Posted in Air, Autumn, Change, Critters, Cycling, Earth, Eastern Shore, Exploring, Fire, Mindfulness, Nature, Photography, Portals & Pathways, Spirit, Wonder, Woods


Let's go for a bike ride
Let’s go for a bike ride

With patience, you are relaxed and centered; you have energy and attention that you can readily draw on; and you can proceed with the assurance that things are in their rightful place, even though you may not necessarily like them.  Patience is absolutely essential if you wish to keep treading the spiritual path. . . Patience will keep you centered, surrendered, detached, and content to just continue with the assurance that, “Yes, everything in its good time.”

~ Michael Goddart

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Posted in Air, Autumn, Bench Writing, Earth, Eastern Shore, Fire, Mindfulness, Nature, Photography, Quotes, Spirit, Walking & Wandering, Water, Wonder, Woods


A seat on the dock
A seat on the dock

We can speak without voice to the trees and the clouds and the waves of the sea.  Without words they respond through the rustling of leaves and the moving of clouds and the murmuring of the sea.

~ Paul Tillich

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Posted in Autumn, Dreams, Earth, Eastern Shore, Fire, Meditation, Mindfulness, Photography, Quotes, Spirit, Water, Wonder

Washed away

Riding the current
Stars riding the current

It is a release, like a dip in a healing, cool, fresh river.  Now I am washed away in the river; after so much fussing, I am torn away and alone in the current.  But I can swim, or rather, float.  The self I held, I left with my towel on the shore, but I’m still alive; I haven’t drowned or died.  Pieces of what I imagined I had to grip to me come floating along beside me.  The current of the world is unraveling in faces and forms.  Without my will the universe unrolls, and fills my arms with muscles, my heart with human concerns.  The scintillating milky way of my back is a winking and shimmering constellation; my body itself is a river, a continent of rivers, a flickering, vibrating, shore less ocean of currents and channels, unfathomable, beginning less, endless.  The living ride on life like the foam on the crest of a surge on the cosmic ocean.

~ Paul Fleischman

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