First, I pondered whether I had ever fumbled my words inside my mind before, to which, I have no recollection of this ever previously happening.

Secondly, I laughed at the ridiculousness of mispronouncing a thought without actually pronouncing anything.

After all, how do you mess up a word merely by thought and not by the mistake (or accidental intentional slip up) by the utterances of the mouth?

It’s funny when these things happen…when words suddenly hold new meaning, never again able to go back to the way they once were felt…heard…said…. perceived…extrapolated…interpreted…and so on and furthermore.

Thus, when I thought to myself, “I needed to Pay Attention” to something I was trying to focus on… what I heard was PLAY attention…I giggled on the spot to this internal serendipitous circumstance invisible to anyone or anything outside of me.

Ah, my higher self does seem to have a sense of humor…. or perhaps an elemental force is hiding behind my kitchen chair and whispering in my ear while I drink my afternoon tea?

Either way, I began to contemplate the idea of Playing Attention.

It occurred to me that in times of joy and play we often retain greater memory, insight, and/or sensory awareness…. thus we are actually paying greater attention to the moment when we are fully present and in a “lightened” state of joyfulness.

When we “try” to PAY attention, we PAY with our lightness and give it over to temporary (temporal) seriousness…. brows furrow with intensity narrowing our gaze to the task at hand, we bite the end of a pen in deep thought, or we energetically lift blinders to ensure we’re not swayed away from doing the thing we’re essentially forcing ourselves to do.

Play, on the other hand, automatically focuses us into the present so much that we’re just not interested in being distracted so we’re not tempted… brows are softened instead of furrowed and focus becomes a continuous opening to the next curious thing.

Paying attention feels heavy, but playing attention has buoyancy.

Perhaps it has to do with expectations, deadlines or responibilities to the manner in which this “plays out” - dumb pun intended…or maybe it’s just our own way of looking at things with tightened aperture.

Obviously, in a world of constant distractions, both of these concepts have a place, but now I want to play with playing attention when doing a so called “serious” task to see where it might lead me?

I absolutely love it when two words are so close together …these two separated by a single L….one L away from Payday, always available to receive in abundance on Playday.

When I worked as a consultant in the corporate world, I always made my biggest sales when I stepped away from the desk to play…. now, I did set the stage with hard work, but I think this is a testament to how the Universe pays us when we’re making an effort to connect with and live more in joy.

After all, what kind of silly nonsense am I getting into for me to fumble a word I didn’t even say?

Well, it’s always about the questions, this I know.

We’re all on a quest…. the nature of (and creativity) our questions are directly connected to the quest we walk through in this lifetime.

Paying attention is not as fun as Playing attention….

Paying attention is at-a-tension.

Playing attention is at-ten-tied-on… get it? Wiggle your fingers…all 10 of them… ;-)

What are you paying attention to and what are you playing attention to?

One of these is not like the other.

Now Play Attention People, there’s not time to wait and this is what I’m going to hear now every time I actually here “pay attention,” maybe you will too…and we can lighten this realm up a little.

Silly Wisdom,

Angela

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I found this image on Pixabay and I love the juxtaposition of seriousness and playfulness it presents….seemed perfect for this post…perfectly silly!

I’m always exploring ways to learn how to connect with the land, how to garden, how to take care of more animals before I make even greater commitments than my tiny homestead is ready to take on (and me). I like to hear differing perspectives, some a little woo, some more practical.

I have no clue about any of it, only that I’ve learned more about how to take care of chickens and ducks by doing it than listening to advice on the internet.

I am surrounded by farms and farmers, though not necessarily all of the industrialized sort, thankfully.

Before you come at me, what I’m about to say that might aggravate some people is not about the argument of eating meat or not eating meat, it’s not about who’s right or wrong, vegans or carnivores, because this goes beyond that.

Let me also say, I’m just a woman with my own personal experiences and opinions. I am no expert on this topic, nor do I want to be. I don’t like that label anyway, for anyone no matter how experienced they are, there is always more to learn than can be learned in any one individual’s lifetime, ever how long…or short.

The farmer I listened to was experienced, successful, and well-spoken.

A lot of people take advice from this individual.

But, like many things in this realm, something was off.

I closed my eyes and listened to the words.

It sounded a lot like a politician or celebrity spokesperson.

So often, we don’t see how the disassociation of a parasitic culture trickles down into industries that we deem noble…. alternative health…. farming…. whatever the opposite is of the thing for which we hold in opposition to or a sense of disdain.

Every time we assume that just because a profession seems nobler than the horrors of our modern-day government and medical system, more useful than the vampiric elite and corporate monstrosities, we miss the blind spots staring at us in our own lives and the communities that surround us.

We miss the nuance…we miss the bridge…we can’t see the pendulum when we’re riding it.

We stop asking questions about what is right? What is ethical? What is another way?

And the farmer said:

“If you have elder hens just get rid of them, they are no good once they stop producing.”

Now, I’m not going to pretend I’m not soft hearted on some subjects, nor that I have any right to judge, but something about the way he said that hit me.

I realized that this PERSPECTIVE is the SAME As the SYSTEM and its HIERARCHIAL EGREGORE.

They say the way we treat our animals is a direct indicator of how we treat others.

To this farmer the animals are purely numbers and when they can’t produce, they’re out.

The issue I have with this mentality is that it is the EXACT SAME MENTALITY the system has for HUMAN elders.

This is why the poisons are pushed harder on them.

When you no longer produce that money (or those valuable eggs), they want you gone and while they don’t cull humans in the same way they do chickens (yet)…. they certainly do cull through indirect means. (as we saw with the scam-demic)

This way of thinking is void of heart or soul.

Whether you keep the animals or not, to discard them like a product is to put into the collective consciousness the exact same mentality ever present in our modern world AND, unfortunately, a common way of thinking.

This is a dogmatic and rigid perspective in my opinion. When we just want to kill or get rid of everything that doesn’t do what we want it to do, we have lost the plot that we are in relationship to all that is around us, in our care, and the realm as a whole….whether that relationship is symbiotic or not, is up to us each individually to recognize and use our actions, interactions and language more carefully.

This way of thinking is why we now have a digital gulag that surveilles and commoditizes everyone and everything.

You didn’t make your sales…. Fired!

That chicken didn’t produce enough eggs…Fired!

You can’t move as fast as you once did…. Fired!

That dog seems to be in pain (though we can’t know for sure) …Fired in the kiln…because how dare we be inconvenienced by having to care for one another!

The words we use matter.

The way we see sentient life matters.

Our language reveals if the heart is full and open…or hardened and desensitized.

Produce or Die because that’s where society puts the value onto living sentient beings, all of them, but especially elders.

The system sees all of nature (including humans) as a nuisance to be controlled.

When the feminine principles aren’t included in society (not as the inverted feminism propaganda), the way society operates becomes cold and sterile.

This is why beauty is being stripped from everything.

No love, no warmth, no beauty…. just functionality, production, commercialization, data driven, and the stripping away of all that is special, good, crafted with care, nourished with love and treated with the Stewardship responsibility given to us by the Creator that goes far beyond the dollars we can make.

I understand people have a God given right to make a living and have to think about resources, disease, and a million other things. I’m not naïve to the conversation.

I think of the movie Avatar where Scully (I think that is the name) learns to take a life with honor when protecting himself as a poignant example to the Western mindset only thinking in terms of defense. Nature includes violence, but more often than not exhibits far more care than humankind.

To give prayer, reverence and/or blessing to that which instinct would have killed us, that we were merely trying to protect ourselves from, is a far different scenario than modern day massacres that have forgotten they are also nature.

Where is the sensitivity…the sensorial application of our senses into our decisions and wisdom through everyday life…. our sensibilities…. our sense.

When I see my elder hens, I see animals who have given eggs for years and given a lot of joy, who have helped the land, helped each other, and helped me.

Are they useless eaters now, no, they are walking lifeforce…they are still here, still with life, still contributing to the whole of all that is, even if that means no more “production.”

Our words blasted out into the interwebs may reach ears that don’t see the value of life just as it is, that don’t honor death, and/or have been so desensitized and disassociated from reality that all that is not self-serving is disregarded.

When that farmer becomes an elder and is no longer producing, will he be cast aside just like the animals he regarded as no longer useful?

What are we doing on this earth?

Whether you believe in eating meat or not is not the topic of this article, the question is where is the heart inside of our decisions, our perspectives and our communication. Where is there room for the value we place upon all life to be more than what it produces?

When we leave our hearts at the door and bring only our minds to boardrooms and business decisions, whether a farm, a healing modality or a corporation, we leave the soul of the project, the solution, and/or the humane exchange, too.

It’s not too far-fetched to say that those elder “useless” hens are the same way our Western society treats our elders….even the elder trees and this is why we’re crumbling because we reap what we sow, not just in the material world, but inside our selves…our cells that we turned into a sort of prison.

When everything is about “more” instead of “enough” we become the very thing we despise and the cruelty of society deteriorates further.

I do not have the answers.

I am no angel and struggle with many of my own internal challenges to how to live differently.

But, we’ve got to start listening to each other, really listening…not just take what sounds good as truth….not just trust someone because they have a platform and perform well.

And we’ve got to start listening to our own words because when we spew hate and treat everything as a resource instead of a part of Source, we lose the battle between the wolves inside our minds presenting us with decisions.

It’s a dog-eat-dog world when we war with life itself.

We need strong men, but we don’t need men whose hearts have left the building.

This is not a judgement; it’s an invitation to start seeing how prevalent this is in our society.

And we wonder why we continue to feed wars in every direction? This happens when we are at war with nature, with life, both outside and inside ourselves…and aren’t even aware of it.

Believe me, it’s equally annoying to listen to animal activists hammer on with their self deemed righteousness who have never cared for an animal themselves. It’s a land of hypocrites in all directions.

I’m not saying who is wrong or right, only that I believe we need to continue to self-examine.

I ask myself this all the time, where am I being too sensitive or not sensitive enough?

Am I treating others how I want to be treated?

I think about my indoor cats and how sometimes they get a little needy, but you know what I’m their whole life…their entire life is dependent upon me so can I be annoyed for a minute, yes…but then I stop and give them some love and attention when I am too busy…can I see through their eyes?

Can we put ourselves in the eyes of others?

Can we give love where it is the hardest to give?

So now here we are in a time where our elders are being deconstructed like a bomb with the new flu-jab poison because the hierarchy doesn’t want to pay for their Medicare and would like to cash out on their deaths….how easy to forget to remember that you will be an elder one day (if you’re lucky).

The mentality is the same and it’s part of the mind virus of this realm.

I think that is why society, in many regards, is anthropomorphizing animals now, because deep down we’re starting to realize that the connection of cosmic energy runs through all life and there is cause and effect to how we treat one another.

The disdain I heard in the way that farmer communicated was not uncommon. The inconvenience of anything not making money must be conquered…that was the energy beneath the words.

When we treat and utilize language that expresses life as mere data then this is how we end up with a world where data centers are popping up….digits for consumption to fill a void that’s never going to be filled from consuming more or discarding that which doesn’t produce.

The collective manifestation turns back to us as a mirror, if we can’t recognize this then the symbiotic nature of life will continue to reflect back a surveillance state where all is driven by numbers, not because of the geometric patterns that unfold naturally in nature but because of their inversion and distortion through our unwillingness to operate with a deeper mind-body and mind-heart connection.

We’re all just babies (even those who think they know it all) to our collective unconsciousness that often forgets to include nature, animals and life-giving properties within the whole of being. The container of humankind and Divine creations emanated into the morphic field of shared awareness and connection is far more distorted than clear within the mass consciousness and how we’re operating upon this plain of existence through these strange days.

This doesn’t mean we don’t have to make hard decisions about what is best for our health and wellbeing, our animals, business, property, life…. earth…but when there is no nourishment or heart (feminine principles) brought into the hierarchical data driven world then we continue to spiral in the wrong direction in a collective soup that has consumed itself for lack of self-awareness and an inability to slow down long enough to see its connection to one another.

This theme is also present when there’s a sense of unworthiness not deemed beautiful enough for the male gaze. The undercurrent of projection of our own unworthiness based upon its outer usefulness or characteristics, that may or may not be able to be controlled but what simply is. When we try to control everything because we can’t see the beauty in imperfection and the wisdom in the elders around us from all walks of life, we classify, judge and attribute a numerical value (unconsciously or consciously) instead of holding a place of honor and reverence for the gift of being alive and the individuals wisdom brought forth in that existence.

Ultimately, it’s our inability to see beyond the physical when we’ve lost touch with our inner voice, the soul that lives behind the flesh. When we learn to do this again, we create a world wrapped in beauty because we can see and feel another soul from its true essence, not what we want it to be, wish it was, and not for its contribution or ability to produce, but as a gift of its being alive and our honor in being part of that life, either as Steward or even just a moment of exchange.

There are a million other ways that farmer could have communicated that message…words that included care for life and the recognition that we have a responsibility beyond just convenience, production, and profit.

This mindset in our world is not healthy.

No one likes feeling like a piece of data…. but we did it to ourselves and it all starts with how we treat life….is it just a Resource to use up…. or a part of Source to cherish for its role within the totality of being gifted a moment to breathe…to bring the force of life…life-force into man-made constructs that more often than not fall short…. because we have forgotten to remember.

When we use language that reveals our world view as one where everything is there for us to just use up and discard, we make that way of being manifest unto ourselves.

The intention behind our words is a frequency projector…is it broadcasting hate or gratitude, an exchange of entitlement or thankfulness, hubris or humbleness?

With grace by the elder-tree,

Angela

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I’ve experienced and tested this myself.

Learning this about how the Universe works has helped me recognize when I’m in a loop, where I’m being asked to look at (and work on) something, or simply for a giggle from the cosmic jokester.

Now here’s when I say the cliché that no one ever actually seems to take to heart:

What you resist persists.

For example, if you always rebel against outer authority, maybe it’s actually not about the rebellion but an indicator of an inner authority lacking somewhere.

What we seek isn’t seeking us, it’s revealing us.

This isn’t something to label bad or good, it’s part of the experience.

When you can begin to realize this, even obstacles start to look like fun challenges.

Think of the movie Truman Show, he’s stranded in a boat at the height of struggle, in the same moment saying something along the lines of “is that all you’ve got, give me some more” --- the surrender sets in and the storm begins to dissolve.

If I succeeded at this all the time, then I wouldn’t have as much fun laughing at stupid things I do sometimes.

If we didn’t have this element to reality, we’d be boring AF.

Whether you pray, wish, plan, hope, meditate, or whatever….it will never come the way you imagined.

…and that’s good.

Because the surprises of life are where mystery shows up and informs you of your newfound wisdom.

For example, when I moved to the countryside with visions of influencers wearing frilly dresses and tending a garden that has no mosquito’s, bugs, or natural adversaries, not only was I wrong, (I didn’t really think this, just using this an example), but I would have missed all the “fun.”

Today, I was mowing the yard (listen, I wish I could just let it all grow wild but I’ve got more ticks and mice hiding in the tall grass than the amount of air that exists, so I’m mowing) and my hefty John Deere Zero Turn caught fire and a flame was coming out of the back like we were about to zoom ourselves into the atmosphere.

All I could think of was how I probably looked like some version of a John Candy movie and am thankful there are no flock cameras documenting this.

My reflexes immediately turned off the mower, and I hopped off in perfect time with a toad escaping the fiasco beside me.

I thought about it for a minute, called John Deere, but they were closed.

Then, I realized it must have been some grass that blocked the hose pipe thingy near the electrical doodad thingamajig and I hosed it down with water (very technical), so it wasn’t hot, then removed all the dried grass clippings.

Hot Dog, it started up (I did have a fire extinguisher at my feet and crossed my ankles and fingers for a fire-free finish) ….it worked.

I hauled my booty to the barn, kissed my rooster’s goodnight and thought to myself, “never in my life could I have planned this experience in my life.”

The resilience we gain and the lessons we learn from real life everyday stuff is actually profound.

This everyday lesson was a reminder to take care of what we have…the things…the machines…the being. Pay attention to your surroundings. Be prepared to be blasted off on a mowing rocket at at any moment. (or to be able to simply laugh at yourself). ;-)

If you want more patience, you’re going to be given SITUATIONS to make your impatient self, PATIENT.

If you want more money, you’re going to be given OPPORTUNITY that usually requires one of the following to overcome: fear of being seen, fear of having money, time spent learning a new skill, or having the courage to bring your Gifts into the world.

If you want more love, you’re going to be given a chance to LOVE, often times not easy love, but the kind that breaks you…the kind that says can you love someone who is not in a good place, can you take care of an animal that is hurt, can you be inconvenienced to show up when it counts, can you love what feels so unloveable…. because love it not a feeling, it’s much more than that…. you want love…you’re going to be given chances to first LOVE.

If you want more friends, you’re going to be given SITUATIONS to be a FRIEND…. like helping someone move, calling someone to check on them, or going into social situations that you absolutely despise to support someone else.

Everything you desire comes with an experience to shape you into the thing you want otherwise you can never fully receive it.

I’m not talking about manifesting things for the sake of having things either, I’m talking about character, depth, and qualities that make us better humans, better stewards and real….the things we desire always come back to this.

The modern world wants everything to be logical, rational, or controlled, but this is not love, nor life, nor reality.

Everything good in this realm comes with a healthy dose of irrationality (no matter how much knowledge we have).

This is why your intuition, no matter how many new agers on the tele-screen say-so, will not be something that always guides you towards what feels good.

Feeling good from a place of self-soothing comfort is not the same as feeling the sense of knowing what is right…right feels light (EVEN if it’s scary, EVEN if your intuition is nudging you into uncomfortableness) …wrong feels more like a weight (for example, when you get stuck in your head overthinking instead of listening to clues from your body when you already know the answer but wish you didn’t…I know you know what I mean).

Just like the earth grows plants that nourish the soil, so too, do we invite in all kinds of flowers and weeds into our own lives to help our soul…and character…. we’re being amended so we can grow…we are just like a tree or a flower.

Sometimes we’re asked to bloom, knowing this is the peak of a cycle…sometimes we’re asked to begin….life seasons move in, and through, seasons like a spiral, even when all seems linear.

Life experiences that we thrust ourselves into, instead of being dragged, facilitate the journey to inner peace and prosperity.

The treasure always has to be dug up…. otherwise, it will sit in waiting inside the chamber of the earth…the heart.

When we move from one way of being to another, from one place to another, we volunteer to be chiseled and refined a little bit deeper.

We choose the tower moments, or it will choose for us.

Sometimes it easier than others to recognizing the timing of this.

We’re like children who don’t want to change…and I really think that’s ok…we respond, we face what each day brings, we do our best.

So, whatever you’re resisting…. whatever you want to go away…it will often leave us alone faster when we allow it all to be what it will be fully, sometimes painfully, and irritatingly uncomfortable …and recognize the gift its giving…and revealing in us by its presence.

…. because it’s hard, most people will avoid it.

Hey Earth School, we’re on to your tricks…. just kidding, we really don’t know anything.

Seriously, the world is amazing and there is so much wisdom hiding in a single leaf, an evening sunset, or with the bite of a delicious fruit…the path to self-ownership is in recognizing and choosing the shape of our lives we’re creating, but also recognizing our impact on life around us.

Is it irrational…. allowing the unknown to guide us…. doubt to humble us…surrender to encompass us…. love to envelop us…. joy to lift us up?

Or

Is it rational…. grasping so hard at comfort that the comfort itself can only be uncomfortable…planning every moment…. thinking we know it all…. keeping our hearts at always at arm’s length?

Life is a lesson and the best people dive into the hardest ones.

To move beyond resistance is to move through it.

Thank you Universe, we’re ready,

~ Angela

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It reminds us to laugh, to stop, and to be present.

Note, I’m including the super-nature-al in this assessment.

I like to imagine four-leaf clovers as gifts from the fae. They wait and wonder if we’ll “notice” and they cheer when we find the magic of being present…and find the present.

Sometimes I feel like I walk by a tree when working in the yard and it intentionally brushes my arm or face to say hi…Ok buddy, you need a hug, I’ve got you. Or maybe I’m wrong and it’s trying to slap me for doing something stupid like the trees throwing apples at Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. Ok, It’s a hug….though it likely knows I need one more than it.

Last week I had a mourning dove get lost inside the chicken run predator proof netting and couldn’t find his way out (they have an opening). I picked him up and took him to the area they can fly in or out, opened my hands and he was free to fly…but he didn’t…he sat there in my hands….then he turned and gave me a questionable look. I am convinced he was memorizing my face and spreading the news of my helpful disposition to the others, but what I do know really, he could have been like lady, what the heck? Either way, it was a moment of meaningful curiosity and finally he bid me farewell and flew away.

Then there’s Alexander, my most flirtatious rooster. If he’s not getting attention he goes behind my back and gives me a gentle peck in the booty then runs off.

Nature is playful and mischievous.

There are so many examples, but there’s one that stood out and prompted me to write this post today.

The MISCHEVIOUS MOCKINGBIRD!

Falling in love with birds over the years, I share space with a mockingbird family, especially this little guy in the video and he’s hilarious.

He does the weirdest things and has let me get pretty close to him as he’s learned I’m no threat.

I have an old outdoor cat who mostly stays on the porch, but occasionally meanders with a march like gait slowly to the barn to pretend to hunt mice before deciding the cozy porch is more ideal for his lux life and returning.

This cat, Binxy, makes a distinct cat sound different than my other cats.

For many months I would be outside cleaning the coop, weeding, swimming, or doing other chores and I kept hearing Binxy make his little cat sound that is sort of like a whine for food. It’s hard to type out phonetics that could describe this sound….cat version of wuhwrr? huhrrr?

Finally, after thinking I was going mad, I spotted the culprit.

The mischievous mockingbird was mocking my cat!

He’d see me out, make the cat sound, then watch me look around wondering where the cat was.

I am certain he is quite amused with himself and I don’t blame him.

It’s a rather entertaining trick.

This little magician had me fooled.

I do not think this is an instance of imitation being a form of flattery either, as we know cats and birds don’t mix. Maybe it’s a way for the bird to get back at the threat imposed by the sneaky feline.

Now, I’m wondering if I can mimic a mockingbird sound and return the joke? LOL.

Of course there are types of mockery that can be cruel, but this is not that. I don’t think I need to elaborate.

I had not thought much, until this happened, about what types of sounds mockingbirds can mimic and it turns out, it’s rather vast.

“Northern Mockingbirds can mimic over 200 different sounds, including the songs of various birds, the calls of frogs, the sounds of crickets, and even mechanical noises like car alarms and lawn mowers.”

Just like your socks that get eaten by the dryer in the supernatural portal to another realm, so, too does nature have a mischievous side.

Humans that recognize this can bring more joy to daily life and interactions with nature. By recognizing the levity available with being present and building relationship with the world around us we bring care and respect, instead of being a passerby or thinking we’re above it.

Even in moments like this where I find myself give a momentary laugh to the little exchange with the mockingbird and find gratitude for my spirits being lifted….also I wonder how I can do the same in return.

Nature knows, and as such, it will let you see only what you are ready to see…only when you’ve shown yourself to be trustful.

The magic of life will meet you where you are at.

Mischief makers of the natural and supernatural world are looking to see if we’re still in touch with our own curiosity and child-like nature…that playful part of our inner-state that reveals a sense of reverence and is open to touching the intangible awe wrapped inside mundane days.

Nature isn’t mischievous because it’s trying to trick us, it’s a way to interact WITH us.

And so, the mischievous mockingbird will likely continue to fly around and make cat sounds like Binxy the cat and I couldn’t be more delighted.

We all need a little positive mischief making and play in this wacky world….if you can’t find it, look to the trees and befriend a bird…they might just surprise you.

The mockingbird reminds us of the importance of individual expression, communication, creativity and playfulness.

Ask yourself, what are you still mimicking from societal programming and conditioning that needs to be relinquished to greater self discovery? Children mimic as a tool for learning, but when this turns to copying and repeating in adulthood, without critical thinking, we bury our true nature, thus we miss the joy of our individuality…the mockingbird teaches us this.

Deeply symbolic of the importance of innocence, if the mockingbird is speaking (even in cat language), listen up. ;-)

(Unfortunately I haven’t been able to capture the sound to share, but if I do, I will update this post) :)

~ Mews and Mocks,

Angela

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Maybe it’s never possible to “fully” disconnect, I don’t know.

Every comfort is a tether.

Every distraction is a reminder.

Every temptation is an invitation to return.

Every justification back is a tie still in a knot.

No matter how awakened you are, there is always another level to unravel, another way to see.

Things we resist or hate still hold messages for us.

Things we fight or surrender to still play tug of war.

Thoughts we thought were captured return to capture us.

As soon as you think you hold the ultimate gnosis, you have opened the door for a humbling.

As soon as you think you’ve ascended or fully awakened, the shadow grows bigger creating a new tower.

Often we tell ourselves we are free, but still trade our time for a value that doesn’t come any closer to the priceless nature of being alive.

There’s a responsibility, it seems, to helping each other return home, which is always a return to the treasure held inside.

The treasure grows dusty and the container rusts when we fiddle away the years never stopping to open it, take it out, squeeze it, hold it, “treasure” it. It slips through our fingers in the time harvesting games of modern life. It is tangible yet invisible. The treasure opens when we crack, when we let buried pain surface, when we let sorrow encompass, when we let grief show us what love really is.

It moves fast and slow, slow and fast.

It is never linear, it never lasts.

It makes no promises for the future, no return to the past.

It holds freedom, but cannot be held.

Freedom is not granted by government.

Freedom comes from reclaiming our time, attention, and peace. A remembrance of joy through connection by way of disconnection. A place that lives inside of us all….a field of Creation contained inside an un-containable container.

The paradise is the paradox.

When we can hold this without dissonance, the narrow path becomes a meandering road, not a rigid straight and narrow….this is the irony, this is the reclamation of two sides of the same bird….the creative and logical not only meet in the middle but must become upright again from the inversion.

Time is freedom, but discerning the nuance of this statement is necessary for it is as varied as the seasons.

People pretend they are free, then return to the American dream which is much more of a nightmare. There’s no wonder no one wants to wake up from it.

We can’t change the world, but we can change our inner whirled. With each outer layer of restriction imposed through mass support of tyrannically imposed overreach and suffering, it’s our individual job to find freedom inwardly. It’s so hard when you see the world cheering for its own demise, supporting its own harm, and begging to be enslaved…unconsciously or by turning a blind eye. The only thing I can do is ask myself where this still lives in me that needs to be cracked open, where are there more layers of limitations to cut through…because no one is going to save us but ourselves.

Nothing imposed by threat is for your safety, no matter how eloquent the rhetoric sounds or how good the propaganda is at reinforcing the narrative.

It all sucks away our time and energy, it only consumes because it cannot create.

The good news is that we can create AND choose what we consume…and what we allow to consume us.

May we all find the time to unlock the treasures buried within our bones before our bones are buried,

Don’t just let freedom ring, let it live in our daily choices, I certainly have my own work cut out for me, too,

Remember, we cannot tell time without the rays of the sun and it casts a shadow to remind us of its passing nature, tick-tock,

Angela

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Zeeza the Duck was incredibly special to me.

She had an ethereal personality and eyes that felt like they held the wisdom of all of life.

I think I’ve talked about this before, but ducks, being water animals, hold an uncanny ability to touch emotions.

Sit with a duck for a while and you’ll feel that energy-in-motion rise where dormant.

Zeeza drew the short straw for life.

Always picked on.

Always bullied.

Constantly suffering with physical ailments.

Always persevering.

Always quacking.

Always my teacher.

I tried to give her the best life I could despite the many challenges.

She knew this.

When I held her she’d wrap her neck around mine as if to say I trust you.

Unlike most ducks, she welcomed forehead kisses, belly rubs and little pets on her feathers and cheeks.

She had a painful last 24 hours of life, but she passed on her own timing gifting me with NOT having to make that difficult decision.

Digging another grave in the backyard is surreal.

The sweat turned into tears that poured into the hole in the ground as I shoveled.

Placing her there as a gift to mother earth, while feeling the heaviness of packing the dirt over her body in a final farewell.

She inspired me to write a children’s book about her and I’m so grateful to have this memory forever.

She inspired me to love a little bit deeper.

She inspired me to wake up with joy as the first thing I heard every morning for years when I opened the coop door was her quacking and honking eager to start the day as she waddled to the water.

There was an eerily quietness the day after her death, no more Zeeza…my duck days have come to an end, at least for a little while.

Emotions are heavy as I’ve been in a season of loss of those I love and all I can do is feel it, let the tears come when they choose, and remember the sacredness of life.

Everything we think matters in this existence is secondary to taking part in the flow of life that is at hand….savoring time with those we love….moving through the seasons…bidding them farewell when the time comes….honoring what matters most each day.

Ducks are a mess and caring for them takes work…and I wouldn’t trade that time for anything else, no fancy trips away, nothing was more important than filling the water at 5 am, rain or shine, and listening for the sweet sounds of a joyfully quacking duck coming forth.

She would go straight for her kiddie pool where I gave her floating food and she’d gobble it up in a way that was hilarious and far better than Pacman or any video game.

Zeeza was not just a duck, she was my friend.

If you don’t have animals in your life, I highly recommend befriending one and opening your heart courageously to the gifts they will bring to your life, ever how inconvenient, costly, messy, or time taking… it will transform you beyond any life coach or therapist.

Our animal friends are the shamans of the earth and we’re all just here to love and help one another through…

Rest in Peace my lovely Zeeza…shine on swimmingly,

Angela

I think we all have this “drive” inside of us, but it gets hijacked.

I think we need to take back this word.

In the modern world, ambition has become synonymous with:

- Always Striving (no matter if it is with meaning or not) instead of working towards something intentionally

- Achievements (the kind that comes with approval as accepted by society) instead of doing something for the sake of self-mastery or creativity

- Hustle (as a form of self-abandonment for someone else’s dream) instead of digging in your heals to follow the nudges that light you up

Hopefully, one day we realize we’re stuck inside a system that’s using us and get out.

Then what?

Then you have to sit with what ambition actually means?

Does it mean relentlessly pursuing your passion, purpose, pleasures or talents?

Ok, but why?

Is it because we want to change the world…because that’s always an inside job (literally and intrinsically) …we can’t change another person, and inspiration can’t be forced on anyone either.

In pursuit of something that we can call our own, in whatever way that looks like for you, we are then faced with the harsh reality that blooming is also death.

Maybe this is why people fear success or are unable to allow themselves to receive abundance, not just abundance from a life well lived, from health, from joy, from play, from relationships…but actual currency (energy and money) ?

Money is, after all, about flow…about water…. if it’s in motion (like e-motion), then it is shaping the landscape of someone or something. If it is stagnant, it grows algae and is not as useful or in connection to the life around it.

So, ambition becomes something we have to direct, like the flow of energy.

If we direct it towards something we desire, for the sake of the desire itself: learning an art, a craft, reading a book series, learning a dance, starting a business, whatever it is, then we gain wealth in the form of energy, perception shift, personal insight, and joy.

If we direct it towards something we’re skilled at or passionate about driven by heart and the highest held intention, but for profit AND purpose, then we open the door for money to come in, but it can only flow into the size of container that can hold it.

These are not mutually exclusive.

Things always mesh together.

This is where this image I took this morning of a magnolia comes into play.

I planted this small magnolia two years ago; it just had its first bloom.

When we look at nature, there is no doubt it has ambition.

It wants to bloom in its fullness…no matter what…. even if it means death.

Because once a flower blooms, the next phase is the petals falling into decay.

This does not stop the flower as it has no fear of this part of the cycle.

If you ever cared for anything, it wants to live…it wants to thrive…but it also seems to understand when to fall limp and give itself over in acceptance of its time coming to a close.

Humans often fear death and when we fear death, we fear blooming for they are not separate.

Blooming requires ambition.

Have you ever seen a crooked tree or a flower sprout up through concrete?

Even moving beyond its natural form all natural forms seem to reach in a trajectory for life, for growth.

We are no different.

The joy of creating is wonderful, exceeding any form of climbing the hierarchal ladder of the world’s systems.

The sense of fulfillment that comes from authoring life with what we do have control over, is rewarding beyond any worldly achievement.

But beneath it all, there is a desire, I believe, for us all to bloom in our wholest version of being and squeezing life to its fullest expression.

But this means we have to recognize that in that fullness, the petals will eventually drop.

So, there is artificial ambition that ignores the reality and moves in the rat race of illusion. It drains you because it is not real. It can never reach full bloom.

But true ambition is intentional work towards something that lights us up. It energizes that ambition because it is fuel for the soul and heart and, in turn, the whole of everything that lives…without trying to force or change anyone or anything else.

There is no coercion.

So to be authentically ambitious is to be like this Magnolia flower.

It’s tiny dead inner stems laying out upon the fully expanded petal as if it is giving its beautiful bloom away…it became its fullest expression knowing this is a gift that will be handed back to the earth.

Whether it achieved money or views was never its reason for blooming, nor did it allow the fear of death stop it.

To have ambition is no guarantee of anything, but the ambition itself.

It’s when we listen to the call inside of us and go do the things that are nudging us, little thoughts that never die, synchronicities that wave to us like dares from the Divine.

According to etymoline, the definition at first glance may seem negative.

mid-14c., ambicioun, “eager or inordinate desire for honor or preferment,” from Old French ambicion (13c.), or directly from Latin ambitionem (nominative ambitio) “a going around,” especially to solicit votes, hence “a striving for favor, courting, flattery; a desire for honor, thirst for popularity,”

Lord knows we don’t need more politicians, false flattery, or thirst for popularity in a sort of “my precious” Smeagol world.

But, honor, we need.

Genuine flattery by way of encouragement and kindness in a digital world that lays down judgements and criticisms with no thought of the nasty spells being cast, we need.

When we’re children that ambition shows up in innocent, “look what I can do,” gestures where curiosity and learning are displayed, not for validation, but the joy of sharing. It’s where we gain feedback from family and friends, which in a healthy environment would help us learn what we’re good at and encourage us to follow it.

Unfortunately, bitterness, distraction, jealousy, and unfulfilled dreams often turn these lovely moments into coping mechanisms and the beginning of lifelong patterns that guide us off course.

Allowing that child-like ambition to permeate our being without losing our maturity as adults is what turns worldly ambition into focusing on building treasures that outpour from the heart instead of hoarding treasures and achievements from the system’s obedience trophies.

There is a difference.

Striving to make the most of life, from its simplest most mundane forms to striving to show up and honor life by creating something, building something, learning, and/or experiencing and witnessing the splendor of being alive is a healthy ambition.

Instead of marketing mayhem online, people genuinely want to see you and your talents, gifts, what lights you up, what feeds your soul and what wisdom you have to teach.

Is it in dishonor NOT to share it, maybe so.

Is it in honor to hoard it like a treasure thinking that to keep it secret is to deem it sacred, I doubt it.

I know the magnolia was happy for someone to witness it in its fullest bloom for when gifts are shared it’s a felt exchange with the witnesser.

The digital world has turned the innocent child-like “look at me” from a celebratory event of showcasing talent or hard work on the journey to becoming a full bloom into a spectacle of circus-like deception to entice sales, not from a genuine place of resonance, but an insatiable place of missing inner work that is trying to fill a void.

From writing to dancing to stopping to smell the sweet magnolia’s, the world needs the genuine you…. you can’t shine your light for others if you never leave the cave.

Instead of being afraid to bloom, be like this magnolia, knowing that you’re giving away a precious gift instead of holding onto it for yourself because you can’t take it with you when you leave. To bloom is to transcend the fear of holding both death and abundance in its vastness within our vessel of being human.

Don’t be a Smeagol.

Your gifts matter so much more than you know.

Positive ambition is where your “gold,” the unique treasure you hold within you, is forged into the material world.

Now go bloom you beautiful being!

I know there’s ambition in you to be reclaimed.

It isn’t a bad word unless we allow someone else’s definition to become our own.

Ambition dies and wanes, but a new bloom is always wanting to bud.

It’s the seeds that are planted that determine the direction, the scent, the visual display, the sensorial evocation…and invocation. Will it form a sweet smelling bloom or be unable to open up?

Can we still find ways to bloom beyond the digital realm we’ve be handed…I think so…after all, just look at the flowers.

Ambition without heart and soul builds a cage to feed the machine of dead systems. The irrational side of you waits for you to cut the weight of ambition of the world that sees you as data, a producer for it’s gain, and reclaim the spark that fuels a deeper ambition in a healthy way.

Note to self.

…and deep gratitude for the lessons way of Magnolia blooms,

open arms = open petals…follow the flowering example,

Angela

P.S. I love this magnolia bloom so much, just look at it….arms/petals open with an offering on display, the center jewel protected by the back petal…I could buzz on and on about it. We look for magic to endure the world around us, forgetting what’s in our own backyard!

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So often we think the human species is more evolved, that because we have “words” and the opportunity to “choose” we are somehow more conscious.

When you look around the world today, really look, it becomes incredibly obvious that isn’t true.

Nature always initiates us when we respect her. It’s not a one-time thing; it’s an ongoing relationship.

My one Ameracauna Hen, Trishy, fell ill this past weekend.

I found her unable to move lying in the grass.

I try to catch the early signs of issues, but I fail. Could I have saved her if I realized she wasn’t feeling well earlier, I don’t know.

What I do know is this is my first poultry to expire since I began this journey.

Mite infestations, coop issues, and rats eating the food have been some of the challenges we’ve overcome.

Animals have feelings and personalities. The magic they offer up inside daily mundane tasks is ever present when we open our hearts to see it…feel it…participate in it.

Trishy was the smallest hen and a little spaz. She was always running a million miles an hour even when no one was chasing her. She was the first in the coop at night and she had secret hiding places to escape to. We had little secret arrangements for food so she wouldn’t be the last to eat and, unlike my roosters, she was my only hen that actually liked being held.

A luna moth appeared above her “chicken hospital” and I wanted to believe it was a sign of hope but deep down I knew that Luna was offering a message of timing for departure.

I tried for days to nurse her back to health, but this time my efforts didn’t work.

After building trust with the avian kingdom for the past 5 years, I noticed a mockingbird sitting on the fence watching me as I held Trishy and tried to help her.

He’d fly off then come right back, each time getting closer, each time watching us for a good while.

I know he was relaying a message…to whom or what I’m not sure but he knew there was a bird unwell.

Trishy held on a long time despite her body already beginning to go into rigor mortis. I knew there was no going back so I gave her a comfy safe place to rest as she moved on from this life.

I dug her little grave and wrapped her in a floral print cotton towel.

Trishy brought so much life into her quick-witted steps to this property. Her hustle and bustle were like a motor that kept energy flowing. Seeing her busy body come to an end, was surreal.

Moments after her passing a hummingbird shows up at my window and I’ve never had a single hummingbird here in 5 years. It lingered by the window making sure I saw it. It was the perfect expression of Trishy being that they flitter and flutter quickly, too. I got the message.

I remembered my father had left me with a feeder that I never hung up. How fitting that Memorial Day this all took place. My father helps me from beyond through this process.

I made up some sugar water and hung the feeder. Now, every time I see one outside, I’ll think of Trishy…. the fast footed hen with a precious personality.

Digging a grave in the yard is not fun, but also, it’s an honor to be gifted with this task and experience.

I buried her by the chicken run and planted a flower, rest in peace sweet soul.

She wasn’t just a chicken; she was a friend.

The animal kingdom speaks without words, and they feel the energy that comes through ours…. they see it with their extra visual perception that is beyond human capabilities.

It is our job to be with them, to help them, as they help us.

Hold them when they die, honor them when they leave, do not turn from the sorrow…taste the salty tears that meander down your cheek and let them remind you that you have participated in a great exchange of love….and this is the shared purpose we all carry beyond our individual gifts.

Backyard burials are inevitable.

Just don’t bury your love, instead let it fly…and flitter…and hum.

That’s what Trishy would say…. that’s what the hummingbird displays.

It’s no coincidence the tiniest creatures take up such big rooms in our hearts. They show us that life is so much bigger than what we can imagine. They teach us that our attention should always turn towards what is life giving….to recognize the value and importance of each living thing. They remind us that our capacity for love is to push ourselves to see how much of it we can hold…even when we know that love will end in the physical world….but can never fade from existence, moving with us as we, too, one day will expire.

May your love grow today like a flower planted during an ending.

May you hold the tiniest things in great reverence and remember to love even when that may mean losing the physical attachment.

With love for animals…and life…beginnings and endings,

Angela

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That was a breaking point.

But, like many things, these strange experiences throughout life often come full circle.

I’ve been quiet lately, grieving, feeling, dancing, spring cleaning, basking, being in awe of life.

So often people think they don’t belong here…I used to feel that way too.

A longing to be somewhere else…a desire to find home among the stars…a search for “something beyond” the here and now.

Then one day I realized, I do belong upon this land because, like the elements that are in play continuously around us, so am I made up of the same energies.

I belong:

Just like the bee to a flower.

Just like a bird to a nest.

Just like a field of dandelions to a wish.

Even when it doesn’t feel like it.

Because it’s not about belonging to a group, a system, a title, a label…it’s about belonging to yourself.

And you are a part of nature like everything else.

People that fit into groups think they belong, but often it’s an illusion…a changing of self to “fit in.” This isn’t belonging, it’s conformity.

News flash, you get to take up space, not because of some arbitrary attempt to tell yourself you are worthy, but simply because you are…you.

When I work with a client in feng shui, I have to first ensure I’m practicing what I preach, taking my own advice.

Today, as I picked up petals, I realized how much I had changed since the 25-year-old me was lost in a mis-aligned situation.

I picked up petals, not because of any means of seeking to control or perfect the landscape, but to give gratitude and offering.

I noticed the silky texture of a petal feels like it was dipped in a powdery coating…. I stopped to smell the fragrance…nothing synthetic, just purely heart opening.

I felt like creating with the fallen leaves and flowers around the yard. I picked up rose petals, dandelion, pine cones, rooster feathers, catnip, holly leaves, buckeye, comfrey, and mock orange.

It’s windy, a storm is coming…. I made a smiling tree…it’s ripe with possibility…feathered branches waving with lost sentimentality…. freedom gathered up in dandelion kisses…little white petals acting out their role as stars…. the rocks aiding in extra rootedness as symbolic preparation.

It’s not symmetrical….It’s not perfect…it’s not manicured…it’s Beauty in bloom….abundance without needing to plan, perfect or purchase anything.

My land-offering exists from things making their way back to dust.

Beauty from life belonging to itself.

Beauty from a simple exchange.

It cost nothing, but a little ambition and a sense of wholeness reaching around for assuredness that, though this is temporary, like life….it is also everlasting.

And the wind will come….and things will blow and break and change and move on….and then I’ll pick up some more petals and paint another picture with the abundance that blankets home.

Do you notice where you accidentally give away your belonging?...to distractions, to situations, to convenience, to anything else but the sovereignty that lives in your bones ready at any moment to override the noise. The world wants you to belong to it, to a group, to a way of being, to ideas that may not resonate with who you are, can you differentiate between them without losing yourself?

It’s not easy…. but, just like the wind must eventually become calm again, so can we keep coming back to center, back to heart, back to breath, back to the beauty of life.

Because I belong here…. I belong to myself…I belong to life…I belong to the land…I belong to it all…just as much as a petal or a leaf, a branch or pinecone…together we weave…together we take what is dying and forge ahead…fire - air - water - earth…the beauty of life is exposed by our individual touch….we create life by living it, by belonging to it, not merely watching it pass us by…the elements speak without words…and so it is.

Onward in beauty from a smiling tree,

~ Angela

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In 2025, my rooster Henry was mauled by my dog.

I’ve had chickens for 4 years and, while we’ve had plenty of other random issues, only twice has this type of incident occurred. I do everything I can to keep separation and barriers up and free ranging when my dog is sleeping on her porch and can’t get out.

Henry was laying there unresponsive and a chunk of his neck and feathers on the ground beside him. Thankfully I was able to stop the attack immediately.

Henry was in shock.

I’d nursed hens back to help with various issues like egg yolk peritonitis or mites, but this was new.

I popped up the nylon temporary play-pen shelter “thingie” I use sometimes for animal situations and set it up in the sun room.

Henry needed rest. I cleaned the wound, said a prayer, got him some electrolytes, and let him rest. I also used tuning forks.

Day 1, then 2, then 3 went by, He was nibbling at food.

I held him, as that seemed to give him comfort. I wanted to reassure him he was safe.

About 6 weeks and he was healed. The feathers hadn’t grown back but the wound was sealed up and he was getting antsy.

I was nervous to return him as he was the head Roo and the dynamics had changed with him gone. I feared they would see him as vulnerable but I also knew I had to let them re-establish dominance. Henry lives in a rooster bachelor coop with 3 other roosters.

After weeks of “light” fighting, a little blood, and a lot of feathers flying, Henry was back in the command position of the flock.

Things were weird for a while. His skin was a bright red. I was concerned for infection, though it could have been hormones as he was just moving out of teenager phase into full blown adult roo’hood.

Henry was brave and unphased, but he taught me trust. We built a special bond during this time together. He was relying on me to help him heal but he was teaching me all the while.

Watching Henry heal was so heart touching. I realized that animals heal quickly because they don’t have the mental chatter that halts them…no diagnosis, no “fear” to get in the way and no worry or wondering about outcomes….no resistance created from “just wanting the pain to go away.”

I’m sure he did want the pain to go away, he was eager to get back outside, but without any self-realizing prophecy to make things go one way or another, like humans when we are dealing with ailments, he was giving his body time to just do what it would naturally do, heal.

A year later, Henry is thriving. He fully trusts me still and submits to me. He’s gentle with me and protective. He knows I helped him….and maybe he knows he helped me too.

Some people think I’m silly for helping a rooster heal that’s badly injured. I heard people make fun or just say to kill him.

I think that I’m glad I’m not like those people. If you’ve ever helped any animal with anything, it’s clear, they want to live as much as we do.

A little inconvenience for me for a while was worth every bit to see this beauty in such magnificent health and splendor now. (photo I took 4/4/26 of Henry above).

I was determined not to ever let this happen again….and then it did.

This time it was much worse.

My main roo, Roosseau (Henry’s dad), somehow got out (I’m still not sure how), and once again, my dog (who is well fed) decided to bite down. (She’s a sweet dog, but if they flap their wings or run her instincts kick in).

The injury was much worse than with Henry.

On one hand I knew what to do and was optimistic because I’d been through this before.

On the other hand, this was really bad and I had to look at the gore of it all and take responsibility despite feeling like I wanted to both pass out and cry.

As much as I dislike vets for their poison vaccinations, I had to get Henry to emergency care.

Unfortunately, the wound was too vast to operate as there wasn’t enough skin to pull anything together.

We went home and I started a similar protocol as with Henry.

In order to keep the scar tissue from getting firm and gristly, I had to do hydrotherapy once or twice a day for 10 to 15 minutes (aka, spray the area with the hose nozzle).

I thought I was going to be fighting a rooster in the bathroom, but nope, he loved it.

Like Henry, he knew I was helping him.

This was a much more serious situation and a lengthy process, but I had hope after seeing Henry heal and I wasn’t going to let my own doubts project out onto Roosseau.

This is an invaluable lesson for us all….we CAN heal and we’ve go to get out of our own way.

Here’s a video of Roosseau in the tub (hopefully not too gruesome as this is after the wound had healed and we were on the upswing of recovery two months or so out):

It’s simple really:

CLEAN
REST
LOVE
HEAL

Keep your mind CLEAN.
Keep your heart FULL.

Animals RESPOND to OUR energy. (like people though they are more sensitive as they see things in a spectrum we cannot)

We can learn so much from them.

I was nervous to let Roosseau out as his bare neck was a vulnerability and I also didn’t want him getting pecked or sunburned.

I had been opening the door so he could see his hens while he recovered.

He was eager to get back out there and the hens were stir crazy without him.

I let my own fears of him getting hurt or sunburned go and he went home to his coop..

I took my nervousness, tried to set it aside, and knew I could check on him and assess daily how things were going.

I went out to the coop in the mornings and kept some ointment on the wound for a while.

Little by little he healed all the way up.

It seemed like an eternity for his feathers to grow back and I never thought they would fill out like they did with all the scarring.

What a miracle.

Like Henry, Roosseau and I gained a new level of trust.

I learned that when we stop thinking so damn much (hard for me not to), then things can just do what they are meant to do….and the body wants to heal.

Roosseau is doing great. He can see Henry through the fence across the way. Father and son, wounded warriors….my little heroes.

Now, when I see them, I’m not just observing chickens being chickens, I’m observing the power of Spirit, of life, of love and connection to something far greater than ourselves.

(top photo 2025 injury recovering, bottom photo Roosseau 4/4/26)

These times remind me there is so much more to life than sitting around thinking about life.

There is so much more to this realm than anything on these screens can ever give.

There is so much more to life than we can ever explain or understand.

There is so much mystery to embrace.

Healing is always happening…even when it seems impossible….even when things seem to get worse before getting better….even when all seems lost.

Talking about spirituality is very different than the reality of living a spiritual life.

A place to rest, to feel safe, and a loving embrace can do more for healing than any “bio-hack.”

For the love of animals and their human companions,

Angela

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P.S. If you have children, you might like my book about my rooster bachelor’s, The Rooster Caboose!

Unordinary ordinary days are always available to us.

People who find these days are sometimes called delusional.

Don’t listen to that, that’s part of the inversion.

Because some people forgot how to connect the imagination with the heart.

They can’t see the invisible right in front of them.

Blank spaces tether the tangible in extraordinary ways.

Bridges grow from falling limbs and overgrowth.

Trees sprout up and things appear as if always there.

The supernatural lives WITH the natural….just add a “see.”

Butterflies dare you to follow them across fields of dandelion wishes.

I’m watching a bird splash in the bird bath as I write this. Magic doesn’t need a top hat, only water and wings.

The same flowers return year after year to climb the fence….violetess of the iron ladder.

Old trees share their wisdom and resources to help new growth as they slowly make an exquisite long departure.

This bird was playing a game with me….a new friend welcomed.

It all started this morning with the moon lingering on forever as if she would not set until the sun rose.

The ducks expressed gratitude in a theatrical display of duck duck (no goose).

One of my cat’s pretended to hunt mice as he’s gotten lazy in his old age.

And new plants and trees have sprouted up to reveal themselves including this peony. Considering I have zero gardening skills, everything I planted and forgot about it somehow thriving! Miracles abound!

These are images I captured in my yard on another unordinary ordinary day today (April 3, 2026).

Because life is magical when we give our attention to the liveliness of all that is a vast dream we can actually touch and interact with….because we are it.

Do you think the trees don’t ogle over your presence when you give them the opportunity to witness you….things are not one sided?

Ordinary days can be difficult.

Before coffee or anything to do with me, I make sure everyone is alive, fed, watered….mid-day comes with cleaning and petting, because love is what makes everything work.

Nothing artificial here, just a whole lot of realness.

This is my little family on my windy abode.

I hope you enjoyed coming along with me on another unordinary ordinary day. My heart is full to witness such beauty and share it with you.

In love, beauty…and irrationality,

Angela

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Yeah, you know the drill…the old me died, the new me awakened, yada yada.

But I realized I wasn’t fully embodying the new level of consciousness that enveloped me in what felt like the jaws of a great undesirable beast.

That sounds so damn cliché.

Each awakening sheds invisible scales…the world says it’s bliss…it feels more like a prying….a peeling….a prodding…a pulling…each time it gets easier. Each new perception comes with a shortened window of dissonance.

Nevertheless, it’s a beast no one ever talks about in the love and light facades where the masks are just changed out with new outfits that fit the new persona, not because it resonates with who you really are, but because the new mask is needed to fit within a new system.

I wasn’t just burned out; I was burned up.

Reality hadn’t caught up with the death of old versions I created to survive.

Reality hadn’t caught up with the death of the routines, habits and perspectives still ingrained in my cells.

Reality hadn’t caught up with the death of eyes that saw the world with a rosy filter.

Standing outside with mismatched socks, a nightgown, and a hair bun scrubbing dried duck diarrhea off the kiddie pool, I realized, the resistance I felt to shedding old comforts, old expectations, old patterns was attachment to my old life.

I’ve got to embrace the projectile poop from this honking gorgeous creature in order to let go of the shitty parts of the old ways that weren’t working for me.

So much irony in this paradoxical realm.

No one knows shit.

Everyone thinks they are the shit.

Ducks have the right idea…no bullshit.

I even held a funeral for myself, it was amusing.

I imagined that everything everyone says about me when I’m gone will only be a half truth…because that’s the reality.

Maybe you can relate:

- You’ve gone through a lifetime of awakenings but still feel like you’re sleepwalking sometimes.

- You’ve done all the things you were told a “conscious” person supposedly should do but still feel like you’re performing tasks labeled by an unattainable ideal.

- You’ve died to your old self, buried your ego in a box in the backyard along with the fantasies you created to cope with a world of gaslighting and fatigue but still feel deep down that annihilation of ego is it’s own fallacy (because it is).

It seems like it’s all still a program of lack…. even when it looks good, sounds good, feels good.

When we think we need what we don’t have, we look to fill the gap.

It doesn’t have to be called “spiritual,” because everything already is.

I had transformed but was still holding on to the relationship with my old self.

I didn’t want to let her go…she’s all I knew.

Then I decided to do some spring cleaning.

The top shelf that I dared not venture into shouted at me as if it wanted to throw the contents at me like those trees throwing apples at Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz.

I decided to beat it to the punch and pull everything down.

It held the shoes that the old me wore.

Adorable brand name pumps.

Kitten heels to “die for.” (oh the words we weave indeed tell a story).

Not quite stilettos for those extra special events.

Angry toes. Squished phalanges. Metatarsals on fire. Pain without any gain.

I’m not saying a cute pair of shoes don’t have their place, believe me, I love shoes but these literally no longer fit.

I thought about the times when I was a little girl and my grandmother would take me shoe shopping. She had a secret stash in a shoebox just for these moments… we were off to the races of shopping and sugary sweets.

I had special memories around shoes.

I had attached value to them based on experiences over their true value, genuine expression, and usefulness for the version of me that now exists.

The damage from standing at a slant completed its mission. Destroyer of feet.

And feet carry us through life, so let it be known, beyond the rubber soles that keep our “souls” from being grounded, a multitude of “shoe” styles are a PSYOP if ever there was one.

And it wasn’t just heels.

Old boots I loved but was “hanging on to.”

This and that, “just in case.”

You know what I’m talking about…. those things that we lie to ourselves about in order to justify keeping.

I was aware of the irony before me.

The shoes I once wore no longer fit.

The old me was gone.

It was time to finally break up.

I stopped to consider the version of me that wore these to impress, to make a statement, to express myself, to mask lack of confidence, to hide, to follow the “business” protocol for acceptable fashion, to show up at the social outings where people that knew me (her) had a certain expectation or vision for who she was and how she’d “appear.”

When things no longer fit, it’s time for it to go to a new home…. this doesn’t just apply to shoes or clothing …. but relationships, situations, etcetera.

When I work with a feng shui client I see this too.

People move but haven’t broken up with the relationship they held in their old house.

Energies travel.

Old stories packed in bags and stored in the attic.

Patterns carried over, but the picture becomes distorted.

So sometimes:

- Dying isn’t enough

- Waking up isn’t enough

- Burying your “unhealthy” aspects of ego isn’t enough

- Decluttering the attic isn’t enough

To change the story, you’ve got to change your nervous system, your shoes, and the relationship with the old versions of you…. acknowledge the bad, bring forth the good…. learn the lessons, and write a new script that includes silver linings…and soles.

You’ve got to break up with yourself…. for the new you to fully emerge.

The old shoes don’t fit.

And you know it.

Donate, trash, burn…let them go.

Only keep what aligns with who you are becoming or who you want to be.

If the shoes hurt, so will the path you walk.

When the path changes, you can’t hold on to the old one anymore and expect to go anywhere.

You can’t walk a new path in old shoes.

You can’t find a smooth road in shoes that don’t fit (literally or symbolically).

Fashion changes but the timeless nature of your being waits for you to tread with a gait that is your own.

When Dorothy clicked her heels 3 times and said “there’s no place like home,” she was referring to the heart….the golden bricked road needs our heels to heal…the 3 fold aspect is really an un-folding…the toes can only take you to-oz if you plant them…and wiggle them…and dance with them…and are willing to break up with the past so that you can move forward.

When you break up with the old you, take off those old shoes that carried that person …that carried you wonderfully through a necessary part of the journey….you open up space to walk into the you that you worked so hard to heal and discover…the revelation of the you that was buried beneath conditioning…the more alive, embodied, real you.

If the shoe fits,

~ Angela

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I like this song, seems appropriate for the post today:

In a way I haven’t felt quite myself.

In another way, I feel the energy of spring amping up where I tend to get a little chattier and more engaged in activities. The sight and scent of spring literally put a spring in my step.

Do you ever feel this way?

Not quite yourself.

Yet more than your usual self.

I feel like these are in-between moments where old aspects of self that are no longer resonant finally slough off and new parts, new ways, new beliefs are coming online…. coming alive…. finally re-writing that which was deprogrammed into its new script…. a script written by me instead of the system.

The essence of spring brings revelation to the inner changes that happened in winter…. not just within the actual seasons annually, but the seasons of life…. the changes of the inner world finally peeking out into reality.

No one ever talks about how de-programming really works.

It’s not an overnight thing.

It’s a process…. years.

It’s an exfoliation and excavation, it’s that inner work coming to light…. the hermit coming out of the cave.

I see it in the natural world where I live.

This little farmhouse and everything on this land is pushed to the limits by the elements, literally.

The trees are coiffed by howling gasps…. limbs thinned out and dropped to earth to compost.

The animals’ feathers wind-blown and fortified…. only feathers that can withstand the elements grow back.

We live in a fairy tale; the elements shout we’ll huff and puff and blow your house down…. but we’re still here.

My skin is chapped from the blistering winds….my feet wading in the water.

The morning sunrise and the evening sunset are the reward for our resilience.

Everything that stands here is grounded and strong.

All else blows away.

And in this time, I’ve been purified too.

The songbirds helped me heal the frequency into my ears.

The air cleansed my soul by way of every pore under attack by the Spirit of Breath.

The hardness of challenges softened my heart.

The overwhelm of obstacles, strengthened my creative insights to resolve…to resilience…to restore.

Rest demanded attention.

When you de-program you have to give yourself grace for the old programming to exit your vessel…. not just your mind, your subconscious…. but your nervous system, your marrow.

Gratitude swells.

Abundance reveals itself in sneaky ways…. far beyond what is normally perceived as such.

Flowers signal reminders to focus on what matters.

Scents travel up the nasal septum and beauty pours out in sentences spoken with a different kind of fervor.

A longing for simplification becomes a new kind of desire.

Destiny soars overhead.

The stars lure us into the night to dance in the moonlight.

All things change in an instance.

Calm washes over.

Nothing is and everything is.

Knowing turns into now-ing.

Gnosis turns into no-thing.

Breathing turns into serenity.

Presence resets the senses.

We start again.

Distractions dare us to fall back into old patterns.

We fail.

We succeed.

We repeat.

We change.

We learn.

We grow.

We bloom.

We die.

We live.

We are.

I am.

Life is.

Life is strange.

Ordinary is magical.

Accepting the in-between, the awkward, the transitions are necessary to become who you already are.

All is well.

Let your de-programming…your re-programming…. breathe…let it retract and expand…. let it hold fast to what is yours while being malleable to continuous refinement and change…. let it move with you…step onto different stages…. step out of the cages.

Be shaped and shape yourself.

Never set the paradox upon the shelf.

Un-programming from the programming is like a slow motion demolition…when you make friends with the detonator, the burn turns from fear of falling rubble into a lightness of passionate curiosity. The heaviness alchemizes. Simplicity rises. Beauty heightens.

And it’s strange all the while.

Because beneath the rubble your true self is like no one else in some ways….yet like everyone else in others.

Harmony reaches equilibrium.

Even if just for a moment…even if only in the liminal.

~

With love and strangeness,

Angela

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(The Fog was thick this morning (3-9-26)…moody morning photo from the porch.)

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It’s fascinating to me that when our views change (in regards to belief and perspective), they also change (literally, right before our eyes).

Today I “viewed” a who’s who of grand proportions.

Snacks were shared.

Songs were sung.

Things were happening.

Not on the news, but on the south side of a swaying river birch.

Words were not spoken, but things were said.

I’ve become a cat, dog, bird, duck guardian without any doing of my own.

They “flock” to me…get it….ok, ok, I know that’s not the best joke. :)

The blackbirds gathered for a spring planning meeting.

They have peacefully agreed that the location of the bird feeders meet the neighborhood un-association requirements for diversity in wildlife sharing and feel certain this dispersal throughout the yard will deter territorial hollering and hoopla.

Everybody’s happy…as long as seeds spill on the ground in accidental party planning and I refrain from getting a pinata filled with peanuts….though that does sound fun.

Speaking of birds, if you are interested in children’s books, subscribe to my website outside of Substack by clicking the link below… I, also, just wrote a little book of haiku about the ice storm that will launch soon. You can find out about this and more over here: https://thelivingquill.com/

Now back to the birds….to which I full recognize that write about frequently, but the truth is, they’ve got a lot more to say than me….the early bird does get the worm…wisdom speaks in songs from little beaks.

We all can use more bills….ok, another dorky joke…. coo coo … :)

~ Angela

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Is this programming?

Is this me?

Is this what I want?

Is this who I want to be?

Is this authenticity?

Life presents new opportunities to examine beliefs.

Even those beliefs held most true.

Even the beliefs that will hurt most to let go…to move through.

Even beliefs most rooted into an entire life history.

Yet, life isn’t just about knowing anything…. it’s not about information.
Knowledge doesn’t equate to wisdom, nor exaltation.
In a world of constant information, society morphs from nation into an amalgamation.
A digital scroll speaks messages in a Narcissus-like degeneration.

Are you seeking for data alone, or looking inside pages where heart and soul were left out of the book? Just because something said this or that doesn’t mean you’re on…or off…the hook.

Examining beliefs is a process of unknowing.
Clearing the clutter of programming is a forging…and exposing.

God gives situations that make you sit down…. you’re cracked open in a humbling upon the ground…tears form from a sacred fountain, everything right side up again from being turned upside down…everyone eventually comes down the mountain.

Awakening tests you to think…. beyond the mystery.
You’re asked to look…. beyond where you stop looking.
You’re dared to find compassion…. beneath stones that have never been moved.
Can you hold on to power while keeping heart or humility?…. fruits are revealed in tests of humanity.

Everyone fails.

That’s where beauty lives.

That’s where character is built.

That’s where choice points are revealed.

Seek if you dare, but you’ll be brought to your knees.
Not because you aren’t whole, but because it’s required to see.
To see with eyes removed from a prideful synapse.
To see with senses heightened from a state of collapse.

Mishaps are not about misery.
Mistakes aren’t about imperfection.
Emotions are signposts.
Questions move the quest along.
But limits remain along the periphery.

Questions without compassion are like forgetting the compass and going into the forest alone. The wolves wait for little red riding hood…. did she remember this time to bring a light, bring a weapon, bring a compass, bring a cyclone.

Blow away danger.
Blow kisses of love.
Blow life into living.
Blow thoughts to a dove.

Where is the love deep down in your heart?
Is it full or do you have an empty cart?
Has your heart shrunk or grown too big for your chest?
Do you think you’re better than all the rest?

Because everything you think you know, can change in an instant.
What once made you feel certain, can be removed like a thorn from a rose…poof…non-existent.

Always more more more….reaching for a door.
A servant or in service….thirsting for an empty pour.

Layers upon layers upon layers.
When the heart goes missing…
…you’ll try to make sense in order to control…to wield power over others…to kill feedback upon the outset of a grassy knoll….to stand above others to feel special...an attempt to find something whole…but, like water, you shall return to level.

Is it true or just a paradox’s attempt to subdue?
is it good or just a façade of wood?
Is it useful or merely museful?
is it filled with love or just words?

The most beautiful things in life are the things that force us to re-examine ourselves…the times we make sacrifice to help someone else…. the beauty that speaks when our hearts swell…. the life that comes from the Divine well.

Let us remember that point of contradiction…. the turning point that appears in a projection…

fear cast out, love cast in
Love cast outward from within, beauty blooms until the end

Are we willing to examine ALL of our beliefs, or only the ones that we’re ok losing what feels comfortable?

Just when you think you know…just when you thought you had it figured out…God laughs.

The cosmic comedy continues.

It’s a laugh-in, but all the clowns must go.

Remember….invite the heart into the questions….don’t just use the mind….for wisdom always dances…revelations include the sublime.

Curiosity can reveal….or kill….
But is it killing the ego or making it grow bigger…
Are you grounded in the natural…or waiting for tomorrow…

There is so much cruelty out there….don’t let it swallow your heart….keep holding on. (note to self)

Love is not just love, it’s not about feeling… it’s a responsibility, a call to action, an excavation for re-direction…an invitation to do better…to be better…and I am not exempt…I can do better…humanity can do better…all of us can. A softened heart can give tough love…it does not sit idly by and watch people self-destruct without speaking up. To ignite the heart is not to sit in a ooey gooey blob of what appeals to the mood on a given day, but to include it inside the hard things and uncomfortable places that lend a helping hand when we lose sight of the road.

And remember, your quest in life is only as good as your questions…and curiosity.

May your quest be one of big love…and stepping over every trap set along the way,

Angela

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I used to feel the pressure of deadlines nipping at my heals.

The competition of winning an award, only for it to sit on a console and collect dust.

I still have a natural inclination or tendency to need to finish things within a certain timeframe. I still like to challenge myself to compete with myself. Goals I set for myself give me a bowl to fill and empty, so that I don’t sit by idly wasting my gifts, or at least try not to. Even when I fail, I learn by trying, by doing.

The system we live in uses humanity to satiate itself.

When we submit to its expectations, we whittle away the true desires that invoke creative expression and natural ambition, the kind that is rooted, grounded and balanced towards something natural…. greed falls, good rises.

This is woven into the awakening process.

Every industry has its inversion and exploitation normalized in a sort of ritualistic pendulum between mass consumption and production…. only the way it is, is not the way it is.

Once you see the inversion, there’s a humbling, a sort of recognition of our own role, character, and/or mask made to fit in where we were never meant to. A title that often encompasses includes behaviors misaligned to our highest expression of being.

It’s both a dare and a dance.

You know what I’m talking about if you have ever worked any job of any kind…when it’s not “for you” there becomes a daily clocking in and clocking out metaphysically….each day stagnancy grows while buying time, biting your tongue and “just doing your job” eat at your neck…your jaw becomes permanently clenched…anger at the unfairness of this world seeps into bones….

Or the contradictory aspect where you enjoy what you do, yet feel burned out and ask yourself, just because I like it…just because I’m good at it…does this mean this is what I am meant to be doing? (At least, these are the questions I constantly ask myself)

How did we get here…inside a world where there is a unnatural cost to live and a currency that steals energy…. electrical charges create static cling and loopholes run the current…the Earth calls us to off-set and re-ground…. bare feet on soil re-ignites and re-enlivens the heart.

You want to run from it all but then find yourself in a sea of talking heads. Many coaches and gurus try to force you into a purpose that looks like flipside of the inversion but often is just a change of labels.

Influencers influence more exploitation but under the guise of a humanity helping offer…or if you need to feel more special, a “high ticket” offer.

Not that making a living is bad, it’s not, but so rarely do I hear anyone discuss the trust cost…conscience…usefulness…substance.

AI is turning everything into an easy button but the offer is empty, hollow instead of hallowed…there’s a siphon disguised as a funnel…the cost of “impressions” is often a solution pressured to fit people into another box.

Nothing changes but the costume.

Ultimately, it’s not about whether you work for someone or work for yourself.

That’s just surface chatter.

It’s about reclaiming motivation from the heart instead of the programming.

It’s a slow re-wiring through different choices and greater awareness of how one’s own morals, values, and principles show up in everyday life.

It’s a lot of failing and starting over…day by day.

It’s learning to become motivated in the way a bird is motivated to build a nest….to do what comes naturally…. not forced…not programmed…not expected, just innate.

This doesn’t happen overnight.

Transformation is a process.

It’s a stripping away more than an adding to.

Alchemy is a slow churn of agitation…. deconstruction lifts “weights”…not in the way of the gym but in the way of removing what felt heavy from the field. Spinning lead into gold is painful. Movement chips away the clutter, while stillness invites a remembrance of clarity.

We must remember that our choices behind closed doors in the private ripple out into the world, just as we do in public.

To try to separate our “why” is like disassociating just to exist.

I find it to be a difficult conundrum.

Give and take.

Take and give.

While holding center.

Standing in the square of sovereignty.

Certain, yet surrendered.

Individual, yet connected to others.

Humble, yet confident.

Motivated, yet allowing flow.

Ambitious, yet purposefully intentional.

Aligned, yet open to possibility.

Knowing, yet not knowing.

It is only when we can stand in the paradox of being that life makes any sense…. where sorrow and love co-exist, where co-creation is heartfelt…and motivation changes lanes.

Processes wane and wax.

The coffee waits for you to drink it.

The cup holds potential for the day.

The warmth invigorates the senses.

Attention comes and goes.

Awareness asks to be seen.

Ambition changes forms.

Life holds meaning again.

…until it doesn’t….

But we must be willing to start over.

…and over…

…and over…

For what once “worked” no longer fits.

More layers shed to get to the natural inclinations….to be lit up like when we’re kids…. about things that matter in the material realm…. because it’s all temporary….and that’s the paradox showing up again…

…What can be held forever is immaterial, but the experiential revels in tangibility.

What motivates us? Why? Where is that energy going? Are we driving down the same lane over and over…if so, is it worth it or is it time to put the blinker on?

We need both fire and water.

Fire brings passion, motivation toward action, will, conviction, principles to stand on, gumption, Heart, courage, tenacity.

Fire lifts up. It is solar.

Water gives way to motion, mystery, flow, intuition, depth, flexibility, imagination.

Water is level. It is lunar.

Together they form a signal, an equalization, a crossroads.

Both Purify. Both live inside of us.

If you’re like me, you get lost sometimes….lean too much in one direction….lose sight of the shore….but this is also part of the natural uncovering….cycles of waning and waxing live within us as we are part of the environment for which we share….the atmosphere we create around us in our homes is an extension of the atmosphere within us….the outer world of elemental forces are catalysts for change….sometimes hard and forceful…sometimes easy breezy.

I don’t know, really, I just play in pondering…potential roots there…focus mounts up…joy brings love…beauty waits for us to discover it…and create it….in the lane of motivation, meandering, and meaningfulness….because when we are driven by heart, everything looks different…every tasks feels different…every moment becomes auspicious…mundane turns to magic…and Monday’s become a chance for beginning…again.

Society is unwell…but we are not doomed to apathy. Embracing life fully, affirming all that is life giving, loving what holds the essence of creation while simultaneously recognizing it is fleeting means we can only control our own choices, our own responses, our own direction….and that is enough.

We can always change lanes…just make sure your heart is at the wheel.

With pizazz and restraint,

~ Angela

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They are such a joyful sight!

Birds heal…. the sight of them, the sounds of them, the interactions with them, the messages they seem to bring forth….birds are a healing mechanism from the creator that is free…nothing to log in to, no payment fees, no toolbox, no therapist couch…just beauty.

And then this Robin hung out with me for a while.

I held one in my hands recently, while helping them get unstuck from a barrier.

I love how they leave little blue eggs everywhere, I try so hard not to disturb them.

:) Sweet sounds…..amazing how loud their voices are in such tiny bodies.

A family of Blujays live outside my window…love them so much….

This Finch is the new guy in town….I don’t know if they are going to let him stay…they probably will.

And here is Leopold, one of my roosters, falling asleep in my lap, he’s a snuggler:

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I can’t make sense of it and I’m trying to stop trying to…that’s a terrible sentence, but I’m not changing it.

I re-visited an article that I posted a while back about having no purpose.

I still feel that way.

Motivation wanes.

The moon isn’t sensible.

We’re in a bubble world and no one has a needle.

I’m an introverted extrovert straddling a tight rope from a sunlit cave.

Each foot wants to go where the other one went…copy cats called dogs.

The northbound train holds paradox but tickets are sold out.

The moon rose tonight in the east, looking like the sunrise…a universal prank on night owls.

Can we make a town where everyone uses monacles and paper maps…a place where GPS doesn’t work and no one knows why?

Gosh, if things could only get weirder, that would be…. fill in the blank._________.

Symbolism runs the world but the world doesn’t run anywhere.

No one bought a ticket to the show, but everyone is at the theatre: either an actor, watcher, car park, or in the bathroom….no one is exempt.

Weariness wears silk and has static cling.

Socks becomes tiny beds for elves and fairies, are the squirrels jealous?

Birds never change songs, yet my ears do not tire of the repetitiveness…

Nature’s propaganda is lovely.

I cannot bear to hear the sound of ice clinking.

Is it intermission yet?

Where’s the cotton candy?

The production of earthly realm theatre is directed by a jester who got fired from clown school.

Animals are supposedly dumber than humans, but who pays more to live here?

Think about it.

Can yin and yang ever lose the border between?

“Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me.”
― William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

With fatigue, flora, fauna and mischief,

good eve,
Angela

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There’s a time and place for that sort of stuffing everything in and not wasting a moment, a morsel of doing, seeing, accomplishing, exploring, adventuring.

It feels good to cross things off, end one goal only to look forward to something else, or to gain a sense of clarity in lightening the weight of never-ending tasks that are a part of existing…the things that no matter how much you simplify life, are always there.

Nowadays, I seize the day differently…when possible.

Today, I grabbed a book and sat out in the sun….

The serenity of reading about beauty while surrounded by beauty is a different kind of “seizing…”

Out of one ear, I listened to the chatty red-winged blackbirds bustling around noisily, chomping on the bird feed as if it’s their last meal…

Out of the other ear, I listened to the nuthatch family scurrying up and down a river birch tucking seeds behind curled bark…. I tried to think of other sounds that are similar to the scraping they do with such peppy finesse, but nothing came to mind…

To the right of my chair, my dog nestles her nose around my knee and gives me puppy eyes…she’s showing her age as gray hairs have sprung up on her face like the hint of spring draws up green onions…anticipating a noggin scratch, she uses her tempting skills of persuasion and convinces me to let my hand fall from each page turn upon her furry nose for a little petting….her tail wags and as the hour passes she falls asleep…

To my left, a short distance away, the ducks quietly swish in the kiddy pool floating without care, fully present…. the chickens scratch around, sometimes they seem like nature’s version of busy workers in cubicles, nothing to do but look busy…. run down the hall sometimes….practice for an emergency…

In front of me, my cats are napping on the Catio…. too much bird watching wore them out and now they relax on risers as if they are royalty lounging on a pillowy velvet chaise hoping to be spoon fed tuna treats…

The temperature is 65 even thought it’s still winter…a sneak peek at spring and we’re all here for it…

Gratitude fills my heart and something beyond contentment wells up in my tear ducts…

All are gathered to sit, nap, flutter, peck, while I read…

I’m returning to simplicity and this seems like the best route to make sense of the complexities of the world to which no amount of knowing can actually improve anything…it must be lived…

For a moment there are no distractions, no scrolling, no going, only nature’s enhancements…no sorrow, only healing…no worry, only being…

Soothing background noise feeds my soul as much as the words I’m attempting to absorb into my eyes…my iris is an abyss of anticipation, not anxiousness, but gleeful curios of the next word….

For all we can do is the next best thing from now…

No time wasted.

Every moment is seized.

Some days are perfect.

Beauty is far more important than we acknowledge…

Savor these type of days and store them away in your forever memory bank.

Tomorrow might be filled up with things to do again…and that’s ok…life on land, too, flows like the waves of the ocean…the tide comes in….and out…storms rock the boat….and stillness returns.

Serenity,

Angela

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