Karinaland River

  Don’t We All Need Care Packages? How can a small package create so much feeling and pleasure? Well, this package has had a long odyssey coming all the way from Königshagen in Germany where my brother Matthias lives, it is traveling to the US twice. First time, end of August – in a spontaneous move – my brother sends it somehow incorrectly even though it cost a lot of money. Sitting at customs in US for a while, it is then after all returned to him. But das Päckchen urges him to not give up, it is feisty. At the post office he finds out about another option, and mails it again. It takes only 3 weeks this time. So, five days ago, the small package lies peacefully – to my eyes smiling wistfully – in my mailbox after almost three months . My heart leaps. Inadvertently, it has now become my "early" birthday package. Without hesitation, I allow myself to open it. Letting the content spill on the carpet, I am oohing, aahing and cooing, feeling the delirious excitement of very you

  Promise Sickle moon – floating promise  in post-sunset dimming Thursday sky  my curious heartbeats leap across  approaching bank of dusky purple  clouds ready to swallow all afterglow    leaving my field of vision imprinted  with the delicate empty cradle  a skeleton ebony bowl sailing  quietly into obscure night – who  will invite us to embark the boat    for surely unknown destiny  so far from home just minutes  before dinner – in the basket  mushrooms and bread snuggling  with small honey nut squash    will we make it  it is so dark  the promise  so faint  a memory    wide open ears  face raised skywards  will the rains wash dusty lips or were  we slow to drink the fainting moonlight  our bare feet must appease the roads  so no blood will spill – promise    we will feed and cradle – promise our heartbeats must appease  the gods of vengeance    refusing despair and demons   we will feed the stranger  we will cradle what is other     we will feed and cradle we promise you   Karina E

  Belonging Together We desire this, not that, prefer this over that, and chose a side – but times are such that we must learn to hold  BOTH  &  AND .  Sorrow & joy.  Good & bad. Death and life. Far & close. Loss & gain.    For me, this year was one of loss. Or was it a year of inner transformation? More like BOTH.   My stepdaughter murdered .  (click & read)    Mama Oak gone .  Yes, of course, the loss of the big old Live Oak tree in whose protective wide arms I had been sleeping for 15 years, was painful, too. ­ Both brought on the vulnerable and familiar feelings of grief – exposed. Both broke my heart. A doctor diagnosed me with Broken Heart Syndrome . Heart-broken, and at the same time full. Full of gratitude. Both. That’s how I would describe my state, all spring and summer. I had to dig deep and find courage in-midst of my frailty. Allow myself to be soaked in the silent sorrow without drowning. And I am not a stranger to losing close loved ones to death.