Broken Butterflies

I posted this on my other blog Dreaming Existence and wanted to share with you all here as well. We need to be introspective at this time in our Human history. We need to examine our own intent, accept the pain we try so hard to cast off and know that only together, through loving intent, our better future can be created.

Broken Butterflies

Every now and then I am inspired to share this song, written and sung by a talented lady from my home state. I have loved the melody, slow and melancholic, the words that wind and twist in ways only the individual listening can comprehend for themselves. It is a work of art and has meant something just a little bit different to me at various times in my life’s unfolding.
I was sifting through my endless photos this evening, determined to finally put together that pictorial book of poems that has been infecting my brain for some years now, encouraged by the kind words of my friends and followers. I filed through images of thoughtful monkeys, bright and brilliant birds, as well as so many bees, dipping their faces into stores of golden pollen. Then came the butterflies. As I chose a few treasured images, I came across this one in a series I took while at a lovely garden in Roswell, Georgia. I know a lot of people who would have just passed this one by, deleted the images, or cast it aside as defective. I am not one of those people. I often photograph the worn down, the damaged and dying within Nature’s fine tapestry of living things. I see the beauty in every stage of existence, so when I saw this image it struck me as poignantly appropriate for me-for so many-at this time.
I have felt pretty broken lately, the weight of the unknown pulling me to the ground when I long to soar with the freedom of the familiar taking me to the heights of joy. It has been heartbreaking to see the fabric of our lives slowly coming unraveled in spite of our best efforts to hold it together. It’s not about resistance to change. It’s not about adaptability or rigidity. It’s about feeling helpless in spite of putting forth my bravest face, rallying myself to count my blessings, focus on the positive and not get caught up in fear.

The simple truth is that we are faced with the total unknown at this most profound moment in modern history and the way our society is handling this challenge is the most troubling thing for me. So much anger, impatience, intolerance, insensitivity, arrogance, greed and denial has taken its toll on those who are

seeking a positive solution, taking comfort in what can still be counted on. For me, that is Nature. This is a most most frightening world where now, more than ever, people are afraid of other people. We don’t know who may be carrying a virus, who may hate us, or who is as fearful as we might be ourselves. If we are being responsible, we wear our masks in public or work places, but that leaves us almost faceless to others, unable to show expression and share smiles. The worst part for me is not being able to just give or receive a hug. I’m a hugger and value human touch. I can’t travel to other states to visit my family and old friends, fearing exposure due to those people who refuse to even try being safe.
I feel broken, often frozen emotionally by the need to not cry anymore, to not be ashamed of how my country is presenting itself to the rest of the world, and by the need to just breathe. Then I go outside, thankful that at least for now Nature is not the enemy. The air is no more toxic than usual, the water is no more contaminated, the animals are thriving and the sky hasn’t fallen. Like my tiny friend above, I feel the need for sweet rest on a soft blanket of love, waiting for healing.

More than anything else, the song speaks to the way we communicate, the words that spill from our mouths, often in careless ways, whether intentional or not. It speaks of the lies that break our spirits, our hearts and our faith in a better world.

In conclusion, I say we toss our fears into the bottomless pit of misery and stand together, heart to heart, as we help one another to heal. Our light must shine on even through the darkest of days. Our wings may be broken, but together we can reach the heights and color the skies with hope. The old tapestry may be unraveling but lets create a new work of art as we pick up the frayed ends and begin again…finally united
This post brought to you by .Linda Hill’s SoCS prompt Do visit her blog to read more great posts and meet some amazing writers.

The PeaceWithin

Anyone who has ever followed my blog or knows me well understands my idea of peace. While I continue to envision and pray for universal peace, I know that true peace can only be found within each soul individually. Every one of us is responsible for finding that place which  we can retreat to for solace, comfort and the assurance that all will be well in our souls.

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For those who accept the idea that our lives are guided by a higher power, Peace then comes in that knowledge and acceptance, each finding their own way of communion with Spirit. What name this guiding force is called matters not. If universal naming were important we would all be in trouble here.

What matters most is that every living thing find a common pulse, that place in which we all become one, even for a moment. Call it prayer, meditation, communion or simply quieting the mind from the constant chatter that we have come to know as commonplace in our lives.

The peace I find comes in the shade of the Creator’s Love, this beautiful spinning orb of rock, water, gases and cellular magnificence we call Earth..and home. I spent my Thanksgiving breathing, relaxing and being. I spent yesterday reveling in our home and its inhabitants. This is my church and these are my fellow worshippers. We are thankful for our breath and what each if us knows as perfection in life. The genuine moments of peace that sustain us through hardship and loss. These are the gifts, the treasure, the cool shade of a Love that knows no limit.

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Snowy egret in Canaveral Seashore National Reserve
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We take wing when fear consumes us. Or we trust in Spirit and wait
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Can you hear them whispering?
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I missed seeing my hawk friends so often

 

 

It is a good thing to find joy wherever you may be. It is another to be in a place where joy bombards you from all directions. For me that place is within the living world.

May you find a reason to be thankful in every day.

This post is brought to you by Linda Hill’s #SoCS prompt.

If our walk made you thirsty, head on over to Dan’s place. They are serving up cold ones in spite of the impending snow predictions. 😉

I’m In!

Dear Lord I can’t believe it. After weeks of being too

a) stressed

b) busy

c) uninspired

d) busy

e) couldn’t get into my account!

I finally remembered the secret password to get into my own space once again. But, now what to do with such freedom? Since returning from our wonderful trip to visit all the grandchildren Life has been so hectic, yet without exploration, sans excursions and short on inspiration. Sigh..

I am hoping  anticipating new adventures coming up soon that I can share with you. For now we are in flux, transition and eyeball deep in moving boxes. Stay tuned, for I miss sharing beautiful things with you all. Meanwhile, I am trying to catch up on blog posts but forgive me for being so far behind. I’m still here, still love your words and images, and am still seeking the small and mighty miracles in this insane world we call life.

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My guys
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Laughter in the cemetery is a must
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This memorial to honor fallen firefighters was moving
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From any angle the statue was striking
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There are quite a few famous and infamous people buried here

Some of the more famous people buried in Wyuka Cemetery are George Starkweather and Gordon McRae.

We didn’t get to see every marker but my little buddy helped me to find many very interesting headstones. It was beautiful and nippy there in Cornhusker land. What a grand time seeing everyone.

I always feel like the silence of the cemetery welcomes life and laughter with open arms, like they are  saying,

“Thanks for remembering us here.”
Stay tuned…I’ll be back when life slows down to a dull roar. Meanwhile, a word from Ghandi…

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What He Knows/Poetry

 

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The angels plucked heart’s hopeful strings

and delivered him with gentle wings-

a whisper only he could hear,

and he knew.

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“You are the treasure, never doubt

the miracle this life’s about.”

His soul rejoiced within the peace

of knowing-and it

smiled.

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Before they gave complete control

to those whose arms did thus enfold,

the angels kissed the velvet cheek

of one so precious, new and meek.

“What now is known, shall fade away

into the days of childish play

until, once more, the soul shall yearn

to quench the fire inside that burns.

‘Tis then dear one, you look within

beyond the aging, thickened skin.

You will recall with new delight

the treasure resting out of sight,

and yours to give away at last-

be quick!

The memory fades too fast.

What went before shall be again,

a glimpse, magnificent and then

just out of reach…

the Secret.

 

For you, dear one.

Cheryl KP copyright 2019

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shimmer #Photography

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Shimmer//

shine with a soft tremulous light

glint, glisten, flicker, twinkle, sparkle, flash,

scintilate, flare, glare, gleam, glow, glimmer,

glitter, dance, blink, wink

 

She sings and stings,

her gossamer wings

caress the winds,

the blossom bends

to her desire

to light the fire-

perpetual  motion,

Creation’s devotion,

light grows dimmer,

inspires the

shimmer…

CKP copyright photo and words

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gotta’ Find Some Grub

I love the weekend. Not just because I don’t have to get up before the sun, force myself to face the shower and go to work, but because of all the wonderful opportunities these 48 hours afford me.

I usually start my weekend with coffee on the back porch, phone and camera at the ready, just in case something miraculous comes along. As usual there was no shortage of such miracles today and perhaps I will share more of them later.

The other great thing about weekends is that I have the chance to work on my creative projects. Since I work out of our dining area which faces the back porch, I can still watch for little surprises now and then.

This afternoon brought one such unexpected delight. We usually see Zippy, our resident chipmunk, or one of his relatives and descendents darting across the yard or hanging near the edge of the porch just daydreaming; but  by the time I grab my camera the visitors have disappeared. Today I was stealthier than my little friend, or perhaps he was just distracted by hunger and determination. Either way I managed to photograph his little adventure.

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Man, I’m hungry!
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I know just where to go!
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I’ll just dash in here for a bit of grub..
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Upsie daisy!
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Just..one..more..push..
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Those leaves were jiggling, folks.
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Ahhh…just the grub I was looking for.

Literally. 🙊

In a flash he was off into the bushes again. And we have solved the mystery of the smashed leaves on our plant from time to time.

I just can’t get past the cuteness, even though he looks like a fancy rat. 😉💕

I hope you find whatever thrills you and fills you this weekend.

Come to the Cone! #flowers #photography

Since we lived in Costa Rica I have been addicted to photographing all things small-those magical wonders so easily passed over and subsequently ill appreciated.

It was a simple thrill for me to photograph small gardens where butterflies fed on the nectar of cone flowers as bees gathered golden treasure to spread from bloom to bloom before returning to the hive in a world where the secret life of insects played out while we went about our own doings, all too often oblivious to such miracles.

I simply had to have cone flowers in my space this season; and although they are in pots, I am nurturing them to welcome all small creatures who come to pay homage to The Cone.

Here are a few of the earliest visitors.

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The Imposter, with false feelers on its wings to fool predators
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The Alien with its metallic like body
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The Doppleganger beetle, looking like a small chic cockroach
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See the intricate design swirls on its back?

Now, if you are waiting on the edge of your seat for the scientific facts about these small wonders, you should relax, sit back and remember that I am merely the eye of the photographer who draws attention to these tiny treasures. I am not an entomologist. But I would like to learn more about these insects. Maybe when I finish taking photos….

As the World Falls Down..

Of late I have been avoiding the overwhelming feelings that wait at my heart’s door. The tap, tapping of despair, frustration, anxiety and disappointment wait, torches held high and voices crying out, to rouse my soul into complete and utter fear over what is becoming of this world. While there has always been chaos and disorder on the outside, beyond the borders of this country, I had a sense of things being generally alright in my own little space of it. Perhaps it was naivety or willfull ignorance, or a bit of both. Now that disaster seems determined to invite itself upon us here in the ‘land of the free’, and with my advancing age, my sense of well being and security grows less steady.

So, since there is limitation to what I can do ‘out there’, I turn once again within. If I can create harmony within my soul, find peace in my own being, and create at least a small space of beauty to retreat to, then there is one iota of positive change in the Creator’s world.

Hubby and I have been working hard to get our little garden thriving and are hoping these sweltering days don’t prove stronger than its will to survive. It has become a nice little haven for me lately. I hope we all have a brighter, more positive week ahead.

David Bowie has long been a favorite of mine and Labyrinth remains one of the best musical family films ever made.

Enjoy!

Thank you Mr Bowie, for being brilliant. We miss you!

 

Dreams and Nightmares/Forever Never

More glimpses from the world of Domhan…..

Agean’s eyes flew open wide and he sat bolt upright on the blanket where he been peacefully sleeping. He jumped out of bed and scurried over the floor toward the room where Mama Ella and Saol slept; but he crashed into someone midway there, both of them falling to the floor with a thud and cries of fright. Agean grabbed Saol by the shoulders and held onto her tightly.

“Did you hear that?” he hissed into her ear, fearful of waking Ella. He felt Saol nod. “Did you feel the ground shake?” She nodded again. His eyes were adjusting to the faint light in the room and he could make out the features of Saol’s face, her forehead scrunched in terror. He longed to ease her fear but his own heart pounded so loudly he thought surely she could hear it. They both breathed heavily as they sat, clinging to one another on the bare floor. Had Mama Ella heard it too?

“Should we wake Mama Ella?” Saol asked, wanting nothing more than for her mother to hold her and tell her everything was going to be fine.

“Not yet,” Agean whispered across the darkness. “Let’s wait to see if it comes again. Maybe we were dreaming.”

“Really, Agean? The same dream?” Even in the darkness the boy could see her eyes roll back in her head the way they always did when she thought him being foolish.

“Agean? Is that you out of bed?” Ella called from the other room. “Is Saol out there with you? She isn’t in her bed.”

“Yes, Mama Ella, I’m here,” she answered. “Agean..he just had a bad dream and I was helping him to right himself. He’s going back to sleep now, though.”

“I can’t sleep until I go outside and look into the sky,” Agean whispered back at Saol through the darkness. “I need to see that nothing is coming.” Agean got to his feet and rushed out through the door before Saol could grab him.

“Agean!” she whispered commandingly. “Come back here!” Saol knew it was no use with that boy. He was so strong willed. She got up and tiptoed quietly after him, casting a furtive glance at the room where Mama Ella was still in bed and, hopefully, already back to sleep. She hurried down the steps and stepped onto the soft, cool dirt, immediately searching for Agean. At first she couldn’t find him in the dark; but her eyes adjusted quickly and she spotted him standing a stone’s throw away, right in the middle of the path. His hands hung limply at his sides and he stared up at the half moon. She followed slowly up the path and as she approached from behind, something glinted in the half-light, dangling precariously from Agean’s right hand.

“What are you doing Agean? And what have you got there?” He lifted the precious treasure to look at it as he turned to face his friend.

“I miss her, Saol. Na. I miss her so much.” Even in the dim moonlight Saol saw the tears glistening in the boy’s eyes. There was nothing she could do for him to ease this kind of loneliness although she understood it well. Her Father was far away from her too. Saol wrapped her arm around his shoulders and gave him a quick hug. Agean leaned in and rested his head on her shoulder. Even in so short a time, Agean had grown as tall as Saol and she could see his father’s determination shining in the boy’s eyes. “I just got to meet my Father, and now he is far away again.” He looked down at the crystal in his hand and held it up in the pale light, the moon’s glow reflecting off each perfectly cut edge. Grandmother Moon’s whispers coaxed twinkling shards of light to dance over the dark earth ahead of them. They both gasped in excitement and Saol tugged Agean by the arm,  pulling him off the path and behind an old tree.

“We shouldn’t be out here, Agean. If Mama Ella wakes and finds us gone, we won’t be allowed to go with La Palabra in the morning. She will make us stay and work with her all day.”

Agean didn’t care about the new day. He was curious about the stone his mother had given him. He had watched her so many times turning her own crystal, gazing into it and bringing it to life. She didn’t know he watched. She thought he was sound asleep and he had become quite good at the sleeping game, although sometimes he did fall asleep waiting for something miraculous to happen.

“Maybe she is looking for me right now, Saol. Maybe I can see her in the stone.” Saol shook her head so hard he could feel it even if he couldn’t see her face clearly.

“You know what Palabra says about summoning the visions. We musn’t practice these things. We don’t know what windows we might open for things that do not come from the Light of Eternity. There are many eyes watching in the night, Agean. Let’s go back inside and sleep.” This time Agean saw her blue eyes shining earnestly across the space between them. He could not resist their pleading.

“Oh, alright,” he relented and hung the cord with the crystal around his neck. He grabbed her hand and they emerged from behind the tree and started back up the path to the hut. “Do you think they are in the Black Mountains yet, Saol?”

“I don’t know Agean, but I hope they get there soon-and I wish they never would get there.” Her eyes were wide with confusion but he understood her mixed emotions completely. Both children worried for their loved ones and their friends. They climbed the steps and tiptoed into Agean’s room, where Saol tucked her young friend into bed, kissed his curly head and whispered in his ear. “Remember what she told you. Na is always with you, so be comforted by her love.” She tapped his forehead gently. “And no more bad dreams.”

Agean clutched the crystal to his chest and retorted obstinately, “It was no dream. I heard the thunder of Domhan Eile.” Saol gasped.

“What do you know of such things?” She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t speak of that dark god or you may encourage him to pay us a visit!” Agean pushed it away. He wasn’t afraid of anything his mother wasn’t afraid of. So young and trusting, he had no way of knowing the things she kept secreted in her soul. “My mother and father aren’t afraid. They’ll bring back the Mother of Domhan. And her son too.”

“We all pray so, Agean. We all pray so.” Saol left him and slipped quietly into her room where Ella breathed softly, unaware of the children’s brief absence. It frightened the girl to think how easily they stayed away without Mama Ella even knowing. She vowed to keep a closer watch over her friend. He was so impulsive.

The children fell asleep sharing the same dream. They stood in the middle of the village, hand in hand, as the sun rose up over the dark horizon. Against the pink background of dawn the riders first appeared as tiny specks, growing larger and larger as the sun crept higher and higher. When they became life sized the sun fully illuminated the faces of the Hunter, the Warrior and the Sorceress, returning home at last…

 

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For those of you following, this is a small piece of my ever evolving story. If you are interested in past segments just type Forever Never in the search bar. Happy mid week!
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