They are the future waiting to be born.
Fear not the strangeness you feel.
The future must enter you, long before it happens.
Just wait for the birth,
for the hour of new clarity.
– Rainer Maria Rilke
Today is my friend, writer, fellow spirit seeker, Donna Knutson’s birthday!! Wishing her happy today and every day!
Sharing and loving her beautiful thoughts and words describing the lovely world event of her time here:
When 58 is Almost Gone and 59 Flowers Are Coming on Strong
Purple Iris …I let things die, and filled in holes…watered children and sappy songs.
Ranted about the radiance of Angels and cardboard boxes filled with 36 years of married love…
I chopped up word search puzzles because there is passion and paradox in loving words that heal, instead of hate…then tied them on a string, like prayer flags blowing through the bedroom in a February wind.
I wrote Voice with purple pen on a hundred sheets of silk like paper, folded them in drawers and placed them near the windows, so the morning sun could warm their chords and prepare the world for what sound would come that day.
I angled photos and trinkets from baskets, memorizing short periods of my day where love was the only witness to my growing , to fading a bit more like Autumn, then into a bright summers sunset spoken softly now, rose colored, like winter…
Family and friendships took in artists and dreamers…wedding vows that added deeper love to our days…heart shaped rocks in tiny boxes on tables to say we belong to one another…and children that grow into wonderful stories of every lasting love…
It was August before I blew kisses to the toddlers playing in a nearby gym, their jumping and fantasies whirling with my inner child, shaking fingers and toes, while hopping through a hundred thresholds, finding keys to a million doors…
I taught class while learning the heart of acceptance, forgiveness, fables and follies…how one can know absolutely nothing, and everything one needs to know…to be a water-bearer flowing…to kneel while pouring…to bend at just the right moment, to wash a glass, dimly lit…
I fought a concrete city with a magical jungle holding religions and relationships…forgave myself for not knowing how long I had been loved and known…how one gift could change it all…found sacred ground under a community with feet. Dancers who know how to move to a rhythm and a beat…
God speaking Yes, porous and free …a mystical thread sewn into the bone of the body,
A year like no other…just beginning to gather purple Iris for another…
photo sources found at http://www.pinterest.com