My online journal sharing interests in photography, nature, coffee life, journaling, fountain pens, bicycling, spirituality and asking deep questions.
Every breath is a prayer
Steven Charleston
This is along Weld County Road 15 looking west. The mountains are in the far distance while the clouds give warning of the rain expected to arrive later in the night, which it did. Something positive happens to my spirit when I spend time in these sanctuaries. The chaos of the world does not leave but my internal chaos subsides. I change! And, so I set up my camera and take a few shots, then inhale and exhale breaths of prayer. Grateful!! Happy Monday!
“The soil under the grass is dreaming of a young forest, and under the pavement the soil is dreaming of grass.”
Wendell Berry
I am grateful for the natural areas and the city of Fort Collins for setting aside these areas. They protect nature from those who want to profit from them and destroy the dreams of the soil. Because it was a beautiful day of blue sky and sunshine, I spent some time at Reservoir Ridge Natural Area this afternoon and journaled. I thought about people who know nothing but the asphalt, concrete and noise of big cities. For them to be present to the silence of the sunrise above or to look out over a vast horizon, could be startling if not frightening to them. So, this evening I’m aware of how lucky, blessed, and grateful I am to have these sanctuaries to experience. I will end with words written in my journal today: No asphalt here…
As I took this image last week I wondered how many sunrises I’ve had over the decades of my life. Mathematically that number is over 27,000 opportunities. I say opportunities because I’ve missed more of these gifts than I’ve witnessed. Maybe I would have seen more if I could lay in my bed, under warm covers, and look out over this view but… The truth is there is no need to think about how many I missed or how many I have left. Because I would rather wake before dawn and make my way to some sanctuary to greet each new day whenever I can rather than count them. The numbers are irrelevant. The remaining days of this one life I have are a gift and within those remaining days are more sunrises. I’ll catch the ones I can.
The God of creation goes on creating us.
Joan Chittister
I awoke early this morning, way too early. Unable to go back to sleep I made a pour over then headed to Pineridge Natural Area. I would spend the next hour and a half in this sacred place while the city still sleeps. A couple of baby cottontails dashed across the road when I pulled into the parking area. After parking the car I could see the silhouette of bats darting in the dim light feasting on insects. A croaking frog belted out from the shallows of the reservoir. The meadowlarks now share their songs of joy. I had maybe an hour before sunrise so I moved to the north end of Dixon Reservoir because nature was gathering a few clouds in the northern sky. After taking a few predawn images I moved to a spot along Dixon Canyon Road and set up my camera looking out over the reservoir where I wanted to watch and photograph the sunrise. As I left this sanctuary an hour later the clouds had filled the sky and the beauty of the new day’s sunrise was more than I expected. This is one of the predawn images and I will post one of the sunrise images later. Next I had a wonderful conversation with Dan and an Old Town mocha latte at Mugs coffee shop. It has been a lovely morning but I do believe there will be a power nap later today. May you have a fabulous day!
A man who works with his hands is a labourer. A man who works with his hands and his head is a craftsman. A man who works with his hands, his head, and his heart is an artist.
Francis Of Assisi
While scraping the car’s windshield in the dark this morning I could hear the geese on the pond announcing to the world the approaching new day. I was well aware of their secret, which is why I crawled out from warm covers and made my way to Pineridge Natural Area. I regularly make my way to this sanctuary in nature, needing to experience these sacred moments. I am filled with gratitude for the dawn of this new day, its promises, and the mysteries of what it holds. Now time for a cortado. May you also enjoy the unfolding of this day!
My day begins in the sanctuary of my home.
ms
with the quiet of prayer and meditation.
Then I make my way to the sanctuary
of a local natural area.
My feathered sisters and brothers greet me as the goldfinches,
house finches, chickadees, meadowlarks, magpies,
robins, swallows all sing songs of joy this morning.
I watch their amazing aerial antics as they snatch insects in midair
or playfully chase one another from branch to branch.
My eyes catch that patient fisherman, the Great Blue Heron,
who silently wades in the shallow waters of Dixon Reservoir.
A pair of mallards cruise the waters of the reservoir
sending their delicate wavelets to shore.
A noisey crow pesters a red-tail hawk, both adrift in the baby blue sky.
Two bashful cottontails step from their hiding place
to nibble on blades of grass.
My soul now filled with nature’s delights
and the mind cleared of intrusive thoughts,
I make my way to one of my coffee shop sanctuaries.
Two young squirrels pause their wrestling
to keep a watchful eye on me as I enter this sanctuary
then scamper up a tree.
Now sitting in a favorite chair enjoying my mocha latte,
crafted with love by Emma.
I now put pen to paper in my journal
taking note of the ordinary gifts
given in my morning sanctuaries.
A morning of blank pages, empty and barren
ms
my mind wandering while I sit before them, staring.
Aware I refuse to face them, even turning away,
finding something else to do, even daydreaming.
I ask for a willingness to listen for inspiration,
alert to the inner voice seen through pen and ink.
Transformative words are not always found in books
but through whispers heard from a sanctuary within.