pollen

Everywhere in my neighborhood there is an explosion of Spring. 

Allergies are a main topic of conversation. 

Thinking about pollen and its essential role in propagating life ─ 

why has human sensitivity evolved in a counter direction. 

What does our immune system reflect about our disconnect 

with natural processes? 

No answer. Just a question.

spontaneous smiling

Walking down Valencia Street yesterday, I realized 

that how I observe people, the place, the action has changed. 

The awareness came as I realized that in one city-block,  I had smiled 

at an overheard conversation of two young women discussing a potential boyfriend; 

smiled at the look of boredom on a child in a stroller; 

and smiled at the fierce look of a gentle bulldog on a bejeweled leash. 

The three smiles, spontaneous, without judging the observation 

is a leap forward for me. 

And, I think it can be attributed to the Small Stone project: 

being part of the observation, not making an intellectual assessment.

This photo has nothing to do with the musing above. I just like it. :-)

in the moment

Most of us live very little in the present.

If we could watch our thoughts,

we would be surprised to see how much time

we spend in the past or future –

or simply daydreaming, out of time altogether.

Very seldom can we say we are fully present

in the present moment.

Yet now is the only time there is. 

                Eknath Easwaran

The glorious reality of Spring seems to help me stay in the moment, 

at least for a moment. 

It made me think of this quote from an important teacher in my life. 

Easwaran's focus on living in the moment

is one of my most difficult challenges.

When a painted lady touched my arm

Today’s unseasonably warm weather reminded me of a beautiful moment.

FROM MY NOTES 3/15/05

As I walked west on 19^th St. in front of my house, on one of the warmest Spring days in SF history, I slowed to watch a beautiful butterfly--a painted lady--it flew up and slowly lit on my left hand--stunned--I just watched and held my hand perfectly still. After a time, it gently dropped to the warm sidewalk--maybe to catch some of the last warmth of the day. I watched for a long time and then turned up the slightly curving staircase to my front door. I could barely see to put the brass key into the lock--tears filled my eyes and sped down my cheeks. An angel? A departed spirit? I thought of the line from my love poem, Paradox,

Certainty emerging

from passion

                       

Constancy woven

of desire, fantasy, hope

Catching time as it flows

missing its immediacy

Intricate contingencies of love

cannot bear stasis

Unsure waft of a butterfly’s passing

as real as death 

 Sadly, I did not have a photo of the painted lady (vanessa cardui), but love this photo from another Spring.

what was ordinary

The meaning of life changes when we confront loss.

Our search for meaning and purpose

leaves us wandering and bewildered.

What was ordinary yesterday

becomes precious today,

and what was precious yesterday

seems dull and lusterless.

What we liked becomes uninteresting,

but what we love becomes everything.
                                                 ~ Stephen Levine

 

 

on a city street

 A chill fog touches

the gray sidewalk.

A tall woman and a tiny girl,

hand in hand, move slowly.

At the corner, a long pause,

perhaps a rest.

The girl looks up.

In slow grace

the woman bends forward,

kisses the child.

(c) Duff Axsom, 2013

petals on a bough

The small bird

let a chirp

from its beak:

    I heard

woodnotes, whin-

gold, sudden.

The Lagan 

    blackbird.

The Blackbird of Belfast Lough

(Early Irish poem) The title of this post is from Seamus Heaney,

who sees a similarity between ancient Irish poetry and haiku.

"this worldness. ... Both are alert to their physical surroundings yet possess a strong sense of another world to which poetry promises access. In each case, it’s as if the poet is caught between the delights of the contingent and the invitations of the transcendent."