It’s strange.
Lilies still in the wind.

An extraordinary wind at that.
Wind with a purpose so impertinent
It became love.

If you didn’t know any better,
You might name it something sweeter:
Abhorrence.

Your eyes sharp
And soft with desperation
Look at me for answers.

I’ve never seen anything quite like it
I marvel and speculate alongside you
We fall into a steady and cyclical dissonance
Are the lilies still anymore?

Yes, the sky is still blue. The grass,
Green.
It’s rather lovely.

I feel a tug. A pull.
With ease I lean into its plea
Spilling into silence,
I am gone.

You are here alone.
Delicately gilded, you are safe.

The lilies still in the wind.
Utterly strange.

Grounding  is like putting your self on a charger
Grounding is connecting back to nature
Grounding going back on line with the spirit world
You see
We are not all different from
Our electronics

To exist in the present moment
is to exist in contentment
to command no extremities of emotion
and take deep breaths calmly.

I felt content today.
Like I’ve walked along a bay
with fresh salty sea air and
the wind gently pattering my face.

I felt like I’ve stepped along a shore
leaving no trace
in the sand.

Like I’ve welcomed
the embrace of the wild wind.

And, like a child,
laughing and smiling
and tumbling in the crumbling sand
without a care in the world.

Except the present moment.

In the hum drum and the toil
In the itch of daily life
As we each till our own soil
Carefully avoiding each others' strife
We go to and fro enjoying
The comfort of monotony
And take pride in our employing
The right of autonomy

We take little heed of shadows
And the artwork they display
Or the fluffiness of clouds
As they drift along their way
We forget to thank our knees
As we bend to take a seat
Or admire the flowing streams
In the hardwood beneath our feet

It takes substantial effort
To see the inches in the miles
But there's something striking in them
That I think you'll find worthwhile
Take notice of the details
Don't be blind to little things
When life feels all too big
Just practice noticing

pre-extraction nerves
found a seat to ground myself
anxiety spiked

I’m navigating a field of dark something-ness
Sitting quiet in morning air

In these cavities where my soul perceives life, I seek a heightened energy

Laying hidden behind wrinkled skin
tucked tightly into two beds of compact tissue
in this moment they rest purposefully as if sitting behind window curtains

They serve a common purpose when prompted,
To identify objects in this limiting dimensional plane.

Some days when I come here, I wander aimlessly across battle-torn countries of thought
It is essential to let the river take them
Watching them pass as an observer instead of the instigator
Feeling the depth of their sting grow distant

Sinking deeply into the dimension where we live beyond bodies

Where I am a bee pollinating the flower
I am the bird calling out in a resounding plea
I am the wind pushing through bamboo forests

Until breath inhaling and collapsing my cadaver becomes less of a grounding cord
And the mat placed beneath with intention is no longer a chain to the ground

There is now no face to inhabit,
The world; a faint memory of molding

Here the wind isn’t quite invisible
Temperature is not affected by her power
Bearing colors, intentions and tranquility

I let her carry me up and away