-

Solstice in Red 


All flowers invite us to ponder the mystery of life, the unknowable that might bring us closer to beauty. Beauty as an alive quality which is transient, transformative, and awe-inspiring because we humans can’t quite grasp it. Within this mystery, layers of vibrations reveal a depth, a shimmering being-ness that shines bright in its delicate beauty. And the fleeting song pierces – we are left with a fluttering in the heart...  

 

may we protect 


the always unknowable

 

mystery of life

Since childhood up till now, I get lost for eternal minutes in the face of a flower, her presence consuming me. Growing up the red poppies at the side of the fields my favorite, but I am equally intrigued by forget-me-nots. Mohnblume. Showy flowers are of lesser interest. Vergissmeinnicht. Each has a distinct song. Diving deep into the mystery of a single tiny wildflower, face to face with the Big Mystery…. 


May we know true Beauty


Comments

aysha said…
For many years of my life, I have cried - felt sad, unworthy - when encountering such beauty. With your guidance I am slowly learning now about the courage it takes to let such beauty into my heart. To allow it in directly, without all of the energy involved in pushing it away or wallowing in self pity. It feels daring, intimate, and erotic. I want all of this!
June 21, 2023 at 10:32 PM
Ecraig said…
The red poppies are so magical 💓
June 22, 2023 at 8:06 AM
Karina said…
yes, daringly erotic :) life affirming intimacy... the courage to be alive in direct experience....
June 22, 2023 at 12:47 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

-
Image
  Immigration On Friday morning of September 20, I am spending a couple of hours for my naturalization interview in the federal building  on 630 Sansome Street in San Francisco  that houses the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Then later at 1 pm, in the oath ceremony, I am reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. Standing, holding up my right hand like everyone else, repeating the words after our master of ceremonies, I am engulfed in a chorus of immigrants’ voices from all over the world. Out of maybe 80, only two are Caucasian. The man leading us through the 20 minutes ceremony, is most likely a judge, but without his robe. He is an elegant, kind, and personable elder. We can hear the genuineness in his voice, and we are genuine, too. As we pledge allegiance to this country, the English sentences might ring slightly different for each of us. In another minute we will be citizens of the United States. Something in me is expanding. I am swearing to be a responsible an...
Read more
-
Image
Let Us Be Careful   The last few days, a feeling of being adrift in a vast tumultuous ocean…. I am stirred deeply.  Uneasy. The recent bizarre speeches of American politicians in Germany have left me strangely irritated. The arrogant tone, the hostility. As most of you know, I am now officially  both a German Citizen and an American Citizen . Both countries with their histories and cultures are lodged in my bones. Ich bin tief verbunden . In telephone talks with my two siblings, I try to find out how things are evolving in Germany, the country I left 44 years ago. In recent years, cultural transformations of unknown outcome have been happening. Again, times of war in Europe. It does not bode well for the future. The weight of the Unknown. Generational and personal memories keep arising.     In 1992, I arrange for my (Chicago born Jewish)  late husband Bob Blauner and me  (München born German) a personal tour of the Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial. W...
Read more
-
Image
  Last Dance with Uncle Oak This time, to honor the loss of another member of my ancient live oaks, I want to climb into the tree. Like I used to do 32 years ago, move, touch, feel – suspended in the air, resting on bark, sensations to be remembered. Perhaps documenting it? I ask around last minute, and find a good match in photographer  Rebecca Weinstein  to take stills of my last dance with old Uncle Oak. Once my naked feet touch the rough bark, a dynamic joy starts spreading through my body and limbs. The surprising urge to elongate myself within the safety of his sturdy arms. Next morning in a different light, I dress for another chance of closeness, envisioning my smallness to be captured. The freedom to grow into a tree, become tree , get an oak’s view, blend well, and disappear eventually. Uncle Oak, has been leaning for decades, growing northward horizontally, reaching far over into the neighbor’s yard. Now that Mama Oak has left, his malaise is more apparent...
Read more