum died, but the  the image of him in his favourite chair, fireplace and bellows nearby, is clear and strong.  

Using my body in partnership with the bellows, I draw the memory of those two people into my body with the pumping, savouring the connection between the times they were used by my parents, and this time, here and now as I use them. Though they never spent time with me in this house, I feel their presence in the room.

Other times as I use the bellows, it’s my friend Sheilagh that pops into my heart, and her delight when I found her a set of bellows too. The next time I talked with her, she was so excited about how much easier it was to deal with her reluctant wood stove. As I pump the fire back to life I think of her, engaged in the same task on the other side of the mountain, and I savour our friendship and our shared pleasure with this simple machine. Yum.

The blessing of physicality comes again every Sunday in the closing prayer at our little Anglican church. Each week, as I speak the words, I think of a dear cousin, who also loves that prayer, saying those same words, several hours earlier out on the prairies. Feeling our shared response to the prayer, the words pour even more sweetly from my mouth...
            “Glory to you, oh Lord,
             whose power working in us
             can do infinitely more
             than we could ask or imagine...” 

It all comes back to these wonderful bodies we've been given with which to live our lives, and to do infinitely more than we could ask or imagine - isn't it true? When I trained as a Live Your Vision® facilitator, as part of the process we drew out of ourselves a spanking new version of our own Vision and Purpose. The words of mine spark and sizzle in me every time I speak them...
My purpose is to illuminate, cherish and celebrate 
the shimmering gift of Life and the sacred body of Earth.

And how better to cherish Earth’s sacred body than with these blessings linked to my  body memories!