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Beauty Along the Roa… on Landscapes of the Heart AJ on Landscapes of the Heart AJ on Dancing Reflections Grey Wolf on Feathered Days Grey Wolf on Feathered Days
Author Archives: bydda88
Landscapes of the Heart
I’ve come across love letters, old ones, written me many many years ago. Those times when you’d have to wait days and even weeks for a letter to arrive. I’d be poised, held in and up by moments that stretched … Continue reading
Dancing Reflections
The dance between, in and out of balance; wherever we go, we are, runs the Buddhist saying. Here the Valley of the Gods, just out of Medicine Bow in Utah, the car that got us there, the warm sunny day, … Continue reading
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Tagged awe, balance, choreography, shape changers, Valley of the Gods, wonder
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Feathered Days
I like to watch the sparrows in the garden. How they dart about, chatter amongst themselves, all fly off in the one, sudden moment, return later, one or two, then more, come back to pick for food, drink from the … Continue reading
Cloud Speak
Clouds, that shifting choreography in the sky, wispy, runic, rippling, changing, Clouds as portents, omens, hints, signs of direction, currents, particular landscapes. Clouds rich with story. Those rolling thuderclouds in the American South West; the busy chatter of clouds in … Continue reading
Healing Spaces
The body remembers. It’s a library of our lives. It offers so many opportunities to listen to it, yet so often we ignore it in our so-called ‘time poor’ days, until something goes ‘wrong’. And we are forced to stop. … Continue reading
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Paths
Whatever afflicted me in Vietnam still lingers. It’s been hard to write, do much. I’ve had to rest frequently, converse little, socialise even less, do things in very small steps. Listen to my body, rather than pushing it to do … Continue reading
Awen
Through the darkness, light shimmers; that dance between landscape, sky and individual being. Sometimes we are carried in a cup of light when we least expect it. Perhaps that cup is always there; we just don’t see it. But life … Continue reading
Songs of the Moon
Drift in, notes, the songs of the moon, sometimes afloat in the memory that is blood, others that still light hugging the window when the curtains are left undrawn, and the shadows of old buildings, stone walls, a river’s murmur, … Continue reading
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Tagged deaming trail, imagination, light, murmur, old buildings, Port Elliot, remembering, sea, Seal Rock, south coast, stone walls, travel, vacation, window curtains, writing
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