secret field of flowers

I went to the Wellspring. I was liquid and flowing. I was Wellspring. We laughed at that. I gifted her with the way the light chipped through the leaves.

The bear came. He was warm and smelled earthy. I buried my fingers in his fur, pressed my heart up against him. I worked down from his ears, combing his fur with my fingers, picking out the twigs and leaves, seeking out the heat of him. I climbed on his back to reach his shoulders and he got up and started walking up the hill. The steep places are easier for him than they are for me. He never lost his footing. At the cave I got down but pressed my shoulder back against his chest, reluctant to move on without him, reluctant to pass into the day without him.

He assured me that I am never without him, much less here now. I gifted him with a necklace of sea shells. They rattled when he moved like small clackety bells. He licked my arms, my face, my heart. There was a weight on my heart which he lifted and settled in to gnaw on, urging me to go on while he took care of it. I slipped through the bright fissure into a softness of green. No road today, just small flashes of sun, the wind in the leaves, the tender green along the ground.

I sat right down. There was no need to go anywhere. The woods were full of creatures. Fox was there but did not approach. This was not a fox day. Deer man was there and we practiced presence. There was a spring at the other side of the small clearing. Butterflies lit and fell. I lined the edge of the spring with small golden bowls. A gift of honoring and receiving.

The butterflies lit on my arms and lifted. I bloomed into a bed of white flowers. This is all that needs to be done, to be the secret bed of flowers in the clearing in the wood. The sweet small scent lifted through the canopy and into the blue.

OOO

This entry was posted in Bear, Days, Deer Man, Fox, Wellspring. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to secret field of flowers

  1. codirector says:

    ahhh, you bear. so strong and reassuring, so lusciously cloaked in deep fur.

    You ARE a bed of white flowers. fresh and new.

    xoxox

  2. Lisa Love your journeys – I have to connect more with my spirit world – I feel a bit lost without a conscious connection to spirit in my life… is it New Jersey that I struggle to connect and even to journey at all anymore? If you have any words of encouragement to reinvigorate my journeys in a crazy NJ life, please flow ahead!  I will find it again someday or die trying! Much love from my journey to yours, Karen

    ________________________________

    • lbk says:

      Karen, dear one, so many words rise in answer, they tumble together and wedge and don’t come out at all. I’ve been trying to get them to line up like school children, a mannerly procession, but they insist on all singing at once…

      I think there’s a whole book there trying to speak itself as a comment. So I take a deep breath and start again here…

      1) Make yourself a little of pocket of stillness, wherever you can in your day. Make it and rest yourself in it. Just that. Just rest and listen. Every day.

      2) The spirit world is waiting for you, singing for you. Raining blessings all around you.

      3) I see a glowing emerald green. It’s right there at your solar plexus. It’s right there, cupped in your hands. It’s right there.

      4) Crazy NJ life. Some places feel easier than others. Some places make us wish we were somewhere that made more sense to us. But there you are where you are. What is it telling you? What is it asking of you, this crazy place you find yourself? There you are. Listen… listen…

      xo

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s