My Four Doors

We all compartmentalize our life experiences and place them in the nooks and crannies of our neural pathways.  I am no different than any other in this regard.  A preference has grown within me over the years to think of my life contemplations as being behind four doors marked Family, Spirituality, Friends and Teachers. They are in no particular order of importance, as said order ebbs and flows throughout our lives based on guess what … life experience. My theory may appear simplistic because we all know there are countless other things that make the mind go around … and around.  For those of you needing a greater level of order in the filing cabinet of the mind, let’s just say there are plenty of long hallways with smaller doors representing gazillions of subsets under each of the four master doors.  Let me introduce you to my doors and bring you to a level of understanding that may turn out to touch the soft underbelly of me.

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Family:
Waiting in my mind is a door to an older home with a screen door overlay … so necessary toward “bangin’ that baby” on the ingress or egress.  Here rest memories of joy and abandon, love and distrust, new life and too soon gone, baking bread and burning water, embraces and arguments, commitment and deceit, welcoming and letting go. It is the place of all things family, and includes those special few who are family beyond friends.

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Spirituality:
There is an immediate olfactory quality when nearing this door; old growth forest and the crisp healing quality of well-oxygenated air.  It is heavy carved wood and covered with symbols of all faiths.  Many glyphs upon it are without association to anything known. This door never looks the same way twice as the metamorphosis of my soul changes with every passing moment.  It represents the reason of my existence, the honing of the real me … that which stands at the windows of my eyes and looks out upon the world.  Here you will find respect and judgment, light and dark, empathy and disdain, love and hate, giving and receiving, forgiveness and heart hardening, ritual and nature experience.  The list is endless and everlasting.  It is difficult to touch upon both sides of our nature; to recognize, accept and embrace.  Here it must be done.  Behind this door, down in your deepest well, hold the child that waits for you there … it is the universe.

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Friends:
Ahhh … the comfort of friends and tender environments in which one is welcomed without question.  This door is ordinary and leads to an inviting apartment where friends gather in wild abandon.  It is a sacred place of listening and being with, walking alongside and bringin’ it, gut-grabbing laughter and free-wheeling tears, emotional bonding and accepted disagreement, love and the hot sting of rejection, lifelong relationships and never forgotten friendships of a single day.  Life is not fully complete without the dear ones behind this door.  Those who have not been blessed by friends and/or the opportunities in life to nurture or find them … it brings tears to think of a life so difficult.  Perhaps their soul is honed in other ways, such that it becomes pure gold.

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Teachers:
The large oaken door of life-academia, holding those things that have taught and branded the spirit … leading to those true teachers in the traditional sense that left their indelible mark and the kid next door who engendered realization not everyone has food on the table; the mirror warning not to wear that “slutty” dress (a judgment of society) and said dress that taught how to wield “it” … and it was good; moments of unjustified temper leaving shame in the air and megaphones of demonstration bringing attention to injustices that abound without resolution; the lover that brings a heart to open without restraint and the flaming pain experienced when the last kiss fades; kind and loving souls of those who give to others in a balanced yet never ending stream and embittered hearts of those burned out by having given beyond their sanity.  We teach ourselves and are taught by everything else there is.  For some this is a difficult acceptance and for others it is a welcome relief.  My personhood will serve to teach others in spite of itself along the way in my day-to-day; I will be taught and I will learn … always. My gratitude is endless.

Each door is a complexity indescribable.  My words are lost in the din of it.  There is a common thread behind each of the four doors discussed above.  Did you notice?  Weaving its way into all avenues of life … it is our purpose.  Simply love.  Be it.

~ Eve ~
The Walking Owl
For the love of stones … and more …

We All Glisten

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Feel the Gift

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Raise your palms … look up … and as a plant to the sun … feel the gift.  

                                                                                                                 ~ E. R. Brown ~

The Roof Hole Stars

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Wild hair blows in the crisp night breeze
Moonlight travel in the “Too cold!” freeze
Throat frost pain in the run to warm
Grandmother Moon looks down; no alarm

“Where go you child, running fast and far?”

“To the barn, and the hay, and the roof hole stars!
They are all I need, dear Grandmother mine.”

“Hurry on, little one, you will be just fine.”

                                                                    ~ E. R. Brown ~


Watercolor Up Late by Lance Weisser

Do you have a special place?

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Yes indeed, and you can see it above; my childhood home in Southern Illinois, just waiting for me to bust though the screen door … slammity bammin’ it to beat the band.  My formative years were blessed with this environment and my mind still seeks to rest there. Silent walks in blazing moonlight through high-drifted snow; rain-washed hot days with bare toes mud-bathing in fresh plowed fields; cornsilk rolling and grapevine smokes (hack ack ack); spooky corn shocks (shuck stacks) marching the morning mist, and my particular favorite … sunlight streaming through barn walls bringing hay to glitter.

Then came a different day than all the rest. This sweet farm home was lifted into the eye of an F5 tornado while below the destruction of 18 outbuildings took place.  Sliding down the writhing trunk of the wind of winds we were set down with a subtle thump, leaving very nearly only the bedroom in which we rode it out.  Cuts and bruises were the only injuries. The family psyche has forever been altered by this event, though not negatively.  Each of us accepted the change quite well and despite longterm adjustments … along with purposeful “round the kitchen table” therapy sessions …  it was and is unanimously seen as a necessary movement in our particular wheel of living that relocated and thereby introduced us to new life directions.  We were collectively blessed by the miracle of survival and the push toward new beginnings.

Though my personal sanctuary ended abruptly, it is still the place most sought in my mind’s eye when times are hard or there is simply need for a touch of peace. Meditation often includes the aroma of sun-warmed pears just out of reach on a wild tree climb, raucous pecan tumblings to a tin roof on a breezy day, honey bee buzz in the chimney flu, or Jack Frost forming woodland trails on the morning window panes.

I would imagine my last thoughts will include a remnant of these precious memories.

There is a beautiful postscript to this story and it is shown below. Not long ago a dear friend and artist extraordinaire (S. A. Kerr) gifted me with a painting of my special place.  I am in awe of her talent and the absolute replication of my heart.

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~ Eve ~
The Walking Owl
For the love of stones … and more …

Feel Bliss

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Step onto the path of this Great Creation … our abundant Earth Mother.  Feel bliss rise from the soles of your feet.  ~ E. R. Brown ~

(Mother Earth by Jenness Cortez Perlmutter)

~ Eve ~
The Walking Owl
For the love of stones … and more …

My Dear Friend – The Rock

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I can still see my own tiny hand resting on the smooth river rock that charmed my mind as a sleeping companion for many formative years. Simple colors of grey, cream, beige, and brown swirled within its weighty cosmetic appeal and if given the choice of a teddy bear night-time comforter in lieu … … never!

Neural pathways built upon that endearing stone contain dreamtime fantasies of wild rivers, roaring waterfalls, clear tumbling creeks, and still mountain pools with undulating water grasses.  No family member is surprised my life has within it a bevy of stones.  “She was a funny little girl.  Sleeping with that rock, you know.”

I never knew what happened to my dear friend, the rock. Through all these years it has been a fond memory and a beloved anchor in my soul toward times of unfettered simplicity. On a summer’s day along a woodland creek it is still a sweet ritual to place my hand in the soft moving water and rest it on the rounded comfort of another river rock incarnation … teasing me with its inanimate ruse.

~ Eve ~
The Walking Owl
For the love of stones … and more …