Visio Divina

Visio Divina (Divine Seeing) is a form of contemplative prayer.

Lectio Divina is the practice of promoting communion with God through reading scripture or sacred texts, meditating on the reading, prayer, and contemplation. It has been a long standing Benedictine tradition. Visio Divina, (Divine Seeing) is praying with art, bringing in all the senses during contemplation. 

Our culture today is one of technology. If you observe a group of teenagers sitting together, or adults gathered in a restaurant, chances are the majority of them will be disengaged from the conversation; texting, checking email, using their cell phone, playing a video or an online game. 

We are also bombarded with messages through television, movies, music and printed materials that attempt to define us; to encourage us to fit into a secular box with everyone else. 

The media tries to indoctrinate us, especially our children, that character has no value. It exhorts that what is important is popularity and material possessions. The message is: If you don’t have the latest gadget or wearing the newest fad, aren’t the “first on your block” to own something, aren’t one of the kids sitting at the popular table or you don't have the perfect body type, then you don’t fit in. The media stresses, If You Don’t Fit In, You Don’t Matter.

The distractions keeping us from establishing a meaningful portrait of our true self and nurturing authentic relationships, are endless and overwhelming. This is especially true if we are confused about our true identity and self-worth.

 

“A picture is worth a thousand words!” How many times have we heard this expression?  Images and icons have touched us in unmeasurable ways. For some, the sight of a pregnant woman stroking her unborn child through her baby bump fills us with love. A veteran returning from war fills our heart with compassion. An ice cream commercial on the television at 10:00 often pushes us into the kitchen for “just a little bit of something!”

Images don’t stop there; sacred art and images of a holy nature often help a culture define itself.  

One of the first actions the Communists, the Nazis or any controlling dictator does when conquering a village or country is to outlaw all religious images, icons and statues. Citizens who are found hiding a painting or even the tiniest statue are imprisoned or killed. Artists and sculptors of holy works of art disappear, never to be seen again. That is followed by outlawing prayer and the practice Christianity in any form. Churches will be confiscated and turned into government offices or storage facilities.

Arbitrators of these types of measures know that the loss of holy images, the intimidation and threats towards those of faith slowly eats away at the victims’ souls, their identity and eventually, even their humanity. Clarissa Pinkola Estes, author, scholar and psychoanalyst, presents this theory in her book entitled, Untie the Strong Woman ; a book about the Blessed Mother’s Immaculate Love. She states, “Totalitarian ambitions move swiftly to first and foremost erase powerful sacred images that inspired souls to strive not for the state, not for any organization, but for the soul’s worth, toward Creator…” 

Many people are leaving their faith, or attending services in a robotic haze as an insurance policy for a place in heaven. It is highly likely that the only images they are going to have with  meaning are the ones that not only invite but insist that one strives for material substance and mainstream immorality. The possibility of knowing and recognizing the divine diminishes with every breath. 

Even if you don't believe in God, or a Creator or Source, it is vital to be able to see the divine in the mundane; to see that we are all connected and equal. We need to believe in the "holiness" of all of Earth and all her creatures.

While many take the bait our culture casts, many feel uncomfortable; they sense absence of authenticity; they are in a state of confusion, frustration and dissatisfaction.

Imagine if religious people everywhere could relate to the holy, to the sacred and divine in the mundane. If our soul’s worth didn’t depend on being reminded by sacred art, though sacred art is beautiful and glorious. If we could see God in the leaves of the trees, in the clouds sailing through the sky, in a tiny flower pushing its way through asphalt. What if we could recognize a sacred presence in the eyes of our neighbor; if we could close our eyes and feel the divinity in life flowing through us!

My husband and I are teaching a Visio Divina class at our church. It has been rewarding in many ways. We are meeting new people, contemplating the divine in the mundane and teaching photography lessons all at the same time.  

My husband is, also, the one of great faith. He knows his stuff though, speaking of religion, it would  be more accurate to say he knows His stuff? I, on the other hand, have been the great questioner!  I want answers and question everything. Visio Divina has helped me find some of the answers.

 

Curry

We have a roommate from Tonga (via Seattle) who is part Samoan and part Tongan. He is teaching us a lot about his culture, foods and traditions.

Sunday I prepared one of his favorite meals (without Taro leaves! Where does one find Taro leaves in Redding?).  The main dish included basmati rice, coconut milk and curry. I couldn't find goat either but lamb is readily available.  It was delicious!

I have two question?

How long does it take for the scent of curry to leave the house?

Can I stay at your house until the scent clears, because it is stimulating my appetite beyond words?

Where Did It Go?

Courtesy of musingsofthemisguided.com

My head on my pillow, blankets pulled up tight, my arm around my husband's waist. The clock read 3:58 and the darkness read a.m.  I listened to the breathing of the dogs, sleeping soundly, and the steady breath of hubby.

The feeling of comfort and safety was overwhelming.

In the aura of contentment, my mind started to wander.

In the traveling, thoughts gently came upon a part of life that needed to be reflected on. I turned it in all directions, looked at it from many angles. The subject was so compelling. The perlustration of it promised profound conclusions.

As I lay there, I begin to blog about it in my head. The title practically jumped into my head. Sentence after sentence virtually wrote themselves.

"What an awesome subject to discuss on the blog," I thought. Awe-inspiring and magnificent.  I will fill in the few blanks in the morning.

I yawned, listened to the breathing of my companions and gently fell back into a deep, peaceful sleep.

This morning, I awoke slowly. Apparently, having turned in my sleep, my husband's arm was around my waist, his breath on my neck.  We let the dogs out, showered and as Frank got ready for work, I changed the sheets and made the bed.

The boys (dogs) joined me in the kitchen where we shared some treats. I juiced some veggies and a couple of apples and chopped fresh ginger for my tea. All done with an overwhelming desire to sit here at the computer to share last night's contemplation.

So, here I sit. Tea steaming in my favorite mug. Boys settled on my feet to keep me warm. My finger tips resting on the keyboard and.....and....and....

It's gone!  All that wonderful predawn reflection is gone...completely.  The feeling of it is here, I feel the peacefulness of the room, the rhythm of the others' breathing is almost palpable....but every single word is gone....flown.....decamped....vanished....nonextant!

Dang, it was good, it was so good! I wish I knew where it went; I'd love to visit it!

Listory

Several years ago, I was given a book that is virtually empty, except for a prompt at the top of each page. It is to make lists of your personal story.  While looking for a copy of another book to give a friend, I rediscovered the little tome.

What wonderful memories it brought back and new memories that were added.

There are several pages that every-other line starts with "My First___________________________"

Do you remember your "Firsts"? Your first kiss?  Your first date?  Your first trip away from home?

Do you remember your first home of your own? Where was it? What did it look like and, more importantly, how did it feel to have your very own place?

My first home away from home was a small apartment in a pre-civil war Victorian style home. It was haunted and we called the ghost Colonel Corn!  It was 3000 miles from "home-home"! Boy, talk about "call before you drop in for a visit!"

The rent was $37.50 a month and that included utilities. Living room, kitchen (tiny), dining room, big bedroom and full bath. The bathroom floor was an add-on and had a small down grade away from main rooms! The land lady's name was Mrs. Smith. She was about 5 feet tall, in her seventies and could move an old double wide stove with four burners and griddle! 

The apartment was furnished. A body would automatically roll down to the center of the bed, which was perfect because I had just eloped and not a lot of sleeping was done in that beautiful little apartment.

Do you remember the first time you flew on a plane or rode a train? Do you remember how you felt about it? Were you excited, scared, hesitant? Where did it take you?

What about your first kiss? Where, who and when?  Did your braces get stuck together? Was it wonderful. Did it frighten you more than your first plane ride?

Do you remember the first music you bought? Was it a 45, an album, an 8-track, a cassette or CD? Maybe it was just a song downloaded to your Ipod!  The Ipod option seems sad to me. I remember the first 45 I bought. I walked to Ben Franklin's 5 & 10. Bought a small bag of popcorn (fresh), a glass bottle of Pepsi and "Our Day Will Come" by Ruby and the Romantics! 

The excitement of holding that little flat disk all the way home was almost more than I could bare. My folks had just given me my first phonograph and I couldn't wait to hear those words, "Our day will come and we'll have everything...."! When it got to the "no one can tell me I'm too young" I would get goose bumps! I was so "in love" with that guy around the corner".

What are your most memorable firsts?  First day in the Navy? First day at college? First day of marriage (after the wedding and hangover?).

ACT III

Photo Courtesy of White Flower Farm

Still working on the details of Act III of my life. I was reading Mary Oliver's poem about peonies and their “eagerness to be wild and perfect for a moment before they are nothing, forever.”

I am not looking for perfection in Act III, way too many kinks to iron out and I am not going to spend the last 3rd of my life ironing! I am, however, eager to be wild in my old age. Not the wild of my twenties, which, when I look back, was not wild at all but more a controlled rebellion of my parents rules and regulations, as well as, societies strict guidelines.

Speaking of guidelines, my wildness was strictly within the guidelines of all the other rebellious twenty-somethings and that doesn't smell of wildness to me.

I want my 60's and 70's and hopefully, my 80's to be filled with laughing that challenges my bladder, sights and music and moments that make the hair on my neck and arms dance.

Tuesday evening several friends and I sat in the audience, swaying to the music of Patty Griffin and John Fullbright and it was incredibly difficult not to jump to my feet and dance. Patty moves with a grace and sensuousness from her soul while she sings. She is truly alive up there on that stage.

That's what I want out of Act III. I want my movements to be sensuous, not in the sexual way, but meaning that all my senses are alive and aware of the moment. I want to smell and taste color, I want to hear the sky, I want to feel the visible and invisible. I want my eyes to see, really see what surrounds me.

Our book club read Cheryl Strayed's Wild this past week, it was a second read for me, but it reminded me of hiking in Lassen Park alone last week. Granted, it was not the Pacific Coast Trail (because, frankly, that sounds a little insane to me) but I was alone in the trees and the mountain air. I was alone in the silence that is not silence but an incredible symphony of nature's living instruments.

Act III is beginning to weave itself into reality. I've decided there should be no script to follow; plans, yes, but nothing carved in stone, flexible for changes of the wind, of spirit or calls of the soul.

I will feel the wildness in acts of daily living, feel the joy of water running over my hands when I do dishes, I will dance while I vacuum, I will feel the blessing of warmth with each log I throw into the woodstove.  I will travel, sometimes with and sometimes solo. I will sing with all my heart (except for the tiny bit of heart that has pity for anyone in hearing distance).

In Act III, I believe, I will be a Peony, for a little while.

Peonies by Mary Oliver



"....the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding
all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again —
beauty the brave, the exemplary,
blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

Cut Paper and Maude WhiteHand-cut

Hand cut paper art by Maude White

I was surfing the World Wide Web this morning....(remember when we really called the Internet the WWW?)...

There are several artists blogs that I follow on a regular basis. They will often refer their readers to other interesting sites. Some sites are storytellers, using prose or poetry.  Some spin their stories through other means.

This morning I was introduced to Maude White. Her work is indescribable! All the paper is hand-cut and one piece.  "Exquisite" does not do the work justice.

After reading her Artist's Statement, she sounds like a friend I haven't met yet. She states that she has always been compelled to see what is underneath things or looking through things.

I have an addiction to the same habits, though my predilection includes looking into the shadows. If you go to her site and study the pictures she has mounted, the shadows will astound you...well, at least they astounded me!

Visit her. I think you will enjoy the trip!

Maude White

Mt Lassen Celebrates Autumn

Gold has often lead people to great downfalls. Yesterday, I confess, the promise of gold had me in it's grip most of the day. After dropping my husband off at a trail head just east of Hat Lake parking area, I headed out to capture as much gold as I could.

Returning to wait for Frank to hike back up the trail, I sat on a rock to finish reading my club book selection for Wednesday's discussion on the way to Ashland. 

The scream of a hawk made me look up! No hawk to be seen, but Mt. Lassen was right there, between the trees. How could I have missed taking her portrait the whole day. Now the sun was just about to set, putting the grand lady in a shadow and entirely too much glare.  I took the picture anyway.

They say "a picture is worth a thousand words" and this picture says it all. Gold is still capturing souls. I was so busy looking for the trees, I missed the forest, or in this case, the Queen!

After snapping a couple of photos of her Majesty, I read out loud to her and the hawk, sitting on a large rock. A wonderful end to a wonderful day.

The gold was there to be found, though, and I brought home some nuggets from my day of mining.

The Aspens were dressed in glorious colors, though the wind was blowing and with each picture a hundred leaves would dance around, then fall to the ground.

I found the tree to the left with almost all her branches reaching to the east. An unrequited love for the sun?

The sky to the north was the most brilliant sapphire blue; quite the background for leaves so orange.

Driving around Lassen Park, I would park my car here and there. Then take a short hike to the glimpses of Aspens spied through the green pines.

A devastating fire blasted through the park, destroying so much of the dense forest but thankfully many of the aspens groves survived. There is a large grove just south of Devastation Area; quite a hike in soft lava dust which is extensively undermined my ground squirrels. Not a fun hike for most and certainly not advised for anyone with bad knees or hips.

This is the grove that survived the fire, though right after the fire, the trunks showed signs of being scorched. We worried about them all winter but discovered fresh leaves on the trees last spring.

Here you can some of the trees that didn't survive; a very small part of the horrible loss the park suffered in the fire. The damage follows the road for miles.

For any of you that know me personally, you have to know how scary it was for me to stand this close to the edge of the cliff to get this picture.

Many prayers were said, with great reverence!

Frank hiked up the Hat Lake Trail and photographed another beautiful grove of aspens, then hiked down to this grove from the south side. I wouldn't advise anyone with heart problems to attempt the hike. It's a great hike down but an incredibly challenging hike back up!

When he returned to the car, I told him how easy it was to get to the edge of the cliffs. I found myself back there in minutes as he took the same shots which I will not be sharing with you because they were so much better than mine.  p.s. his camera is much better, his lenses are much better and he is much more knowledgeable about things like ISO, aperture, shutter speed. I just put the little black do-ma-jig to P and aim! 

Isn't it strange how we can be so focused on one idea or goal that we can become blind to so many wondrous things right in front of us?

All day, the goal was to photograph autumn leaves. Late in the day, I realized how beautiful the shadows are as they dance on the white bark. The contrast is lovely, especially surrounded by golden leaves, sapphire blue sky and pine needles.

How many other wondrous and whimsical events had I missed during the day?

I had missed the tiniest inhabitants of Lassen Park.

They were just as beautiful as the Aspens but much more shy, hiding behind the rocks and fallen stumps.

Can you imagine mountain fairies wrapping themselves in these little leaves at night for warmth; maybe using them for frilly skirts to waltz in at the Fairy Octoberfest?

Then, there were the pine cones, probably placed on the rocks by children as I believe they are way too heavy for fairies to lift.

There is a cluster of sisters whispering to each other as the breeze whistles at them.  What secrets do they share with each other? Are they planning their elegant spring gowns? Maybe they are discussing their longing for the coming winter nap when they sleep and dream under their white blankets of snow.

Forest friends. Are the pines promising to keep watch while the solo Aspens slumber?

Have you ever noticed how the aura of one tree will blend with the aura of it's neighbor?

These two trees look as if they are preparing for Christmas.

Can you imagine decorating your Noble Fir only with glistening balls of gold?

Santa would be sure to visit, if not just to admire your sense of style!

All in all, Lassen was beautiful yesterday.

I put the camera aside many times to just be with the trees and the mountains; to listen to the music of the wind. I even made some headway in the book, wondering if the old man ever made it to the mountains.

If we had waited, just one more day, all the leaves would be blanketing the ground. The trees would be bare. There is rain and wind and maybe snow in Lassen Park today. The prefect recipe for stripping the last vestiges of autumn from deciduous plants, rocking them to sleep for the long winter.

We'll be seeing you when the snow is deep enough for grandchildren to sled down slopes. We will make snowmen and have snowball fights.  Uncle John and Uncle Adam will prepare the perfect slide tracks. Auntie Ashley will race you down the hill. Auntie Becky will pull Nana out of the snow that has trapped her....again.  Uncle Brian, will hopefully enjoy the day and not break or twist any body parts. Auntie Nicole will photograph it all.

Nana will sneak back to the car and sip some peppermint schnapps, peel oranges for the adventurous kids and, perhaps, surprise them all with clean, dry socks!

October Ritual

"October is my favorite color!"

Have you heard that expression? It's true for me. October is my favorite color and my favorite month.

October is also the time of year that we head to Lithia Park in Ashland to photograph the leaves, check in on the Wood Ducks and stay at our favorite B&B.

We got there a little early this year and beat most of the color, though Lithia Park never disappoints. Even without being surrounded by brilliant trees dressed in yellows, oranges and reds, it is still an incredibly peaceful place to sit with a good book (or a good man).

I found a bench facing the upper pond. Now and then a small gust of wind would blow a little shower of leaves through the air and onto the surface of the water. At least 50 gold fish were swimming close by, darting away from me only when we were disturbed by ducks or turtles.

It was the perfect spot for soul searching. Peacefulness surrounded the space, enough so that an older person, in purple, found a protected bench and snuck a little nap in.  Even the ducks whispered as they passed.

I will be returning this week (depending on rain) or next with women from my book club. We are planning a picnic and discussion of our latest book. It seems to me that to sit on a colorful quilt, chatting away with such wise and loving women while nibbling on breads and cheese and fruit is always, always, a joy. But to enjoy such an event in Lithia Park will certainly grace the occasion, making it even more special.

When I am old I will wear purple and nap on park benches.

We did find some color in a tree, here and there, and captured all we could.

The sun played peek-a-boo from behind clouds all day, making it difficult to get any of the color back-lit, but my husband and I are planning another trip later in the month.

The lower end of the park was closed off to traffic when we first arrived. A concert was in progress and beautiful music floated up to us for several hours. Nice being accompanied with such wonderful energy. Music, trees, water, wind, mountains in the background....does it get any better?

Our annual drive up the canyon, counting the pairs of wood ducks and competing for the best photo of the weekend is always a special time.  Of course, I will never have the best photo but it's fun trying and the smack talk that comes with the competition is some of our all-time best bantering.  I do excel at banter and smack!

I love it when trees get in close and pose for me! 

"Now lean in so I can capture both of you!"

The sun broke out just as we were leaving the park.
Cameras loaded in back seat, tripod in the trunk, we jumped out and clicked a couple of more shots.

Our Motto: Dinner can wait! Photo Op First!

Only two pairs of Wood Ducks had arrived. They wandered all over the pond, chasing the gold fish and diving for other treats. The reflection of one of the bright orange trees made a perfect backdrop for that one-in-a-million duck pic. Do you think any of these guys would swim through it. That would be a "NO!"

One of the elegantly feathered male ducks would head directly to the tinted surface and six inches from the golden backdrop he would swerve left or right, followed by that peculiar wood duck laugh. Don't tell me it isn't a laugh...frustrated photographers know these things.

Surely, as anyone would have wagered, the white duck (not a spot of color in any of her thousand feathers) was in and out of the orange spot.

I believe she was smiling too! She seemed to be the queen of the pack. What does one call a bunch of ducks? Not a herd, not a pack...oh, yeah, a flock! And flocked they were!

All-in-all, it was a good day!

Recommendations for shooting in Lithia Park:
If shooting without a tripod, remember to skip the large blended Dutch Bros Kicker coffee on the drive up!
Watch for deer poop!
Put the camera down now and then and just enjoy!
Don't eat the gold fish!
Don't disturb any nappers, especially the ones in purple; it's their right as senior citizens to nap wherever inspired!

22,377 Views

Dear Readers,

I love you all. You fill me with joy every time you send me an email or text sharing your disappointment that I haven't been writing.  In fact, even the lectures have been kind of ego-building!

When I retired Wandering and Wondering there were a little over 21,000 views. Since retirement, the views have grown to 22,377. It tickles me; over 800 visits to old posts.  I loved your comments and  the emails asking me to bring it back to life. I dug in my heels, crossed my arms and, basically, cut my nose off to spite my face.

Yesterday, I received a very stern sermon! Basically calling me out for letting a mosquito on a bear's back stop the press. The lecture was not all cliches but it did hit it's mark.

Wandering and Wondering is back on line, though I will still keep the merry troupe alive in my other blog, in spite of my lecturing proponent's lack of approval. (Can't win them all, dude!)

Thank you all, for your kind words and encouragement.

Deprevation

A dear friend is writing a book.

He is an excellent writer.

He put off penning his book until he finished his Bachelor's Degree.

To feed-the-need to write in the meantime, he has posted regularly on his blog.

To feed-the-need to read intelligent, interesting material, I read his blog.

My friend graduated and received his degree.

Apparently, he is now working on his book (good for him) but, more importantly, WHAT ABOUT ME!!!!

He is not posting to his blog as often and I miss it.

Dear Friend,

Finish the frickin' book already and get back to your blog!

Sincerely,
Just Me

Filling My Cup

Shouldn't one have to purchase a ticket, stand in line and willingly board a roller coaster if they want a ride?

Life has a habit now and then of grabbing one by the scruff of the neck (or elsewhere), tossing and buckling you into the back seat of a chute-the-chute; then standing back to watch the show.

The final two weeks of June, 2014 was filled with ups and downs and twists and turns. Not that I can't handle ups and downs and twists and turns. In fact, I think I am pretty good at it but, dang gum; when life shoves six months of living into a two week Big Dipper, a person's nerves get a little raw!

The final twist of the coaster ride was to be a two-day workshop in Lodi. We headed for the workshop on Friday but to be honest, I had lost my zeal for the seminar, even though I had really anxiously been looking forward to it for months. If I had seen an infomercial for

 Instant Zest and Zeal

Free for only $19.99 plus shipping and handling

I would have dialed up and ordered 10!

My eyes were swollen from crying, happy tears and sad tears, angry tears and tears "just because"!
My cup was empty. At one point, my poor husband stopped to grab lunch in a drive-thru. He nonchalantly asked me what I wanted! I burst into tears! Uncontrollable tears rolling down my expertly applied make-up from eyes already the size of golf balls!

He got me a large coke and a burger with extra onions! He knows how to make me happy.

I am usually a cup-runneth-over kind of gal but my cup was empty and raw!

The workshop was great. Aha's and epiphanies going off everywhere. I think it was Socrates that is quoted for saying an unexamined life is not worth living. He would have lifted his toga and danced, danced, danced after this class.

Class was great, learned a lot; still cried and melted down a couple of times.

We climb into car and head for home...or so I thought! Half-way home my husband pulls into a Target parking lot, grabs my hand and pulls me in. He gets a cart, drops two sleeping bags into it, two large waters and a box of granola bars.

"We're going camping!" he announces!  "I've always wanted to photograph Hat Lake at sunrise!"


Off we head to Lassen. No tent, no stove, NO RESERVATIONS on the weekend before the 4th of July and clothing completely inappropriate for mountaineering!  BUT....don't you like how there always seems to be a BUT in life's circumstances! But, mountains fill my cup! Mountains, starry nights in the mountains, the smell of camp fires (even if they are someone else's smoke!).

We pull into Lassen Park, find a site at the third or fourth campground. We put the seats down, crawled into our brand new sleeping bags and fell asleep watching a sky filled with bright shiny stars.

Just before sunrise, I woke Frank up. "Honey, I see a glow on the horizon, we should drive over to Hat Lake." He opened his eyes, smiled at me and was asleep, all in one breath!  I climbed into front seat and drove the two or three miles to Hat Lake.

What a beautiful day. Hat Lake was gorgeous, Lassen, as always, was majestic. We took some back roads once we were out of the park and discovered some meadows and vistas that could only be described as paradise. We also discovered how easily it is to get lost if you wander off of A Line. If you plan on wandering off of A Line, you should let someone know!

Our cups are full again. Thank God for mountains and lakes, for majesty and simplicity and mostly, for perceptive husbands!  Side note: hiking in gold dress-shoes isn't suggested but if that's all you got, what the hell!

"That's been one of my mantras - focus and simplicity. Simple can be harder than complex. You have to work hard to get your thinking clean to make it simple. But it's worth it in the end because once you get there, you can move mountains."
Steve Jobs

"Great things are done when men meet mountains." William Blake

"My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of churchgoing." Aldous Huxley

My father was much different than Huxley's. My father taught me that walking in the mountains was God's church. He taught me that we go to church to talk to God
but we go to the mountains to listen to God.

Mountains, wilderness, wild flowers, little streams creating their own songs; all of it talks to my spirit.

My kids once asked me what they should do with my ashes after I'm gone. I told them I couldn't care less. I've changed my mind and would really like my ashes scattered in the mountains amongst the trees and granite; in the arms of God and Mother Nature. That might make being in heaven that much more special!


Where do you go to refill your cup?  What feeds your spirit and your soul?