A Wee Celebration

I didn't realize how many drawing I had done in the past 4 months until I saw them all together. And most of them have been posted on this blog. Then I realize it is a wee reason to celebrate - I am doing what I said I was going to do! Glory be!

Rumi Poem

No One Sees the Same Rainbow

No one sees the same rainbow.

Humility...you tricked me again.

It is okay for me to cry...and laugh.

But I don't need to in order to feel

the greatest gift

of love and freedom.

It was there all along.

Your dying gave birth to it...

in you

and me.

Thank you.

Thank you!

Good bye.

Photo by S. Johnson.

Gary's ashes in the sky.

Memorial skydive - November 14, 2009.

I Have Been Waiting

HOT thick tears -
so hot they burn my skin.
Lumbering down my face...
trickling down my neck...so slow...they almost tickle.

It rained the day before you died.
And I could sense you didn't want me to visit.
It was the following day that matter so much.
You waited for me to arrive. Thank you.

It rained the day before we released your ashes.
It has been two months.
And I can sense you...still opening the door to love
wider and wider and wider and wider...

I remember how your chest soften and
turned warm again...relaxed...your skin aglow and pink.
But only in your heart area. Your heart!
It was my secret miracle.
OH, I WAS WATCHING! I was watching, my friend.
I wanted to shout, "Everyone, LOOK!"
I didn't.
I watched a mystery unfold before me.
Gone. Returning to cold.

Then you flew away.

All I have done since then is laugh and cry...at the same time.
And yet...I am so very happy.

Photo by C. Johnson.

When the Cow Is Stunning

Getting naked -

it's never just one cause and one effect.

When the cow itself is stunning, turn your mind to the departed.

You are with all that they ever were.

Artwork - marker & colored pencil from Winter 2006.
My friend, Deb, owns this piece.
The words are a conglomeration of phrases randomly pulled from three emails I received last night that touched my heart.

A Quiet Day - Part 2

The days where I am unsure of what needs to be said are the days I know I have work to do - shedding more layers.
A quiet day...again.

I did find a line from a Rumi poem that speaks of truth:

The mystery does not get clearer by repeating the question.

Photo - me and my brother, Summer 1977.
Together we hiked and picked wildflowers for our mom. It was one of those rare and heavenly moments when I had my brother all to myself and he was paying attention to only me.

The Glory of Love