Pondering Blog: exploring lessons from life’s teachers
Painting of the ironwood tree by Tracey Harris - a tree I first saw in a dream, 20 years before I met it - and where I was held safe for my vision quest in Kapaau, HI, Big Island - an amazing gift by Karen Smith Good
Writing is how I process and make sense of the life experience. I take time to carefully review, digest and find the poetry in my world. Writing helps me get the lesson - earn the wisdom - find the perfect piece of sea glass in the painful shards of glass. Without writing, the teacher may go by unnoticed and return in another form.
Do you have a writing habit? My pondering workbook offers writing prompts so you can scratch the surface of your life - dig deeper into relationships, past experiences, dreams, habits, animals and hobbies and find beautiful words and imagery to elevate your wisdom, understanding and peace.
Sat nam, for truth, Janet
When Devil Whispers
I asked my spirit team for help in letting go of the past - they sent me rock and water.
Love Prayer Song for Earth Mother “By the Ironwood Tree”
Love Prayer Song for Mother Earth
4 Nights Under the Ironwood tree - Kapaau, Big Island, Hawaii
4 nights with the Sacred Ironwood Tree
Stones and Bones
Honoring stones and bones
Portrait of an Earth Keeper
Honoring earth keepers. This is Terry. He is a gardener at the Botanical Garden of Nevis.
Sweeping the Garden
Tending the garden tends one’s own personal garden. Sweeping up leaves, twigs and petals - sweeps up our own - letting go and starting anew.
Scars
Honor your scars. You earned them. Wear them with pride.
What Holds You Steady?
My foundation for self care is a three legged stool - my daily kundalini yoga practice, healthy food and adequate sleep. And each leg relies on the other. When one starts to wobble, the whole structure is at risk.
My stool fell this year - its legs slowly weakened and fell to the ground. I thought it was sturdy so I started paying a little less attention to it. When it wobbled, I thought it was fine.
But it’s okay. I think I needed to embody the understanding - my sat nam - that I can’t take the sturdiness of my stool for granted. Just because it was strong and steady yesterday doesn’t mean it will always be that way. It doesn’t mean I can invest in it less.
And just because it feels like a pile of broken pieces today - doesn’t mean it won’t be sturdy again.
Returning to Innocence
Returning to Innocence
Let me fall. Let me descend
Let me fall. Let me descend. What I need can find me here. Only then will a start my ascent.
Sometimes my house screams: Message from my smoke alarm
Ong Namo Guru Dev Namo - I bow to the teachers in my life. I bow to divine guidance
Even or perhaps especially when it comes through my smoke alarm with an important message.
20 Breaths
I gently pushed off into the darkness - slowly frog-stroking away from shore,
stretching my arms and legs and moving through the darkness into the unknown,
now an ocean creature, through the cold, healing liquid.
for ten counts out
turning,
and ten counts back.
Sometimes I ask for help
I make messes. And then I clean them up.
A Bowl Full of Happiness
I didn’t know I would learn the names of so many people, get to know them - learn about their kids, their career, their life partners and the nicknames that their partner called them - like Honey Bun. Once when I called someone that - she told me that her deceased husband called her that - so we started calling each other Honey Bun.
Waiting for the bus - the Bus that Never Comes
and I pedal
into a beautiful future
and never look back.
I Can’t. I Am. I Did. - Lessons from uncomfortable positions
Every dawn - I face discomfort head on. One minute each. Every morning. I start the day doing something that I think I can’t. This short, daily kriya is an important component of my spiritual healing practice. It represents life - Tackling what scares me the most. The things I don’t want to do - the parts of my self I don’t want to look at.
Grasshopper Lessons
On my vision quest, I had some quality time with grasshoppers.
Shedding Suits
Spring stayed in hiding this year
no crocus pushed up through the earth
a faucet turned on and only quiet revealed
a dawn with no trill
peep-less ponds
an ocean with no current
mountains collapsed
in a heap
lying still
only love and gratitude
will rouse her from rest
from her wounds
she is cold
dark
and quiet
Field notes on letting go
I stopped looking for bracelets. They are gone now. But I found a big snail, spiderwebs, flowers and stepped on the jaw bone of a hog with horns and teeth. I imagine the artifacts of my childhood, ancestry, career, loves and motherhood shedding as I wend along the path that I can’t see clearly yet. - I’m bushwhacking. I’m crawling under boughs, getting scratches on ankles from prickly flowers and losing my sense of direction. I fall down sometimes, the hedge impenetrable - I concede to nature. I cannot pass right now. There is no clear path yet. Lie down and rest. So I do - reluctantly. I have to laugh. And I like it.
This story starts with fear
After a 30 plus year career in health care sustainability, I have resigned from my current employment, where I have been for 18 years. My last day of work is January 7, 2022. Holding on tight to past events is part of my safety strategy. I am mentally prying things out of my clenches - finger by finger and letting go. I’m cutting energetic cords. I focus on my breath, trying to look forward and not back.