stamina | The Direction of Intention

Enter And Listen [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on March 18, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

A Haiku for You

A forest critter,

Gnome, Leprechaun or Spirit,

Tree Dweller, Heart Door.

Sometimes I want to believe in magic. I want to think there is an angel at my side. I want to sit in the certainty of Rumi, knowing without doubt that the entire universe, the whole of infinity, is tipping in my favor.

Sometimes I want to know what tomorrow will bring. No surprises. I want to know that the good people will win over the rage-mongers and truth-spinners. Just like in the movies. I want to know that perseverance will inevitably meet ideal circumstance and all will be well in the end. I want to be at the other end of the week so I can tell the story of what happened, the story of stamina and fortitude fulfilled.

Sometimes I want to know that the eagle flying by at just the right moment or the hovering hawk or the owl hooting outside my window at midnight is bringing me a message: we’ve got your back. Fear not. Take another step. From our height we can see the meadow, the sun and tall grasses. We can feel the hope, breathe the calm.

Sometimes when she spies a heart-shape and kneels to capture it for her collection, I want the gentle spirit, the gnome or sprite living in the tree or residing in the leaf shaped like the symbol, to make themself visible to us and affirm that there is meaning in the mystery, that in this life there is more sense than we can possibly imagine. There is reason. A reason. Yet, I already know what it would avow if it allowed us to see it: the meaning of the mystery is always found right where we knew it would be, where we know it to be: in the heart. Our vast open hearts. We do not need to seek it or wish for it. We need only enter and listen – more than just sometimes.

read Kerri’s blog about HEART DOOR

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Filed under: Love, Merely A Thought Monday, Metaphor | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, forest, fortitude, Gnomes, heart, imagination, infinity, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, leprechaun, listen, meaning, meaning making, mystery, perseverance, Rumi, semiotics, senses, spritis, stamina, story, studio melange, symbol, the melange | 1 Comment »

Breathe Again [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on November 30, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

To say I sobbed is a bit of an overstatement. I’d been raking leaves all morning. It was clear and crisp. I’d just finished stuffing the last green bio-bag in the front yard and hauled it to the curb for pick-up. All that remained was to collect the bags from the backyard and move them to the curb. That’s when I heard her playing the piano. I couldn’t believe it! I slipped beneath her studio window and listened. This was no small moment.

She played after she fell and broke both her wrists. She couldn’t open a doorknob or button her shirt but, somehow, she found a way to play. She had to. The pandemic had already taken one of our jobs. Her bosses could not find the heart or moral compass to afford her time off to heal. One hand in a cast. One hand in a splint. Nine useful fingers and an immobilized thumb. She played. Nine months later, nearing complete healing, she fell again. A wet floor. No signs. This time, the injury was debilitating. The depression that followed was a deep dark crevasse. She stopped playing altogether. She sometimes stood at the door of her studio but rarely entered.

These past few years I can count on one hand – well, two fingers – the times she played. When Rob visited I asked her to play for him. She chose a few pieces. Rob was moved to tears. I could tell it hurt her. She was asked by an old friend to play for a transgender memorial service. With her brace she was able to play the two 15 minute sections.

Sitting beneath her studio window, listening, the pain and loss, the weight of the past few years flowed out of my eyes. A flood of relief. She was playing. For herself. For no other reason than to feel the muse. It was a step forward. A step toward. A step back into the light. A moment of possibility.

I felt as if I’d been holding my breath these many years. Now, perhaps, on this crisp fall day, it was time to breathe again.