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 …

Apophyllite – The Healing Stream

apophyllitewithstilbite2During long-term illness my nightstand was graced with crystal beings of many forms.  At times most dire it was calming to gaze at their sweet beauty and yes, to “feel the vibes.”  We each relate to stones differently so I will not be lauding Apophyllite as the crystal cluster of all time.  My personal experience was noting a room ambience of peace to near tranquility, along with a glistening touch of happiness.

While enduring the gauntlet to wellness there were many other contributing components and individuals to whom I raise my hands in deep appreciation. Apophyllite assisted my psyche with regenerating a synergy of balance and wholeness to a body filled with chaos.  I am forever grateful for having bathed in its happy, healing stream.

On a final note, Apophyllite is not a sleep with stone. “Ouch!” and “Damn it!”  Yes, I tried it. 

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