A poem by my mother

Reflections

Had I been adequately prepared for your visit,

I would have…

Plucked the weeds from my garden

And replaced them with budding beauties,

Invited you to sit on a soft carpet of moss,

Shaded by growing greenery,

Planned a picnic of your favorite delicacies from distant lands.

 

I could not arrange an appropriate setting,

Yet you made yourself at home among weeds and unpainted boards.

You refused refreshment and placed my needs ahead of your own.

 

Like our Lord, you came to serve.

Long after sunglow, I’ll savor your sensitivity.

~Nancy J. Ressler

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photo credit: Grant MacDonald via photopin cc

Graduation

There was a day each year

when baby ducks were led

from the nest behind the school

through crowds of teachers, students, praise

 

Waddling over smooth, linoleum floors

through the lobby where the crowd

beheld the sacred, duckling footsteps to the door

 

They would leave the nest

smooth, round tables

long days of numbers and words

for dreams of water songs and wings

made real

 

 

© Angela Bigler 2013

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photo credit: stevehdc via photopin cc

Surrender

I should have bowed down

And surrendered

Every day

 

I should have told you

I could see you

Lovely

Like the wings of all those geese

Who flew away

When we could not

 

Our minds are different

Every nuance

Every chord

Like tight wound wire

Exposed

 

All the songs and visions

Overwhelm

The feelings come in swarms

Through skin and bone

And brain

All those nerves

Are reaching

For a breath

Within the flame

 

Without it

Where would words be?

Would summer be so deep and hot?

Electric

 

Can we live without ourselves?

Maybe, for a day

What then?

A quiet respite

In a lonely, tired grave?

 

You have a light

Surrender

To the weight

Of all these

Prayers

 

Heavy

Till you bow down

Head to earth

And shed the blame

 

© Angela Bigler 2013

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photo credit: chiaralily via photopin cc

Turtle Time

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Yesterday, my friend and I were out hiking around a nearby lake and she pointed out two bumps on a log in the shallow water. We rushed to a better vantage point and confirmed that it was two turtles, one big and one little. Their long necks were stretched out of their dark shells. We could not make out their expressions, but I imagine they were happy to be together warming in the sunlight.

Right now I feel like a turtle taking small steps in the writing of my book. This is a time of cautious reflection.  I, like the turtle, need my four feet on the ground. Inside my womb-like shell I can wade through the pages and ask myself the big questions. What is the goal of this book? What scenes matter most? What can be left behind? How do I balance the heart of what I have to share with an adventure that engages the reader?

What I know for certain is that it is a book about finding light in dark places. It is about our roots, the ones we are born with and the ones we create. It is about the magical point of light that can save you on the darkest journey. The kind of spark you see in lucid dreams. This tiny, spinning orb hums as it pulses and shines.  You reach out to touch it and it radiates through you as a warm, inner blanket.  I want to take you with me into this forest, transform and fire you with the elements and send you home polished and new. I want you to feel what it is like in the mysterious rabbit hole and guide you back to life.

I’ll venture back out when I’m done.

 

© Angela Bigler 2013

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photo credit: U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service – Northeast Region via photopin cc

photo credit: wander.lust via photopin cc

 

Gratitude

I am thrilled to be the recipient of 2 blog awards! I am new to this blog scene so it fills me with a delightful, fluttery feeling in my heart to be nominated!

From the amazing blogger Megan at http://meganhasocd.com/ I have been nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award.

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From the fantastic blogger Gwen, the 4 AM Writer at http://gwenstephens.wordpress.com/ I have been nominated for the Liebster Award for up and coming bloggers.

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I have been instructed to share some interesting things about myself:

I took one flying lesson in a Cessna.

I spend more time with animals than people.

I quit smoking about 3 years ago.

I love art and taking photographs. Sometimes I paint but I can only paint abstract things and not anything that is supposed to look like something.

One of my most favorite books: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

Currently reading: Swamplandia by Karen Russell

Currently listening to: Arcade Fire Funeral

Favorite Color: Purple – I can be seen nerding out in too much purple when walking the dogs

Guilty pleasures: George Takei feed on Facebook, Little House on the Prairie

SO NOW I PAY IT FORWARD AND NOMINATE

For The Versatile Blogger Award:

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http://biljanazovkic.wordpress.com/ Whose poems and paintings are amazing

http://brokenlightcollective.wordpress.com/ All submissions are from photographers living with or affected by mental illness and its all beautiful and thought provoking

http://disappearinginplainsight.com/ Francis Guenette’s site is full of fabulous thoughts on writing, her life, and glorious photographs – many from her lovely home in British Columbia.

http://nedhickson.wordpress.com/ Ned makes me laugh and that makes me happy.

http://throughtheluminarylens.wordpress.com/ Bruce not only takes stellar photographs but takes you on a thoughtful journey of places and ideas. 

I nominate this fine blog for the Liebster Award. 

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http://drivelikejayhu.wordpress.com/ Jay is a wordsmith extraordinaire. He’s got that razor sharp wit I love!

 

I am nominating this blog for being inspiring:

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http://leveluphealth.wordpress.com/ Lucas suffered a spinal injury in December 2011. On his blog he shares his road to recovery and takes the time to lift up everyone who stops by.

Thank you for visiting. I hope you are inspired to check out these great blogs.

 

Redwood Dream

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Dreaming takes down

The light curtain

Bathes us with visions of pregnant earth

Her life, her dreams

 

If we could listen in

Hear her whisper in the trees

See the color in their dreams

Those monolithic earth whale redwoods

 

Go see them in your heart

When you cannot feel their leaves

Or bark

Or roots

Inviting

You

 

She meets us there

That sacred

That vision

That rooted beauty

 

Folds our prayers

Into her soft bark

Her singing leaves

Her living roots

Inviting

Us to strength

 

Footstep by footstep

Connected in

Her graceful image

 

She

Can

Hearten

All of them

 

These waking walking earth dreams

 

© Angela Bigler 2013

photo credit: Lotus Carroll via photopin cc

Woman

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To be woman

Is the flowing strength

Surrender

 

This caring for others

Breaks my heart

But lifts me

And my curves

And bone

Smooth pelvis

 

What is different

Is my voice

More like a song

Or spirit

Than a masculine gruff

Not that I can’t growl

And bare my teeth

And burn

 

But my soft folds

Add dimension

And my million thoughts

Create

A certain way that contrasts

Yin from yang

 

To be woman

Is the pulse

And wind

Melodic mounds

Of birth

 

No matter if her

Children are

Her words,

Her songs,

Or beings

That she tends

 

© Angela Bigler 2013

 

photo credit: [auro] via photopin cc

mental haiku

Sometimes, when my mind is busy and spinning and sparking a notch too fiery, I tell it to be quiet. When that doesn’t work (that never works), I try to ignore it and find myself reading (but not quite retaining) self-help or reminders on post-its with advice for myself from myself.

If my mind is still reeling, unable to settle, I will write a list of the pulls fragmenting my attention. What books I want to read or research that needs to be done. There are scenes to be fleshed out. A page of displaced sentences impatiently awaiting adoption. Phone calls to suffer, people to connect with and appointments to schedule (the dentist – you must!). Not to mention the numerous life changes necessary for perfection.

The list expands into a fury of unrelated obligations and reminders about posture, forgiveness and potential dog behaviorists. I write a list of things to list on separate lists, and now I’ve really (totally) lost it, for underneath lies the compulsion to achieve it all instantaneously. It is the habitual inner crusade that drives all thoughts together into an impossible tangle of immediate demands. Now I am caught (again).

What I long for then, is to reset the mess and get clean. I seek out my haiku book. The white one with the fresh, spring green pear on the cover and open to any page. I carefully read one three-line set and float into simplicity and calm, thankful for respite and peace.

The time it takes –
For snowflakes to whiten
The distant pines

by  Lorraine Ellis Harr

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photo credit: jsbanks42 via photopin cc