Channeled Chimes

 Before there were any elephant orphanages, the uncle of a friend of mine began the very first one. 

Appearances…realities….what we think and what is….all ever fascinating.

We are growing a culture of no feeling….no connection to brutality….no true understanding of what we are taking in cellularly on a regular basis through our eyes, in the media.

In ancient tribes, somewhere, the elders teach the children to feel Wind so they’ll know what to do if they’re afraid or lost.

Question of the day: Why is it, when faced with a garden full of blooming roses, do women spontaneously bend to sniff every single one, and men stand back, find a bench to sit on and pull out something to read? Both clearly seem to revel in the beauty and vibe.

Hello hands. How is it that you remind me of Dad’s hands, but you also look like Mom’s? You needn’t answer that. I simply want to take this moment to thank you. Who would I be without you? Thank you. Let’s have a picnic.

A Navajo elder sat in a circle with various lifeforms. He was asked to define healing. He closed his eyes,  he opened his eyes, he looked around,  and then he spoke. “To bring one into harmony with everything.” A child: ‘EVERYTHING? That is a LOT!” A tree: “I watch creatures come and go, thinking but … Read more

And to honor all beloved creatures who companion, hold, and nurture our deepest human selves, as only they can.

When my family returned to the US from India and Sri Lanka in the mid 60’s, my father was engaged as a mediator in the violent Sri Lankan conflicts which hadn’t formally escalated into war, but were headed in that direction.  

There’s something in the way she moves…hahaha…beetles, that is…that transports me there. And I greet her loudly each time.

While we sit under the stars together.

Oh, to be someone’s dog.

Brand new to the Upper West Side of NYC in the early 90’s, on my first spin around Central Park on my blades? On the southeast corner, a sturdy looking man in ‘walking gear’ called out “Looking good on those blades! Welcome to New York!” and motioned me to come over. Inner knowing chuckling ‘This is why I moved here, I want my world to be bigger and bigger’….I stopped.

Yesterday morning my hummingbirds were breakfasting and flitting about, when a giant hawk swooped in.

Squirrels are gatherers. When one crosses one’s path, gathering is the message. Yesterday this one sat next to me and together we looked out. What are we to gather? On this first day of Lent? With spring on its way and the sun rising?

For years I have sat on the receiving end of phone calls of people in crisis/distress/sadness. I do not solicit, I am found, and in these times I am found A LOT.

Ice cream soup today!

Once there was a girl who grew up in a distant land, in a boarding school, who longed for her parents, her family, a home. In the absence of all, she grew a relationship with nature, with creatures, with trees, with the wind and with God.

shifting spot, as one walks along the marina towards the open sea, where suddenly a waft of fishiness, mixed with salty dense sea air, mists in and I beam through time and space to Honfleur.

in a moment of birds cheeping while the rain pitter pattered, a piercing animal scream and a chorus of coyotes yipping, shocked me into full alert.

But if only a brilliant undeniably heaven sent cloud would appear with golden light blasting out sparkles spelling the message:

Flustra. Flustra. Flustra. Where oh where have you been all my life? 

This morning’s first light, a soft golden rose.

I discovered this note written to self, now seven more years plus a few weeks ago. Mothers. My Mother. Who would we be without the wounding and the love? The Love. The Knowing. The Lineage.