Where do you go to see the moon?

Is there an east facing window in your home where you can watch the moon rise?
Do you awaken during the night and bathe in moonlight?

How does the moon’s light affect you?

I’m fortunate to live in a home with a wide open expanse of sky.
In fact, when we were looking for a new home, two of my top priorities were these:

...to see the sun rise in the morning and the moon rise at night...

Several years ago, I rented an apartment in New York for a week
while attending a teacher-training.
Living in a fifth floor walk-up was quite a contrast to my country lifestyle! 
I felt disconnected from nature and disoriented.

One night, half way through the week, I looked out the tiny apartment window and there,
above the wires and window box air conditioners…... was the moon!

I immediately felt at home.

No matter where you are or what life circumstances 
you’re navigating personally or collectively, the moon rises…. 
providing a guiding light in a world of change.

“I see the moon and the moon sees me.
God bless the moon and God bless me.”
author unknown

​
​“Where can I give birth safely?”

Across Planet Earth women are asking this question right now.

The most carefully designed birth plans are “up in the air” as COVID-19’s sweep
brings change to every aspect of our lives.

As a Childbirth Educator, I strongly encourage every woman to
listen to her powerful intuition to guide her in choosing
How and Where to give birth.

The same question I frequently ask, holds true now:

“Where do you feel safe?”

What exactly does this mean?
Do you like the smells?
Are the sounds pleasing to you?
Does the lighting help you relax?
Do you trust your birth team?
​Do you feel respected?

In short, the same conditions you create to make love 
are the same conditions needed
 to give birth.

The options are fewer now.
​
Pregnant mamas have recently been sharing with me 
that they feel safest quarantined at home.

Might giving birth at home be a reasonable choice?

​How to share resources and
care for each other
 
 
 
 
How to trust the cycle of life

​

Skunk cabbage pushes its purpley folded leaves up through the earth
Peepers awaken the ponds
White snowdrops are blooming!
 
 Life goes on here

​

​The whole forest is singing!
 
Step in.
 

Pelicans.
 Have you seen one?
These prehistoric- looking seabirds populate the island. 

I know I’ve arrived when I see a pod flying overhead.
It’s quite a sight. I usually notice their shadows on the sand first. Looking up, there they are, twenty or more,
lying in their classic V formation.  

Why do they fly this way?

“During flight, an updraft is created by
the upstroke of one bird’s wing and
the following bird can take advantage of this wingtip vortex
to save a significant amount of energy.”
(Bay Nature Magazine, April-June 2012, by Michael Ellis)

Smart birds.

I wonder where they’re going so I decide to follow along.
The day is blustery.
A strong northwest breeze chills the air.
Since they fly faster than I walk, I soon lose sight of them.
I continue walking in the direction of the Inlet,
hoping it will offer some protection from this strong breeze.

As I near the rock jetty, I don’t see the pelicans anywhere.
In fact, I don’t see a single seabird.
Where did they go?

I walk along the top of the jetty, the ocean to my right,
the inland waterway to my left.
Surf churns and crashes onto the rocks,
spraying into the air in geyser- like fashion.

Wow. Water power is real.

The jetty leads to a sandy path bordered
by hibiscus and seagrapes.
I follow it to the Inlet Beach.

Looks who’s here! 

Pelicans and...Seagulls, Herons, Egrets, Cormorants
and a few birds I don’t recognize…..
all perched on the rocks, out of the wind,
​basking in the sun, enjoying themselves.
​

​For Love Of The Sea
 
Today, I’d like to write about seashells. I’m fascinated by them.
They are the sculptures of the beach, art forms
casually washed up on shore each time the tide rolls in.
 
Treasures of the sea.
For free! Imagine that!
Finding treasures for free!
 
Beach-combing, as shell collecting is sometimes called, is one of my favorite hobbies.
I’m not entirely sure why I love collecting shells so much.
 
I do know it’s the process I love.
 
Walking barefoot on the sand, my eyes on the beach,
the pleasure of finding a gem shining brightly.
 
I stop, pick it up, feel it and notice its striking beauty, its shape and colors, its contours and size.
I then decide to place it carefully in my bag or gently return it to the spot where I found it.
 
Usually, I keep almost every shell I find!
 
They’re so many shells on this little island, plenty for everyone.
​I love that.
 
They all have stories to share.
 
Where did they begin their ocean journey?
Who inhabited these lovely little houses, now empty on the beach?

​​I’ve been walking this same Florida beach for over 50 years.
Every year I find new shells.
 
This year we had some powerful surf for a few days which brought piles of shells!
A beachcombers paradise!
 
I collected so many shells I couldn’t fit them all in my suitcase!
Oh it was so hard to choose which ones to keep.
​I love them all.

​The waves also washed up an abundance of plastic on the beach this year.
 
Plastic bottles, forks, containers, tiny bits of colored plastic, plastic shoes….

​A high heeled shoe? Really?

​There are locals who walk the beach twice a day and pick up trash.
Bless them.

I gratefully joined their efforts.
One walk would be a trash collecting walk,
another would be a shell collecting walk.

I chose to keep them separate.
 
Recycling is big here.
Beach cleanup days are scheduled regularly and lots of people show up.
They’re taking responsibility for all of us.
 
Now we need to take more action and reduce our use of plastic.
 
The less we buy, the less of a chance it has to end up on the beach
or in the bellies of our precious ocean friends.
 
Because, it seems that no matter where it starts, most of our garbage ends up in the sea.
 
An estimated 14 billion pounds of trash, most of it plastic,
is dumped into the ocean every year. (seastewards.org)
 
I realize that reducing our use of plastic is more easily said than done.
Plastic is everywhere.
 
We can take a step.
Any step will make a difference.

Here are a few ways to begin:
*Eliminate the use of plastic water bottles
*Use reusable grocery bags
*Shop at farmer’s markets as often as possible
*Purchase reusable mesh produce bags
 
Reduce, reuse, recycle
 
I realize that collecting shells brings me into closer relationship
with the mystery and beauty of the sea.
 
All those who create beauty
deserve our respect and protection.

It has been said:

“When you find your breath, you find your teacher”
(unknown)

What is the color of September?
 
I say gold.

I say the color of goldenrod and marigolds, afternoon sunlight
​ and the gentle touch of yellow on maple leaves.
 
It’s the afternoon of summer, the turning of the seasons.
 
Endings and beginnings…
 
Letting go, making room for something new…
 
How does a leaf know when to change color?
How do the raptors know exactly when to head south?
How do the monarch butterflies know when to hatch?
 

They seem highly attuned to the slightest change in temperature,
light, sound and scent. Clearly, they’re guided by an inner knowing.
 
It’s afternoon as I write. A catbird calls from a nearby branch and receives a distant reply. A rabbit quietly munches greens at the edge of the yard. Crickets are beginning to chirp. The sun is already dropping below the trees, casting a golden glow across the yard.
 
“The lighting is beautiful right now,” says my 19 year-old-son Noah
​ as he walks by, journal in hand.

He’ll be going back to college soon. He’s recently discovered that journaling can be an effective way to process all the conflicting thoughts and feelings that arise as he prepares for change.
 
He searched his room and found the empty journal with the soft black leather cover his grandfather gave him. Now he’s off on a new adventure with a new friend.
 
“How do you feel after journaling?” I ask him.
“Great, clear,” he says.
 
I’m always amazed by what happens when I put pen to paper.
 
I had a whole different plan for this month’s blog and then nature drew me in!

Nature as teacher
 
Writing as a tool to lead us back to the power of NOW
 
I highly recommend putting pen to paper this month. Inspired by my son who was inspired by his friend Xander, I’m going to commit to journaling each day during September.
 
Would you like to join me?
 
All it takes is a pen and paper. Perhaps one day you’ll write pages, another….. a sentence or two, another…. one word.
 
 Simply putting pen to paper is enough! See what happens!
 
Wishing you clear sailing,
 
Blessings,
 
Deborah

Imani once knew her way to the garden, but she’d forgotten. The path zigzagged before her, twisting and turning in dizzying patterns.
     She stopped, sat down on the soft, mossy earth, and closed her eyes.
     “Where is the magic?” she asked herself,  “I can’t feel it.”
     She lay down on her belly and buried her face in her hands. Tears dripped onto her arms, dampening her sleeves.
     Imani opened her eye just as a cloud was covering the sun. She buried her face in her hands again. A gust of wind rattled the branches nearby, a chill running up her spine. And then all was still.
     “Imani, is that you?”
     A familiar voice called her name.
     “Imani?”
     She looked up.
     “Ila! She jumped to her feet and ran to her dear friend. Ila wrapped her great silver wings around Imani and hugged her. Her scales shimmered in the returning sunlight. Her long, powerful tail swished from side to side.
     “So, you were the cloud covering the sun!” said Imani.
     “Yes, sorry,” Ila replied. “It was only for a moment. My wings have grown so big that they’re sometimes a bit hard to manage. You’ve grown, too, I see! You still have your long, golden hair and blue eyes and freckles, only you’re taller. I’m so glad to see you. Welcome back!
     “Thank you,” said Imani. “I’m so glad to be back!”
     “I’ve missed you, Imani, Ila told her.
     Her name echoed in the air.
     “Imani”, she repeated “Imani,” speaking her name like her grandfather used to, calling to herself.
     It was then that she remembered her dream:
 
 
 
Stay tuned……
​

After our ceremonial lunch, I stepped outside. I was immediately drawn to the Gazebo.
 
Entering it, I understood why.
The screened octagonal structure provided a subtle boundary for me.
I could see through the screen and at the same time I was alone.
 
A rectangular table and chairs stood in the center.
A white cloth covered the table.
 
Simplicity. Silence.
 
I smiled, sat in a chair and put my head on the table to rest.
I could feel the gentle breeze from the nearby lake caressing the back
of my neck and shoulders, relaxing them.
Closing my eyes, the chorus of birds lulled me into a deep rest.
 
Some time passed.
 
The soft sound of a bell roused me, calling us to the afternoon
​ session of this beautiful meditation retreat.
 
As I lifted my head I noticed a large insect on the inner side of the screen.
 
The Queen Bee!

Impressive! How did she get in? Can she get out?
She has enough air to breathe but she’s without food and her tribe.
How long can she last?
I turned to go. I’ll check on her later, I decided and share what I’ve seen.
 
As I walked back to the meeting room, I remembered seeing two bumblebees
tumbling over each other inside a beach rose, earlier in the day.
I giggled at the thought of their joyful play.
 
Tribe. Food. Shelter.
 
The Queen Bee’s visit offered me a precious gift.
 
She reminded me that retreat is a necessary time to rest and restore
​ but not a place to reside indefinitely.
 
I also require food, shelter and my tribe in order to thrive.
 
 
Blessings and love,
 
Deborah