Shine the Divine:

Creativity IS a Spiritual Practice

When we see through our hearts, we recognize that every single one of us is infused with creativity. Divine Sparks are embedded in everyone and everything. It's up to us to be courageous, to look and listen deeply, to find the sparks, gather and release them back into the universe, transformed into something new. Join me as we wake up to the sacred-ordinary blessings waiting to greet us each and every day.

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Sunday, March 14, 2010

Hineni: Here I am

I returned from my Tysabri infusion Friday afternoon, tired but awed by the sky, bleak though it was; a gray, melancholy veil obscuring the sun and hanging over the ground, now freed from winter's snow. I walked into the house picked up my camera and took it back outside with me. Just for a short walk around the yard, I promised my body. My bed was beckoning me, but sleep could wait a few more minutes. Photography offers me time to just be present to what I see and feel. It is a form of meditation. An awareness came to me: the earth is doing the very same thing as me today; dwelling, being, soaking up the medicine, trusting the sprouts to push through on their own, for they will emerge exactly when they are supposed to. There is no rushing spring. There is no forcing creation. There is no hastening healing. There is only now; no denying past or future, but here I am, hineni, cloaked in clouds. Waiting? Not today. Today I am simply being. Expectant? OK, perhaps a little...so that would be waiting, hmmm. No. I dug through the moist soil (of my mind) with my own hands, I have planted my heart deep. My heart is content at this moment in the darkness, safe, beating rhythmically…steady, steady, in time with nature. Aligned with chiyuut, life force. No anger swelling today, no tears brimming. Quiet contentment. I looked up and shot the photo above, I looked down and discovered this:

I am the heavy sky
the dark soil
tender shoots

full blossoms

sun-dried flowers
seeds spilled

rains of autumn

snow of winter

roots descending

I am this moment

awakening.

I found this too:


still life
upon the ground
life still
growing around
death
a fragile bird
decaying
becoming
the new
verdant
grass


*This post was inspired by Kathleen's post Essential Melancholy.

23 comments:

  1. I'm drawn to skeletons (dont't like bits of flesh, I need the decay to have happened already) don't know why! Just left you a comment on last post & I'm due to write on mine sometime today. We must have been writing at the same time, all these miles apart:)

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  2. Very nicely said, Laura. I'm not sure if you realize it, but the first part of your post is a poem as well.
    Judy

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  3. Hi Emma...I get such a warm happy, the worlds a wonderful place feeling whenever someone from far away, mystical sounding place (like the Isle of Skye!!!) drops by. I'm not a rotting flesh girl either (being a vegetarian and all) but that little fragile bird called to me...mesmerized me a bit and I had to take his photo and write about him.

    Hi Judy,
    Thank you...coming from a haiku artist such as yourself that is high praise!

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  4. Very interesting post in words and pictures, reminding us of the fact that death and life are always intertwined and that one cannot exist without the other.
    Your sensitivity to everything you experience always shines through your writing.
    Have a lovely Sunday,
    xo
    Zuzana

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  5. Beautiful post...and the combination of photos more than the sum of its parts...

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  6. Hi Zuzana thank you...everything is completely intertwined...hard to imagine when I was younger, at least on the level I can see it now...I guess I had an inkling then...I hope to be able to look back in another 20 years and understand more (or perhaps less?)...I could just be fooling myself here.

    Hi Dr. Jay, thanks your kind words always lift me up.

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  7. Beautiful thoughts today, with such a clear view of life. I too love looking at my subjects through the lens of a camera. Somehow it often does give a deeper perspective focused that way.

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  8. Like you I find the practice of taking photos to be very meditative. It is a way to "be here now." Beautiful post - I love your photography and words.

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  9. aw, YOU are alive and well, too!
    thanks for the visit, and prompting me to come see you. what an extraordinary post weaving your
    beautiful poems taken from your eye's gathering and sharing.

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  10. Your photos caught the full circle of life, didn't they? Beautiful!

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  11. When I'm out photographing my little part of the planet, I find it so relaxing. My mind clears, my focus becomes concentrated on capturing what I'm experiencing in the moment...as you did so beautifully with the bird.

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  12. Fabulous photographs...the post captured your mellow mood.

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  13. thank you all for dropping by, for your kind words, for connecting....that's what it all comes down to I think...connecting.
    xoxo

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  14. Greetings Laura,

    I can understand when the body is tired and the mind has other ideas.

    Like a recent trip I just had, which ended up being one of the best day in many years, and by the end of it, I was exhausted. Still, no medication could have compared to making me feel better than the day I experienced.

    Though the image of the bird is a sad one, it is life.

    I thank you for sharing your journey with us.

    Warmest regards,
    Egmont

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  15. every death brings a birth... this sure is a melancholy post, yet beautiful it is too.

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  16. Laura you are so right about these blog spaces being about connecting

    contemplative photography is also something i enjoy, which is part of the reason i've connected with you here :)

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  17. i wonder if i've been feeling a bit low and restless (odd combination, i know), because our snow hasn't really melted yet and i haven't seen much of the unfolding that is spring, right when i'm feeling a need to unfold.

    thanks for the thoughts and for reminding me to be present, even if just for a moment.

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  18. Your inner peace pervades and deepens each observation. I loved these harbingers of spring. Thanks for expressing such beauty.
    S.

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  19. Your photo of the leaves poking through the soil give me hope that the same signs in my flower beds are not illusions. We may actually see spring in March this year. Your poems are beautiful, as well.

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  20. such beautiful imagery and the poetic words-- depicting the cycle of life- death and decay back to life - circular and renewing.

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  21. Lately I've been thinking of photography as a sort of meditation too. A means of focusing on the simple things.

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  22. Those pictures moved me, as did your ability to stand in contented energy and just "be." You inspire and uplift me through your journey here on earth, which I'm so honored to share in your writings.

    ~Much love~Much gratitude~

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  23. The poems are both extremely beautiful, Laura. Thanks you for sharing them.

    xo

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