Spirit of Summer

Some of my favs together on a summery Memorial Day.

There's a turtle dove bobbing it's head as it strolls down the sidewalk. The dove is one of my favorite birds. I remember fondly meditative afternoons on the front step at our Corsica, SD, home, sitting and listening to cicadas and doves with their hypnotic chorus of buzzing and cooing. The cicadas eventually drown out the dove sounds on those sleepy summer afternoons that melt into evening into the short and long night of Summer.
The wait was sometimes a patient one. I would allow my focus to go soft, my view to widen as in would fly the white horse of Spirit. Working with myself in such a way, I would often reach into relaxation and grab hold of something unholdable. When it would slip through my fingers I did not care, often because I would feel so in tune with it I was beyond care. The State would travel with me for a while.
The joy of connecting to Spirit, to God, is a warm bath on a cold Winter's eve. It's a cool river, in the shade in the desert, cottonwood trees and sandstone creek bed forming the cozy meeting spot of Spirit.
That meeting spot is a glimpse into who I Am. It's the dove cooing, the humid summer day oozing into me or the blending of cool stream and pounding desert heat.