Wednesday, June 20, 2012

that sweet golden clime

of the moon, not the sun

i'm more inclined towards the moon than the sun, very, very inclined and content to spend long periods in my dark little cave, but i tried to take a cue from julie's excellent sense of celebration and festivity and open myself to the sun this solstice week.  first, hiking in big springs up south fork canyon.  at every turn you have to gasp a little at the drama of the uintahs--aspen groves, meadows, snowy peaks, crevicing mosses and streams.  often i feel like i'm anticipating the end of whatever i'm doing, but on this particular hike, i felt a rare and true sense of union with

i don't know.


lula's homemade spinach pesto soltice grilled cheese sandwiches

 tonight lula created a special dinner for the family.  somehow she knew it was what we needed.  she's precocious in the kitchen, and has very good and specific taste.  then the three big girls and i went to yoga


a sunny bowl of lula's roasted tomato basil soup
 we were taught by the wise &  lovely celia at 3 b yoga in a gentle session that gently referenced solstice ("just do a baby cobra here.  it's too hot out, so don't put your head too far out of the hole.")  it was almost 8 p.m. when the sun was at the top of the windows in the studios and i really felt


some sort of

openness and


that is not usually there.  i hate too much light, but it really filled my whole body during yoga tonight and i almost felt a sense of levitation.

there's a line from a kabir poem that's been running through my head since that moment i have become the melody.

i realized tonight i need to do a lot more gentle/restorative yoga, plus the meditation.

i've been too frantic, too consumed with trying to go faster.

lula is my sunny shero

and finally, i will take any excuse to read and share this blake poem.  j'adore!  

it's solsticey enough, no?

what's so helpful in this poem is to remember that the sunflower will follow the sun to its very peak and then lay it's head down on the ground along with it's doppelganger sunflower in the sky.

and then start all over again!

and then start all over again!

but you don't need my take!

get william blake's!

Ah! Sun-flower!
by William Blake

Ah Sun-flower! weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the Sun:
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow
Arise from their graves and aspire
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

p.s.--i'm wondering if two instances of very strong moments of transcendence in a single week have any relationship to my recent work on the artist's way?

don't forget you can win your own copy by leaving a comment on this post.

1 comment:

  1. I'm starved; I wish I were eating L's lovely meal at the moment. So great you hiked! Last night, K and I were on dirty sidewalks slicing our way through the humid dark.