Lizabean

A little birdy told me so

I have been a trapped blackbird, over and over banging into that window..not understanding that what looks like a way out only prevents me from finding the real Freedom for my flight.

I was a canary longing to be the strong Falcon; forgetting that the song of emotion and insight is as noble as intellect and reason.

Our nest was built from love but not always justice.  From passion but not always compassion.  From sacrifice but not always accommodation. 

The seasons came and the windy Truth howled.  Yarn was added but not soon enough.

And a month ago, the remains of that delicate nest splattered.

So the canary, the blackbird, the Falcon, the duck, the dog, and their whee little pup:  they are weeping and hoping and struggling and searching and learning how NOT to bite the hand that feeds them.

Send some Twigs, would you?

There are two nests, now, that need to be (re)built.  And many flying lessons ahead.

The thing is (9 months old)...

That's my boy, originally uploaded by liza-bean.

The thing is I adore the way you read your books,
the way you invent new ways to eat your food,
the way you say your first word with such cheer: "Ligh...!" (light)
the way you crawl like a bear on carpet,
the way you tilt your head to the side and grin that four(!)-toothed smile when you flirt with strangers,
the way you flap your arms when you are excited to see your family,
the way you charge after the kitty, then freeze when she fails to move,
the way you mimic my words,
the thing is, my adorable bunny, I just adore you.

(My sweet boy, your life is changing in ways mama and daddy never wanted for you. We love you very much. You are our shining light in this current darkness.)

She writes again

Anger is this poison.  Cliche.  So cliche.  A black powder that imminates from deep within.  It trickles down my nose, my mouth; it oozes down my ears.  I sweat it out from every pore, gather it all together in one grand sphere of destruction, and hurl it outward.

But it doesn't work.  It won't leave.  It just sits there and starts to retract, starts to attack and darken that light within. 

Reflection.  I freeze the spiraling blackness and think, "This is interesting.  It can't go outward, it can't go inward, it must go......hmph".  

And then I remember the Truth I discovered the other day.  And I say, "Hmmm,  could You take it for  me?"

Release.

Until the next wave.

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Life is throwing me lemons.  And it's winter, so I'm not about to make any lemonade.

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Sources of solace:

"Life is love and love is life.  What keeps the body together but love?  What is desire but love of self?...And what is knowledge but love of truth" --Nisargadatta Maharaj (as quoted by Deepak Chopra)

"Life isn't as serious as my mind makes it out to be"  --Eckhart Tolle

"O Son of Being!  Thou art My lamp and My light is in thee.  Get thou from it thy radiance and seek none other than Me.  For I have created thee rich and have bountifully shed My favour upon thee"--Baha'u'llah