Cherished Spaces

Textures of this space
where I inhabit my days
include an abundance of wood — floors, walls, ceiling, tables;
along with kitchen countertops made of black-soapstone,
and an Aga, enameled in red.

Textures of the energy here
feel infused by the surrounding forest
and I also believe
by the lay lines in the geography of the earth.

An energy of peace and healing:
the gifts of this cherished space
after Jamie’s recovery from cancer.

He’s fully recovered,
but these days, I find I rarely want to leave
this space.

I’ve become a hermit
in the ways
that we live here now.

Some of my most treasured in-person connections are with Buddhist monks,
and friends we’ve met
through the Buddhist monastery across the road.

Conversations about consciousness
and how do we lessen suffering
both within ourselves,
and then how can we ripple that out into the world? 

This space where I sit, tapping keys on my laptop,
cluttered with our ‘stuff,’
yet still,
a feeling of calm.

Belonging and contentment.

A space inviting my heart to sing.

This space stops me
from disconnecting from my soul.

Where I sit here at my pine wood rectangular kitchen table
the sun shines in. The corner of the cabin most filled with light.

Log cabins are more often filled with shadow.
But we get enough light here
for an orchid, a spider plant,
and three pots of herbs — thyme, parsley and rosemary
ready to transplant outside.

The temperature in this space is warm enough
to wear a mid-blue t-shirt and black capris stretch-pants,
but cool enough that I put on a tan-colored fleece.

Looking outside through the wood-grid windows, all I see is green.

A sudden spurt of springtime growth brings vivid green leaves,
all at once.

So different from the landscape where I grew up in Pittwater, Australia,
where it never snows,
the leaves are not deciduous,
and you don’t get that lush bright green,
unless you’re in a rainforest.

Gum leaves and eucalyptus trees
show a more muted grey-green and olive color.

And yet embodied in both settings:
a magical energy
I receive in transmission
through the souls of my feet
caressing the earth.

Hearing bird songs.
Without naming the birds,
direct experience
brings me into this moment.

Vegetables from our local farm.
Sensuous meals, tasting layers of flavor
embodies me in presence.

Fragrant peach and cherry tree blossoms,
a symbol of impermanence:
how quickly their blossoms fade and fall.

The touch of my sheepskin slippers
gently massaging my feet.
Cotton clothes feeling light upon my skin.

Solitude offering peace and contentment.

Looking in from the outside,
you’d see a decades-old log cabin surrounded by trees,
a bit tired
and in need of a coat of brown-wood-stain protection.

You’d see wild nature all around — no landscaping,
no English country garden which I would love to have,
but I would need someone else to create it and maintain it,
as I’d rather spend my time reading and writing.

You’d see a small herb garden just outside our kitchen,
and a peach tree struggling to live.

You’d see a deck in the front of the cabin
with a round table and chairs
under a gazebo providing shade,
and a wood-fired chofu that heats an ofuro — a Japanese bath
where we soak at night,
looking up at the stars.

~

And while in Flow on Monday, delighting in spilling words onto the page, I had a thought drop in for a new book to write. I will keep you posted, my dear reader on how this unfolds.

Thank you, as always, for reading!💕🙏🕊️