Photo Journal

Morning Ritual

When we do what we love, again and again, our life comes to hold the fragrance of that thing.

Wayne Muller

I wake in the dark of morning

and wherever in the world I am -

I walk outdoors.

Morning calls.

I feel the breath of it

on my skin,

hear its music,

the sound of waking birds,

filling my ears.

My mind is quiet.

Worry has not woken.

Only wonder walks with me,

as I watch the moon

departing,

and the first light of dawn

breaking over the fields;

into the trees.

No matter what the day

before has brought me -

No matter what dreams

haunted my sleep -

I wake in the dark of morning

and wherever in the world I am

I walk outdoors.

Morning calls.

Sunrise through barbed wire and a thorny vine

I hear the sound of birds singing above me

Texas sun blazing through the bare oak branches

A starling sings from the top of the utility pole, silhouetted against the gradually lightening sky.

Every morning it’s a little different - a haze on the horizon softens the edges of light

A big buck staring across the field toward the rising sun

Above the trees in the big Texas sky

The sacred is not in heaven or far away. It is all around us, and small human rituals can connect us to its presence. And of course the greatest challenge (and gift) is to see the sacred in each other.

Alma Luz Villanueva

I had to make a road trip to Texas this week - it was quickly thrown together, and it could have felt rushed and stressful, except for my daily pre-dawn walk outdoors. There is always this quiet time before the sun rises, when I can be outside and walk in peace, before worries or plans begin to fill my mind. I go out in cold, in rain, in snow, in wind, in heat -whatever the weather. It is harder to do somedays than others, but I never regret doing it. It is a ritual that comforts me by making every place I go feel familiar. Wherever there is a morning, I am home.

Hope your week was beautiful too. See you next week.

The waning moon in the early morning hours, just before sunrise in Texas

Going Home again

Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.

Terry Pratchett

an unexplained ruin in Joshua Tree

my last desert hike

I stumbled on a ruin

crumbling into dust

and realized I was ready to go home

home again - water everywhere

home where water flows freely

pussy willow blossoming

where spring blossoms riot - bursting through their skins

Allium breaking through

Narcissus looking down

where narcissus is already in full bloom

Ferns unfurling

where the forest floor fills with ferns

single-minded squirrel

where squirrels sneak up to steal suet

living in the land of tulips

where the silky tulips glisten

swimming silently by

and silent mallards swim

lily of the valley

where lily of the valley is wet with dew

solitary tree on the edge of the dunes, overlooking the channel

and a single tree keeps vigil over the grassy dune.

Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

I loved the magic of Joshua Tree, but I am so happy to be back home. I am grateful that you are here with me.