the sunday check-in

June 15, 2014

beka buckley blog
seeing ...lightning flashes across the sky // dark clouds roll in // mists lift among the trees appearing to steam // sunlight glows golden on the mountainside // raindrops splatter against the window // water rushing, tumbling through the creek

hearing ...thunder clap // rain fall // the part muffled voice of narrated stories and the imps gliggling to the funny parts // dog barking, whining

tasting wine // dark french press coffee // sharply sweet pink grapefruit // the crunch of toast

feeling ...the sharp pull of an overlong finger nail as it gets twisted // a sense of calm as I release what no longer serves me, this time more clear and defined than it has been in ages

smelling ...warm heady pine as sap rises and is drawn from the bark // damp air after the rain, ozone torn from the sky // freshly washed imps, hair still damp from the shower

reading ...bird by bird, writing down the bones, refuse to choose and let's pretend this never happened

pondering ...confusion and overwhelm as many threads converge, while others throw up more questions, though I recognise the signs of a creative u-turn, the Test just on that edge of escape velocity // creative practice and what form it should take as I explore and experiment with what works and what does not // the potent questions, what are your deep dreams? and what do you pack to pursue a dream, what do you leave behind?

visioning ...a meeting with Grandmother Crow // a clue to my next step on the bridge between where I am now and where I want to go

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