Forest Monk

There is actually such a thing as a Forest Monk. Because the Universe loves me and wants me to be happy.

 

Summer Names

June, the month without roses now known as "Lotus," saw Writing & Workshops.

July was "Thunder" and "Corn," filled with court cases and cover letters.

August shall be known as "Lightning" or "Snake." I think I'm going to remove all deadlines and due dates until September, the month of "Singing," "Barley," or "River."

The Way stretches before me, and I don't need much on this journey. I don't know quite where the road leads, just yet, but I'm betting that there will be flashes of lightning along the way. 

In the meantime, I'm focusing on resting, healing, and knitting. It seems ridiculous to think that I need to slow the pace down, but one of the things I learned in T'ai Chi was that when you think you know how to do a move, try doing it as slow as you can, then even slower than that. 

I miss T'ai Chi.

One of the insights of 2020 for me has been to discover what I miss most from The World That Was. The list is different from what I thought it would be. More than ever I'm thinking about going up a mountain and not coming back. The Cabin In The Woods calling. I have a lot of gratitude these days and I don't feel I need more than I have, or the need to rush about and do more, be more, learn more. I'm enjoying reading, taking the conversation wherever it leads me, from Jon Krakauer to William James to Parker Palmer to James Joyce. It's a fine meandering. 

There is less physical writing lately, and more knitting and still thoughts on simplicity. August always has been a time of gathering inward for me. It feels like a time to sweep up and clean out. August is the month of lightning, but also of lighten-ing, a time for walking with the Spirit and letting go of the map, for listening and for being led.

Transformation

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
— Kahlil Gibran