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.


Tuesday, July 2, 2013

No Photos Today

Head bowed witnessing the broth of life and death tumbling tiny heart-shaped pebbles onto the beach, same stretch I'd trod less than twenty-four hours before. Choosing a few stones, to cradle in my left fist, firm for safekeeping. Walking on, knowing nothing is as safe as we wish it could be. Uncertainty; a stain we live with, dark oily patterns, dangerous beauty painted on the surface of sands shifting ceaselessly, visible residue revealing the force of tidal energy and fate. 

No photos today.

Just yesterday a murmuring was heard rising above the hush,
(--that is what the ocean says if you really listen, “hush”)
waves crashing and people stood still in ragged lines,
near frantic lifeguards fluttering flags like angry
birds rapid semaphore up and down the coast
as the white fin sunk lower in slow motion,
imagine an enormous shark, then
the wing of a small plane tipped
upward in the cold vast sea.
Two men swallowed
a mile off shore.
We watched
no flags,

I walked the jagged edge of waterline cautious as children darted in and out of the ocean. My eyes searching for parents, wanting them near, my own mother-fear longing to protect blond ringlets and mops of auburn hair clinging to soft ruddy cheeks, insulate them from uncertainty, that stain we all must live with, sinking in slow motion with a white fin remembered. Once those men were someone’s children. Tears slipped down my face dried instantly carried away to join the broth of life and death, giver of tiny heart shaped pebbles, smoothed by time, the force of tidal energy and fate. 

No photos today.

I know I said I would only offer I Heart Macro posts for the next few weeks, taking care of business, but sometimes the words flow, a self-healing balm when my heart is aching. It was one small plane. Two people. I did not see it fall from the sky, the roaring hush of the ocean and thoughts in my head were too loud. But I did see the wing jutting up through the waves several blocks down and a mile out to sea, around 4pm on the first of July. There are so many sad things in the world, many happening to friends, people I love, challenges I hold close to my heart in prayer with deep compassion. Sometimes the distance granted in writing about strangers (who don't feel so separate or strange, having felt the power of group astonishment after such an event) allows release from the other sadness’s I cannot share; that would be inappropriate to announce publicly. We are at the beach for our annual kids week gathering, sister-mothers and our now mostly grow-up cousin "kids." I do have the pebbles I collected; perhaps I will photograph them and upload them when I return home. We’ll see what feels right later, for now they are little vessels of sacred memory for me. 

Tell everyone you love that you do. Tell them every day. Even if they are mad at you and you're not sure why, or you're angry with them and the reason in this moment seems clear. Just tell them anyway.

gentle steps,

linking to: 


  1. I can feel the enormity of this event, Laura. You have written it beautifully. I love that the pebbles are "little vessels of sacred memory" for you.

  2. Thank you for revealing your heart Laura. Though no photos, this is a macro/emotional piece. In spite of all the sadness we know that exists, when it comes so close we feel it magnified. My virtual hug goes out to you.

  3. I LOVE YOU LAURA! Your writing is written by your heart and soul, but is only a glimpse of the awesomeness that is indeed you.

  4. the combo of kids and water made me feel uneasy for a long was a mad fear and i'm not quite sure what the source was... a very emotional write laura and the lack of photos makes your words even more palpable

  5. geez....that is some scary stuff...the moment with the shark...the crash of the plane...intense...we never know when these moments will happen that just take us...and os true on telling those we love...every day

  6. A captivating and great read.. the plane the image of sharks, and a terrible accident. A lovely form and prosaitic write. Great.. and the ties to reality.

  7. Oh, Laura, this is heart-wrenching and so beautifully expressed. I don't know how to say it...the broth of life and death, indeed. You've managed to bring us on that shore with you, to share the tragic moments.

  8. Laura, such sadness. Death is such a large thing....and no flags even. This is something I never care to witness....wish wouldn't happen at all.

  9. What a tragic thing to witness, I cannot even imagine :(

  10. It comes off from the heart. It is morbid when death comes around. And you've done it very well. The photos that are not here but so brilliantly taken are awaited for the next time!


  11. Oh those poor men and their families.... Michelle

  12. Respectful and mournful - a loving tribute, Laura ~ M

  13. A heartfelt post, thank you for sharing.

  14. Newest follower....I too always look anxiously for parents of children I see playing in the shallow water at the shore. My good friend lost a child in her care due to inattention many years ago. So sorry to hear about the men swallowed up. What a tragic way to die, the effects rippling far and wide.

  15. So sad for you all, what a tragedy.

  16. I have fond memories of Ocean City. May your happy memories temper the sadness you feel. I tell each one of my kids "love you" at the end of every phone conversation ~ too often over too many miles. Safe travels as you head north on Sunday ~

  17. Thank you for this heartfelt piece through the merging of unnatural and natural share the interconnection and imagery that is death. Blessings and (((peace))) to those knowing grief in this moment.

  18. What a poignant piece, and written with your emotions so apparent. You honor those who have left us...and those who remain to pick up the pieces of their lives.



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