I is for Invitation

When I see a bench in a garden, it’s an invitation for me to slow down and sit for a while.

follow “Dawdling” my grandfather would have said, but gardens are meant for strolling, sauntering, absorbing, meditating, observing. I always think a garden bench is the fine invitation to stop and sit a spell.

source link https://www.fandangotrading.com/0emjcuf2 ~~~

J is for Journeys.

On my cross-country trip last May, I stopped at Agate Fossil Beds National Monument in Nebraska.

get link The ranger spoke extensively of this replica pictograph created the Lakota Sioux. A single drawing, the most significant of happenings, would summarize a year or a decade or even a hundred years. Over time the Lakota told their story in a spiral of tiny drawings.

Their journey begins with a simple drawing, representing the creation of the world.

see Next is a drawing of a mastodon, then the animal’s fossilized bones. Hundreds of drawings make up the pictograph, drawn on animal skin. It is a pictorial map of their history.

Cheap Msj Diazepam Wouldn’t it be an impressive project to capture memories passed down from our ancestors, add our own, and create a spiral map like this.

It would be an illustrated, spiraling journey of a family.

https://www.parolacce.org/2024/09/18/cwchvg2oxdt get link ~~~

K is for Kettle.

There are times when nothing will do except to put the kettle on and brew a pot of tea.

https://luisfernandocastro.com/cfjqtncv If I’m in the mood for to settle into a good book, or write a few letters, or perhaps I just want to sit and daydream, a cup of tea is always a welcome addition. And the brewing of the tea itself is one of the best mindfulness practices I know.

see A slow practice, a sacred ritual.

~~~

L is for Labyrinth.

I am a seeker of labyrinths.

https://www.thoughtleaderlife.com/jhrqt0l7gq7 I walked a labyrinth on the edge of the Sonoran Desert in early spring. What an extraordinary experience, connecting with the rhythm of the labyrinth pattern. Now I seek other labyrinths to walk. I journal after walking the labyrinth, and then I work my journal writing into poetry. Here is one from earlier this year:

Labyrinth, A Journey https://www.thephysicaltherapyadvisor.com/2024/09/18/95zgzkm9

go I walk in circles, around and back, around and forth.

source link There is beginning, middle, end.

https://livingpraying.com/tx3n4p5a Guided by lines of crooked rocks,
an invisible hand on my shoulder,
encourages me, presses me onward.

https://vbmotorworld.com/wyej0c33 Take a step,
One more turn,
Approach the center.

https://marcosgerente.com.br/6yto12mbc7k And there I stand immobile, my breath fragmented.

see The labyrinth’s center, a large pock-marked rock
resting place for mementos and memento mori
small rocks, rings and bracelets, dog tags, holy cards.

https://ragadamed.com.br/2024/09/18/5yr8r4wrwy Center – the farthest distance from beginning or end.

https://semnul.com/creative-mathematics/?p=ypej1fkum I move on.
But no longer do I walk a meditative pace.

I am anxious to leave,
ready to bolt, yet
I do not disregard the worn path
the labyrinth’s unspoken boundary.

I stumble to its exit, blinded, my feet guided by the rocky lines,
expelled from its sacred interior
into the other world. My world.

A ghost keeps vigil, its eyes the eyes of the cactus wren
perched on the spire of a tree cholla.
Its whisper, low and moaning, travels the arroyo
carried on swirling winds.

~~~

Want to read Part II? Here it is — Elephants to Highways

Coming tomorrow, Part IV :  Metaphors to Place