Category Archives: acts of grace

The Age of Unreason

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Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

It is called The Wolf Moon. The first full moon of January.

I almost missed it.

Not the moon, but my favourite ‘under the light of the full moon’ thing to do – stand amongst the trees, throw back my head, lift up my chin towards the sky and howl.

Wrapped up in thoughts of my beloved’s slow (to me) recovery from pneumonia that landed him in hospital for the first 10 days of the year, my daughter, son-in-love, and grandchildren’s bout with Covid and a project deadline looming at work, thoughts of howling were far from my mind on Tuesday morning.

And then, as Beaumont the Sheepadoodle and I walked in the woods along the river in the icy-cold, frost-riddled morning of the day after the Wolf Moon rising, I saw it. There it hung, high above, a giant punched-out pale orb of eery white and beige and creamy light yellow in the pale blue sky.

Oblivious to its presence above, Beau sniffed and snuffled his way through snow-laden deadfall and dry winter grasses, following the scent of some unseen forest creature.

I stood in the early morning light, closed my eyes and breathed in the magic of it all.

The moon watched. I breathed.

Howl, a voice within whispered.

Another voice parried back, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, seriously. Howl!”

“No way. People will think I’m weird.”

“Louise, there’s no one here. The park is empty. Howl.”

I really wanted to. Howl that is. But that self-conscious, I don’t want o stand out or make a fool of myself can be a strong advocate for taking the road most travelled sometimes. Especially it seems if the road less travelled includes howling at the moon. “You’re beyond the age of howling,” it hissed. “Beyond the age of reason for that matter!”

I wanted to shout back, “That’s because I’ve entered the age of unreason!”

I remain silent. What if someone hears me?

I walked a bit further. The moon followed me.

The cacophony of voices arguing the pros and cons of howling were becoming more than just an irritant. They were a clamouring, writhing claimant of my morning zen in the woods walk.

What would a woman in the age of unreason do? The voice of spirit asked.

I smiled. I stopped walking, glanced up at the moon, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and let out a tiny, wee, quiet howl.

I opened my eyes, the world looked the same. Beau was still sniffling and snuffling in the woods. The trees were still standing in silent witness, birds sung in the trees, the river flowed on and the moon hung still in the pale blue sky above.

And the park was still empty of other humans.

I took another breath. Deeper this time. Fuller.

I leaned my head back, stretched out my neck, jutted out my chin, opened my mouth and howled.

Aywhooooooo! Aywhooooo! Awhyoooooooooooooo!

And then I laughed.

Deep, loud, belly shaking laughs.

I did it again.

Aywhooooooo! Aywhooooo! Awhyoooooooooooooo!

I looked around. Beaumont, raised his head from sniffing a particularly fascinating piece of deadfall, cocked it sideways, looked at me for a moment, lowered it again and went back to his investigations.

And the trees kept standing, the river flowed on, the birds sang and the moon gazed down from above.

And I laughed again, threw my arms out wide and began to dance in the icy-cold, frost-riddled morning of the day after the Wolf Moon rising,

Because deep within me, I want to live the truth of my affirmation to live bravely. Dare Boldly. And howling and dancing beneath a Wolf Moon on a crisp winter morning is exactly what a woman in the Age of Unreason does.

___________________

And then…. just as I sign off on this post, a song begins to play in the background. Normally, my morning writing music is without lyrics. For some, unknown, magical reason, one song with words has slipped into my playlist just as I’m about to press publish on this post.

How divine!

This post is also in response to Eugi at Eugi’s Causerie where the prompt this week is “Affirmations”.

Do go visit – there’s lots of good reading theree and who knows… you might be inspired to respond too with your written gems!

All That Remains…

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Yesterday on FB, a friend shared a poem I wrote at the end of 2020.

I am always grateful when people share my words. I feel a big burst of joy and gratitude erupt within me. It fills my writer’s heart.

I am also glad when the sharing reminds me of what’s most important, of what matters, and what is possible.

The poem she shared was written in one of Ali Grimshaw’s writing circles, a space I regularly and gratefully share with five other women.

I am sharing it again today because while at the time, I hoped Covid would be gone last year, it still lingers. Over the past few days my eldest daughter, her husband and my grandchildren all came down with it. Several friends have succumbed to its thrall as has one of my husband’s business partners.

We continue to hold our circle tight. Limiting contact. Limiting exposure.

And still, the sun shines. The birds sing. The riveer flows, albeit through a narrow channel surrounded by ice. The trees stand sentinel, naked branches spread out as if reaching to touch the sky.

And life continues to flow full of adventures and opportunities, possibilities and new imaginings.

And through it all, this nasty little virus continues to cause illness and death, sorrow and grief.

And through it all, life continues to flow, full of births and deaths, offerings and takings, beginnings and endings.

And through it all, Love continues to call us home to where we belong.

to read the original post from December 31, 2020, click HERE.

Thank you Shannon for the reminder and the gift of your sharing.

Dare To Be a Vessel of Love

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She Dares to be a vessel of Love. Always.

It’s not the choosing to be a vessel of Love that’s hard. It’s the ‘always’.

We’re human. And that makes us unpredictable, at times undependable and suspect to cloudy thinking and poor decision-making.

Like, when someone cuts you off or doesn’t allow you to merge, or worse yet, takes their own sweet time merging when you’re behind them and want to get going… Thoughts of being a vessel of love, of moving with grace through every moment, can evaporate in direct opposite proportion to the offending party’s speed, or lack thereof.

In fact, I’m often surprised how quickly I can fall into criticizing, complaining and condemning other drivers!

Or people who don’t clean up after their dog.

Or people who wear their masks below their nose.

Or people who stand too close in line.

Or…

You get the picture…

Perhaps if I lived in a cave, cut-off from all human contact… But I don’t. Which means, being a vessel of love has to include forgiving myself. A lot.

To balance the scales, in that forgiveness I must also remember to forgive the other, bless them. And me.

It goes like this…

Someone doesn’t let me merge, my mind immediately jumps to… “What a jerk!” (or worse).

My heart kicks into high gear and whispers gently and lovingly… “Bless them. Forgive me. Forgive them. Bless me.”

And I move on.

The speed at which this internal dialogue goes on is always dependent upon how balanced, centred and embodied in the present moment I am.

Sometimes, there’s a lag between my stinkin’ thinkin’ and the awareness that I’m not being a vessel of love.

Sometimes, my heart needs to prod my head a little to wake me up to my off-kilter presence.

As in, “Now that’s an interesting response to an irritant but not a criminal offense Louise. Something on your mind? Are you dancing with anger right now? Will this attitude get you more or less of what you want?”

Fact is, when I am moving through the world casting criticism, complaints and condemnation about like confetti, I am being my own worst problem and an irritant in the world.

Which is why forgiveness is so important. It awakens me to grace by moving me gently through the portal of acceptance into gratitude.

And, while I don’t often say, “Thank you for this reminder to wake up and be present”, the fact is, every time I act out, is an opportunity to come home to my heart in gratitude and Love.

The good thing is, each time I act out and forgive and bless myself and others, the distance between my acting out and staying true to myself gets shorter, And, with each time I act out and forgive and bless, I am strengthening my heart muscles and deepening my capacity to be a vessel of Love. Always.

Namaste

Avoidance Strengthens Fear

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She dares to fight hatred with love. (collage on mixed media)

I don’t know if it was hearing from my beloved that he could possibly be home from hospital today but if not, for sure Tuesday, or, if it’s I finally decided to stop avoiding my studio and dive into creative presence, but this morning I awoke, mentally alert, my list of ‘To Do’s running through my mind and ‘the how’ of how I was going to get at ’em in full swing.

Either way, I feel like what I imagine a bear does after a long winter hibernation – awake and eager to get living again!

Like, the world is not weighing on my shoulders but moving with me, holding me tenderly in its flow, or as my friend John M. calls it, PLOW (Power. Harmony. Love. Order. Wisdom.).

The fact is, it took a lot of mind talk, or rather quieting of some disturbing mind-chatter to get me into my studio yesterday.

The “I’m too tired. What’s the point? I don’t feel like it. I think the muse went to Mexico and deserted me to this Arctic Vortex as penance for some unknown sins,” dialogue was getting tiring!

Finally yesterday, I remembered ‘avoidance strengthens fear’ and realized I was avoiding what I know calms me, centers me and brings me peace, not because it was the right thing to do but rather, because I was walking with that ole’ soundrel, FEAR and letting him hold court over my doing the things I know are good and healing for me.

Once I acknowledged that my fear had nothing to do with creating and everything to do with my husband’s being in hospital with pneumonia and me giving into a weird internalized message that ‘if he is suffering I should too’, which is some relic of a childhood Catholicism steeped in guilt or perhaps the media or maybe the fact I gave up sugar on December 26th and was not yet off its artificial high. Regardless of why I wasn’t spending time in my studio when my world felt so shaky and unsafe, the ‘not doing’ was unhealthy for me. And, as C.C. is coming home for sure by tomorrow, maybe even today, I definitely need to be my most healthy self!

So, I threw out my avoidance, which immediately weakened my fear and I began to create.

What a gift.

To simply be present with the muse (she didn’t really go to Mexico and desert me — though I’m sure if you’re in Mexico and open to her exhortations to create you’ll find her there too!).

In being present I felt the cobwebs of doubt and worry and the tendrils of my “What if” fears dissipate and fade as I threw colour and texture and shapes and forms onto the canvas and danced.

And I mean… danced.

Like really danced.

I spun and twirled and swayed and twisted and leaped and let the music guide my body as I gave up my resistance and fell, with joyful abandon, into the art of being alive.

Such a gift.

And today, C.C. might be home and if not, the Dr. has said for sure tomorrow!

Yup! Colour me excited! What a gift.

And P.S. — writing it all out over the past few days has helped keep me grounded, as have all your beautiful words of support and wisdom. And while intellectually I know I’m not alone, your presence helped my heart remember, I’m not.

I am so very grateful.

Sometimes, a good cry is the best medicine.

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When C.C. calls to tell me I can’t come visit him, I cry.

I don’t know if these are tears of disappointment or relief. Maybe both.

My fear of taking Covid to him every time I walk through the hospital doors struggles against my desire to be there with him.

I think fear is clouding my thoughts, my vision, my being present.

I let the tears fall.

Sometimes, a good cry is the best medicine.

Unfortunately, the fact his ward is in lockdown because Covid is present doesn’t do much for my fear. But, when a nurse calls later to tell me about the lockdown and I thank her and tell her how grateful I am for their care of my beloved and how sorry I am they have to also endure Covid on the ward, she replies. “It’s okay. It’s happened before. We have good protocols.”

I tell her I wish there was something I could do and she replies, “Your understanding is all we need. We really appreciate people not getting angry about the lockdown.”

And I wonder, in the face of all the other things they’ve had to experience and endure these last two years, how often do they also have to deal with people’s anger?

Probably too often.

Which is when I realized how important it is to deal with my own stuff… BEFORE I deal with other people.

Dumping my angst, my anger, my frustrations, anything that makes someone else’s journey harder, on them doesn’t create ‘the more’ of what I want to create in the world — harmony, joy, peace, unity, community. Love.

And so, I let the tears wash away my angst and go back to chanting my mantra, “I walk in beauty now. Beauty lies before me. Beauty lies above me, below and behind me.”

C.C. is improving, though he had a setback yesterday in his oxygen levels, we’re hoping today they are righted and he is still on track to make his way home, to me (and Beaumont the Sheepadoodle)… to safety… to love… today.

And I smile when I see the word ‘safety’. While he is ‘safe’ there I know at home, now that his pneumonia is under control he will not only get well faster, he will most definitely be safer from this microbe that insists on appearing in all the wrong places.

Much gratitude for this morning, this day, the river that still flows in the spaces where ice is not covering its surface. The lights upon the bridge that cast brilliant ripples on the river’s flow and the warmth of our home wrapping me up in a welcoming blanket of safety and joy.

Namaste. It’s a good day to be alive.

She Dares To Transform Pain Into Beauty.

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Yesterday. The day before. And before that…

so much.

to reflect upon.

remember.

savour.

And through it all, woven threads of gold spun with sapphires and emeralds and precious moments and words and thoughts glittering like diamonds in a field of love.

It is the last day of this year, a year rich with memory and joy and sadness and hardship and possibility and new adventures and missing friends and treasured rare encounters.

A year like no other. But then, every year is a year like no other for every year is filled with days sparkling with opportunities to experience, lessons to learn and happenings to grow through.

As this day (and year) draws to a close and C.C. and I, having forgone the small gathering we had planned with two other couples, await our meal to arrive at the front door, I reflect upon all that has happened, all I have learned, done and left undone or not even started. I smile at all I have gathered, created, discarded and accumulated. And, I am reminded of how this year has been a year like no other, and yet a year none-the-less to experience and learn from and breathe through as I stumbled, surmounted, succumbed and succeeded beyond my wildest imaginings.

So much of this year feels like a blur, like I was sleep-walking through its days, going through motions but not really connecting to the essence of all it offered. And still, there are moments of pure bliss, of complete surrender, of divine grace shimmering within each breath I took as I lived each moment fully embodied in the mystical, unfathomable mystery of life.

I am so many things and within this moment right now, I am grateful, humbled, and surprised by how full my heart feels, how deep my sense of awe becomes me and how truly blessed I am in this life for which I hold deep and abiding gratitude.

I spent the day in the studio today. Inspired by a conversation with a friend, an email from another, an encounter at the dog park, the wide-open clear blue sky, the fresh (ok, arctic cold) air, the frost embracing the trees, the river finding new paths through the rapidly forming ice and Beaumont the Sheepadoodle trying to shed his new booties (he was unsuccessful!) and the advent of a new year, I wrote a poem and then spent a day in my studio creating to the poem which I wrote in gold lettering as part of the background of my latest creation.

Luminous Light
by Louise Gallagher

Luminous light
aches 
for the passage of time
to lean out
beyond the darkness
holding our hopes
in tender hands
like a nest gently
sheltering
a babe
preparing to fly
into a new year
full of promise
that the old one has passed
away
holding nothing
but imaginings
of a future
full of mystery, wonder and awe.

I wish for you, as they say in Germany, a “Guten Rutsch ins Neue Yahr.”

May the slip from the old to the new be a gentle reminder to live each moment with all your heart and to open yourself up with wild abandon to all the beauty, mystery, and awe the world has to offer.

And, as my creation today extolls, may you always dare boldly to transform life’s hardships into a world of beauty.

Happy New Year!

Grace. Gratitude. Joy.

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In September, I took a 20 hour a week contract with a not-for-profit. I was excited. Nervous. Inspired. To be able to give back, to share in the NFPs vision of inclusive workplaces employing a diverse workforce felt right. Good. Challenging.

After two years of ‘retirement’ that felt a little derailed under Covid’s presence, I was feeling somewhat adrift. It wasn’t that I didn’t recognize that every time I wrote here or created in my studio, I was living on purpose. It was more that after almost 2 decades of feeling on-purpose everyday knowing that the work I was doing changed lives, I felt a bit disconnected from my purpose to “touch hearts, open minds and set spirits free.”

Supporting a not-for-profit in advocacy and government relations seemed like purposeful work.

And it is.

Though, I must admit, I hadn’t accounted for the challenges of onboarding and getting to know an organization through socially distanced practices.

My hat’s off to any employee who has waded into a new organization during these times, and the employers who have successfully onboarded new staff. It ain’t easy!

But, like anything, if you let go of expectations and stay open to possibilities, it’s achievable.

Which means, I’m learning and growing and adapting and shifting my expectations to embrace this new reality.

I am also adjusting my daily routines and slipping back into my old habit of rising early.

I have always been an early riser. Even as a teenager. Early mornings are my sweet spot. Over the last two years however, my normal 5:30 rise and shine has drifted into a 7:30 yawn and stretch as I slip into an easy awakening.

It’s been an adjustment.

In encountering this new reality, I am remembering my love of early rising and its many benefits. Something I seemed to have forgotten as I slid through each day without having to reference my daily agenda. It was easy over the past two years to keep track of my calendar. There were few appointments or meetings to remember.

Now, my calendar is getting peppered with Zoom meetings and tasks to be completed.

It’s kind of nice.

I like the busy. I like the structure.

And that’s what I’m discovering to be most true for me.

I feel more grounded and centered within a structure.

Free-spirited I may be but what allows me the most breadth to spread my wings with ease, is knowing the purpose and direction of my flight.

I don’t need to know the destination.

I just like feeling that my wings are wide-spread with purpose.

I’ve gone back to work, albeit not 5 days a work-week, it is enough to remind me though, of the joy that comes with giving back, with living on purpose and feeling challenged.

I’m adapting. Making adjustments and embracing this change.

There are some things however, that cannot, will not, must not change for me — and one of those is ensuring I protect and preserve my sacred space for creative expression.

I’ve been letting it go in the past couple of weeks. Telling myself my head is so full of learning new things, I’m too tired to take my body down to the studio.

Ahhh…. that critter mind loves to slip in when new horizons open up. He gets scared by wide open spaces and wants to pull me back to safety. Except… his idea of safety leaves me vulnerable to confusion and doubt.

And I smile. Head and body are one. Not two separate entities with the one ruled by the other. For my mind to be calm and peaceful, I must respect the wholeness of all I am and breathe into my entire being, connecting deeply to the flow of all life in and around me.

In that grace-filled space of unity, mind chatter drifts away as effortlessly as clouds on a blue-sky summer day as I fall with grace into gratitude and joy.

And look! It’s not yet 8 am and I’ve just finished my blog – something I’ve been less present with over the past few months.

Because here’s the thing. Writing here every morning sets my day up with grace, gratitude and joy.

And who doesn’t like a day that begins with feeling full of grace, gratitude and joy?

Namaste

The Cabinet Liberators

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It’s not ‘beautiful’ but it is useful!

For 3+ years, our old kitchen cabinets sat in the basement, gathering dust, taking up space.

Last week, I finally got around to removing all the stuff I’d piled inside them and moving them out into the middle of the floor so I could take photos and C.C. could put them on a social media market site.

Fifteen solid walnut kitchen cabinets. For Free.

The only caveat was, they had to take ALL of them.

And they needed to be able to carry them up from the basement and out the front door.

The first couple who arrived drove up in a big SUV trailing a small trailer. I was curious how a man and woman in their 60s, him with bad knees, her with a bad back (they told me) were going to navigate the physical labour part of the deal.

In the end, they chose not to.

The second cabinet liberators were two very fit, younger men undaunted by the prospect of carrying the cabinets up the stairs and out the door.

They filled their trailer with the first 6 cabinets and said, “We’ll have to come back for the rest.”

And they did.

Except, as they finished carrying up the 10th cabinet one of the men told me they needed to go pick up lumber and would be back. Tomorrow.

I needed to believe him so I smiled and said, “Great! See you in the morning.”

They never returned.

At first, I was ticked. I mean seriously? The deal was ALL the cabinets, not just 10 of them.

C.C. put the five remaining back up on the market site, but they were a disparate lot. There were no takers.

Finally, seeking to find value in all things, (and having no desire to rent a truck and haul them to the landfill to create more waste) I decided to make use of the remaining five.

And that’s when the true gift of The Cabinet Liberators deception became my reality.

After three days of sorting, moving, clearing out and shovelling out things that have been cluttering up the basement, I have a fabulous (albeit not beautiful) new work space where I can keep things like my big paper cutter, my Cricut, Big Shot and other paraphernalia I use occasionally. (but would probably use more often if they were more easily accessible). I also have wall space to hang some old paintings!

And here’s the thing, the man who said he was coming back for the rest of the cabinets and didn’t… I have a feeling he is carrying the guilt of lying. I could see it in his face when he told me they would be back the next day. His eyes looked down. He was flushed and gave me a nervous smile.

So… just in case he is feeling guilty, I forgive him and his partner ‘in crime’.

Ultimately, they did me a favour. Had they taken all 15, I’d be trying to figure out what to do with all the paraphernalia that needed a home.

Yes. It would have been nicer if he’d just told me the truth. But his deception only created a momentary pang of annoyance before I got to work making it work for me.

So… I set my pangs of annoyance free and embrace the feeling of gratitude and relief that comes with finding a solution that is a win/win for everyone involved.

And I say, Thank you Cabinet Liberators. May the cabinets you took be of great value to you. May they fill your home or whatever space you’re using them for, with a sense of joy in their usefulness. And, may you know peace.

And if he’s not carrying the guilt I suspect, that’s okay too. A little gratitude and forgiveness goes a long way to easing any burden I might be carrying!

Namaste.

You’re Not Welcome… Yet.

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Does a tree say to leaves turning golden in July, “Stop! Go back to green! It’s not time to change seasons yet! It’s not time to bring out your autumn wardrobe of many colours.”

Or does it embrace nature’s ways with grace and ease? Accepting that all things happen in their own time. All things unfold as they are meant to unfold. Because, the trees know, they are not separate from nature. They are one with all of life on earth.

There are glimmers of gold in the trees this morning. Buffalo berries glow bright red in the bushes outside my window. And the sun glows red in a smoke clouded sky.

We are in the height of summer here on the leeward side of the Rocky Mountains. The forests are lush and green. The yet to turn golden green fronds of prairie grasses dance in the wind as if pulled by a puppeteer’s unseen hands.

And I want to yell at the leaves that continue to fade from green to golden, “Go back. Go back. You’re not welcome here… Yet.”

And I know my exhortations to retreat will be unheeded.

It is nature’s way.

To change. To flow. To be impervious to my demands as it struggles to meet the demands of a world where the very beings that make life on earth possible, the trees and rivers and oceans and air, are being continuously bombarded with our insensitive human ways.

Perhaps that is why the most recent spate of wildfires and floods and other natural disasters have felt so daunting. So incomprehensible. So sad.

Nature is responding in the only way it knows how to our continued demands it accept our garbage, our toxic waste, our extravagant assertions it act like a sponge to all we thoughtlessly deposit into the air and rivers and oceans and fields and forests and valley bottoms. It has reached the zenith of all it can contain. It is breaking open, breaking down and we, the humans of this world, are responsible.

This is not a battle of wills, of ‘little man’ with just a slingshot looking to topple the behemoth of nature. Nature is our partner. We are one with it, part of all of it as it is part of all of us. And we are in a fight for our lives. Should we remain impervious to nature’s need for us to change our ways, no one, not nature, not humans, not sentient nor non-sentient beings who are all our co-inhabitants of this planet which gives us life will survive.

I spied a patch of golden leaves this morning. I want to tell them to turn back to green but cannot stop nature’s way.

I can stop getting in the way of nature’s calls for help. I can stop demanding nature keep giving me life and start honouring the life it gives me and the symbiotic nature of our relationship. And to do that, I must do more with less, create better with everything, and give to the earth and all its beings both the less and the best of me.

I can stop hoping someone else ‘fix it’ and start fixing what I have contributed to breaking.

Autumn leaves turning golden in July beneath a smoke laden sky reminded me this morning of my continued need to lessen my footprint, pay attention to each step I take upon this planet.

Autumn leaves are turning. And though it feels too soon, it is not too soon for us to change our ways. We’re already late.

Photosynthesis

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The view from where I sit

This is a land of trees. Trees that march across valley bottoms, up rolling hills to merge, somewhere far off in the distance, with the horizon falling down towards earth.

“It’s easy to see how someone could get lost in the woods here,” I mention to my beloved as we drive east, across the TransCanada Highway that has only been a link from east to west and west to east since 1965.

The trees sprawl out in every direction stopping only at the shores of the mighty Lake Superior whose northern edge we traverse in our eastward drive.

Thirty-four hours and over 3500 kilometers later, we reach Georgian Bay glittering like a pale sapphire under the hot July sun. We spend two delightful days visiting with C.C.’s oldest brother and his wife and then move further east, through Algonquin Park to Barry’s Bay.

We are here now at the shore of Kamaniskeg Lake where we will visit with our dear friends U and A for the next week before flying home.

And I feel it all.

Permeating my skin.

Sinking deep into my bones.

Infusing my senses with its beauty.

The silence.

The quiet of the lake.

The birds twittering in the trees.

The stillness.

Soft. Sensuous. Sibilance.

There is no breeze caressing the leaves, stirring them into story-telling.

No tell-tale gusts of wind rippling the water’s surface.

There is only green. Miles and miles of green caressing the deep blue waters of the lake which the trees surround like lovers merging their bodies into one as they lay entwined on a bed of leaves beneath a hot summer sun.

And in the presence of the silence, in the depth of this stillness and the narrowing of the distance between my body and nature, I find myself breathing. Deep.

I am here. Present. Embodied in the stillness of it all.

Photosynthesis
by Louise Gallagher


The quiet enduring embrace
of nature
fills
   my spirit
calming
   my city-riddled nerves
easing
   my busy-minded thoughts
into the silence
  immersing me 
    like the trees
     conspiring  
with the sun
to transform carbon dioxide 
into life
   giving 
     birth
      to life
again and again.

In the presence of trees
silently standing sentinel
to nature’s ways
    I find 
      myself
         falling
with grace
   sliding softly
into nature’s 
    quiet 
       enduring
          embrace
again and again.