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This morning, amid the rose-red rays of the rising sun

and the sounds of the birds singing it to rise

and the sounds of traffic from a highway not seen but heard

the four owls surround my house and encourage me.

“Go to Red Lake.”

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You perch with your mate,

directly in front of me,

and unmistakably declare your name.

The sound of your name follows you as you fly around.

I see you… A Grey Crested Tit Mouse.

Why has no one else heard this wonderful thing?

 

 

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The frogs sing in

the sounds of Spring.

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I just finished watching “The Fault In Our Stars”, a great tearjerker about love, eulogies, etc.

It made me think of what I would say if I wrote my eulogy, and I realize that anything one says or writes, is a part of their eulogy.

I think part of my eulogy would be an apology. Because I can come across as hard and unyielding in the moment, when I know that my intentions are good. And that’s because of pride. Pride is such a defense mechanism, a flawed way of protecting yourself. It is a dis-ease, a dis-ability. It’s a way of hiding vulnerability in the moment. Of not being in the moment. Or perhaps of being someone you don’t want to be in that moment; when the moment is all we have, and that most important moment involves people.

Humility on the other hand, is being vulnerable in the moment, open to the moment and flexible in relation to all of its possibilities. That’s the funny thing about being vulnerable. I don’t know if it’s something that you can spontaneously feel in the moment once you have reached a certain level of awareness. It is only something that you can practice.

It’s like patience. I don’t consider myself a patient person though some other people may, I don’t know if patience will ever feel natural. I think it is something you can only practice. I only know that to date, I do not comprehend the feeling of patience. But with practice ( like choosing to wait in the longest grocery line) patience is becoming second nature. I don’t have to think about it. Perhaps when one reaches a certain level of awareness, anything/everything becomes second nature.

The point being that for me,

humility in the moment ,

is an intermittent short in the wiring.

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Dawn

The owls visit at sunrise.

I don’t know if they are up early or out late.

“Dude, wake up!”

“It’s been a while,” they hoot.

“Get out of bed!”

“Come with us!”

They all cackle.

I call  back to them in Owlish without opening the window or getting out of  bed. I know they can hear me. “It’s good you came by, but I’m sleeping in!”

Startled by my reply, dog jumps on the bed and gives me a sloppy kiss. That’s her way of reassuring herself that I’m okay.

As I sputter and fend her off, I hear a last soft mournful “Aw, man!” fade into the distance outside.

 

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Like a canted boat beached on dry land,

you sleep on the yellow stripes in the middle of the road.

You lie near skunk who is black, white…and red.

 

One Wing covers your head.

Does it shield your sensitive eyes from the sun?

 

Don’t you know that is a bad place to sleep?

 

On my next visit, someone has spirited you away.

Are you in a better place?

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Cream of Chicken

and wild rice soup

from Panera.

 

Nothing better for breakfast.

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