Thanks to our friends Martin and Rebekah for posting this piece of heaven on screen.
Blogging the stories of our family life on a yoga retreat in the magical village and valleys of Amieira, Central Portugal. Everyday we are tending this beautiful land and its stone dwellings in our journey towards self sufficiency. Moses is the Portuguese name of this place, meaning many mill stones. And, providently, is also the name of our beloved golden retriever, without whom, we'd never have found it. We love you Moses.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Arcs of Light in the Forest. By River.
Nature’s fluffy softness begs us to forget that we are tender and fragile. Inch by inch, step by step we seek to learn a new way to live. Every every stone laid, every wall plastered, every nail hammered, every seed sown we hope leads us closer to home and the illusive, corner of the eye vision we seek. We breathe in and out and appear brave, while caution pricks on like a thorn for Eve’s rib. But ashes to ashes and dust to dust it’s just us the Winters playing and singing and shredding and feeling the firm dark earth.
Each new detail brought into focus clarifies a little more of the picture. Each picture we see shows beauty and perhaps the need for a little more effort, more work, and more projection of will or is it subjugation, surrender? Inside we are moving and slowly tuning into a smooth groove. We now see clearly where effort honours will, in this grounding, wisdom like a Forest grows, but on the other hand let’s call it what it is a thrill, a joy to be here right here right now.
Each new detail brought into focus clarifies a little more of the picture. Each picture we see shows beauty and perhaps the need for a little more effort, more work, and more projection of will or is it subjugation, surrender? Inside we are moving and slowly tuning into a smooth groove. We now see clearly where effort honours will, in this grounding, wisdom like a Forest grows, but on the other hand let’s call it what it is a thrill, a joy to be here right here right now.
Nature weaves her seasonal tapestry around us, we become more attached, interwoven. In a swiftly fleeing arc of revolutionary light we glimpse ourselves connected to an ill formed but nonetheless growing body of people seeking a new way of life built on old foundations and places forgotten by the many but held by a few. We seek not an escape from work, for here there is work a plenty. Instead, we seek another kind of release, a break free from the title of slave, wage, slave, a new tune of living, jungle book style for a little while at least. The boundaries of our golden vision are linked, chained and fenced in by joy. In this context of links growing, connections forming, relationships blooming we feel a little more secure, rich in green fields, blue skies and roses out of stones.
Within this glorious light of courage there remains a sense of disconnection of not yet rootedness. “What can I contribute? How can I earn and stay out of the business scheme? Will my children receive all that they need? Am I enough or do they really need all that stuff the advertisers say they need?” Ripples of consternating sensation prostrated in the face of a beautiful dawn or sunset but heard, in the dark when we lay awake and wonder, “Are we crazy? Should we return to the city? Are we more secure here or there?” Here. For sure.
If you should ever come this way may we suggest a little game, better than counting sheep or hiding the head in sand. Stretch your eyes over the land and set a square vision. Try with all your might to replace every tree with a sky obliterating tower block. It has never been the case that we have managed to replace even one tree. So, though fragile we may be we dance and play on to a life of creativity, learning and await the call of revolution beyond what we here can offer. We shred Olive leaves and get ready to cover the earth for this year’s garden. An old skin, of an old self is dropped, a wet, heavy, suffocating coat to be stripped off and thrown.
A new celebration, where pictures are on walls and the firewood in the new shed. Where time has been spent in family and in friendship; where at the end we will still feel warm, not coldly enslaved but free to learn over a slower pace, thank God. I hope we minions take our festivals back. I hope, we return to tribal unity, brotherly affection and sisterly love and the bosom of light bringers wherever they are to be found even if it all seems upside down.
Strike up the band and play a new blues. Let the Light shine through the impenetrable undergrowth of debt. Let the snakes run to their holes of commerce and we earthlings, return to our Forest homes or to the nearest still alive tree. We are cashing in our coupons, checking out of the swelling need to buy something, taking our toys home and refusing to play. We are fragile, tender and bravely trying to save our souls and honour the complex rich family life of us, just us and yes indeed yes it helps when you fall and there are so many lovely friends and family to help you get back on track. Spread a bigger net, enlarge your tent and coppee down to the daffodils, tinkle on the piano, read nice notes from Aunties, O + Live, O + Love, honour the oneness all around.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)