This post is for all who put pen to paper to unfurl their minds in the service of illuminating darkness. A worthy and meritorious offering.
The Blog, Dew on The Grass writers have been thinking about Freedom these past days. Here is a poem that appears in a post published today:

Freedom is the unfurling of the hand of self,
finger by grasping finger

Feathers unfold, flutter, fly
Release into the stillness of an ocean sky

A vastness deep
Ripple upon ripple dissipates into the blue-black,
lit by an eternity of stars and moon

The warmth of coolness
The illumination of the night

By Karen Richards

Read the whole post here.

I believe this to be the first post on Dew on The Grass. Timely I’d say, to take another look.

winter sunset
sprayed amongst clouds —
the sound of wind through dry grass

Anonymous contribution (many thanks)

A little lightness and brightness amidst the storms. Merit to all who suffer, one way and another.

Evening in Scotland in December and in Northumberland taken by Mugo, Friday.

Here is a quote sent to me the other day. It’s part of an article published in 2018 in the magazine, Tricycle 2018. Seems topical!

In turning toward our pain there’s great freedom—a freedom that grounds us in our core of being. As we slowly but steadily undo our various ways of fleeing our pain, the energy we’ve invested in getting away from our pain—as opposed to simply being with our pain—is freed up, becoming available for us to use for truly life-giving purposes.
Robert Augustus Masters, “A Painless Present”

and here is an interesting thought from Wittgenstein.

You learned the concept ‘pain’
when you
learned language.
Ludwig Wittgenstein

The other day I was in conversation with a woman in Canada, via Zoom of course! We ranged over many areas of life, one being honouring our parents, as well as ageing, physical decline. Noting, not for the first time in my life and we agree, that ageing and physical decline do not automatically go together.

We talked specifically about what to do with family memorabilia – binning just doesn’t seem right. Burning stuff is sometimes the way to go. Doing something creative perhaps? Igniting the creative impulse and making something to hang on a wall? Art? I have a couple of box files, one for me and one for Rev. Master Jiyu. I call them my memory boxes, happy memory boxes. Now and then I’ll look through them, recycle some items, give some away and keep what’s left. Yes, and adding to the boxes too. Not doing anything more creative than just that.

While those random items we inherit generally have little or no value they are a tangible link with our past and have a ‘value’ that can’t be measured. Here they are, these dusty items, past present and future folding together as we direct ourselves into active living, moment to moment. Linear time and transcending linear time fold together. At the same time!

I received the following in an email shortly after Canada and Northumberland logged out of the Zoom conversation mentioned earlier.

While we talked I felt these upwellings of sorrow – and loneliness – and afterwards these words came into my mind,  ‘the sorrow wants a witness’ – that’s all!

So, I am the witness (sometimes others witness too) and also the ‘experiencer’. Somehow this was helpful, like being able to console ‘myself’ though the sorrow doesn’t seem personal, nor is it   ‘mine’.

Brilliant! And thank you to you and your ‘hubby’ for help and guidance on how I can help myself through current physical difficulty. I’m taking it less personally, it’s not ‘mine’!

Dwelling in empty
fields
of gratitude.

Join me…..