Wordless Thursday?

Getting sick tends to put a crinkle in so many best-laid plans.  So, a day late, but still one of the most glorious blessings of the season here in the way, way Pacific Northwest. 

More tulips grown around here than any place outside of Holland. Yup. True.  And if there's a better way to spend two bucks, I invite you to share it here!

For more photographic inspiration, join the hop for Wordless Wednesday at the Create with Joy "Wordless Wednesday" blog hop.

MFB,
L

The Gods Are Not Large

But perhaps
the heart
does not want
to be understood.
Your shadow
falls on its pond
and the small fish
hurry away.
They have
their own lives
which they love.

And if to you
it is anger,
bewilderment,
grief,
to them
it is simply life:
their mouths
open and close,
their gills,
they are fed,
they breathe.

The gods
are not large
outside us.
They are the fish
going on
with their own
concerns.

         - Jane Hirschfield

Thank you, Ms. Hirschfield, for so consistently creating poems that feel easy yet resonate more with each reading.  Zen you is, Ms. 

For more about Jane Hirschfield, try The Poetry Foundation's page (scroll to the bottom for three more poems).  For more of her words, images, and ideas, try poets.org's Hirschfield page.

And for a lovely, brief interview with another marvelous poem at the end, try this:




MFB this fair weekend,
L

Wordless Wednesday: How to spend a rainy day

Claudia Jean demonstrates.

Sometimes bliss is not far away.  It's a sweet little dog completely at ease.

MFB on Wordless Wednesday,
L

For more shots of everyday bliss, visit the Create with Joy "Wordless Wednesday" blog hop.

When in doubt about where you are meant to be,

look down at your feet.

So much consolation in realizing that we are always capable of filling the present moment with the whole of our being, with all our gifts offered and all blessings received openly.

MFB, right here, right now,
L

Ants Redux

OK, so these are leaf-cutter ants, not the odorous house
ants I was battling, but you get the picture.

Update: They left.


But they'll be back.

And the non-harming remedies didn't work.  Not a one of them.  At least not on this crew.

Cinnamon sticks at their entry point?  They just went around.

Cinnamon sprinkled on their trails?  Confused them for all of thirty seconds and might possibly have tickled their toes, but then they just marched right through it.

Cayenne, then chili powder, then black pepper sprinkled on their trails?  Ditto.

I did find their entryway and tried to soap it closed, but that didn't help much.  The ants simply found another little crack in the floor/wall joint right nearby.  I'd have to soap the entire wall, in a closet no less, and that just didn't seem reasonable.  Perhaps that was my own fail though: A bit more time and effort with the soap, or warming up some wax and dripping it into the length of the closet floor, might have forced them to find a different entryway and bought me at least a few days sans the little critters.

Instead, as their numbers amassed and their trails got longer and longer on the kitchen counter, I caved and put out one of those Terro type ant baits right next to their entryway.  A few hours later: no more ants.

So then, does anyone out there know of a better way to discourage ants that doesn't require killing some of them?

I know about all the preventative measures and we've continued to practice impeccable kitchen-cleaning now that it's ant season in the Pacific Northwest, but every year they seem to come back through some new entryway every month....

MFB, with a lot more ground to gain,
L

Wordless Wednesday: Finally, Spring.

This week.  The methley plum trees in our backyard full-blown with blossom.

For more fun with photos, join the Create with Joy "Wordless Wednesday" blog hop.

And welcome to this brand new blog about living (imperfectly) mindfully in the beautiful Pacific Northwest.

MFB,

L

Conflicted Bliss

Today I worked out.

It was in a fitness class that I haven't attended for a full year:  Bodyflow at my local Gold's gym.  My teacher's a supportive and skillful leader, and one couldn't ask for a better trainer in even the most competitive of big city gyms.  I admire and enjoy her personality and I trust her expertise absolutely.  In Bodyflow class I know I will push myself, albeit in a seemingly gentle way (not really!), and that I will emerge stronger and stretchier after each session.  Not only that, but I'll be privileged to connect with men and women from a wide variety of backgrounds and circumstances in our class.  I loved this class all last year, but when I went back to work this year, I had to give it up.  This week I'm on spring break, so I can pounce on the opportunity to shift my balance from the uber-cerebral toward the body-aware.

I'm not rich - oh, by no means: I'm a part-time public school teacher - and yet I invest every month in an expensive gym membership.  One I - as most of us - don't use as often as I should.  How suburban is that? 

It's a great gym, unlike any I've attended in the past.   Polite and pleasant members, incredibly friendly and personable staff, clean and up-to-date facilities, and zero "look at me: I'm so fit" factor. 

Yet I feel embarrassed to be spending my money on a gym membership when I have so little of it in the first place. 

So, suburban zen apprentices, I have to ask you: Why?  Why do I feel guilty for participating in something so healthy, so community-oriented, so absolutely positive in my life?

And I have to ask you to ask yourselves:  What absolutely positive investments have you made that you feel - perversely - conflicted about? 

Let's confront our stupid conflicts here and now. 

So we can MFB,
L