For Mo

The past few nights, I've set aside

my most recent technique to quiet and still

the monkey mind while falling asleep.

(more about that another time)

I lay very still, burrowed deep into the covers

warmth surrounds me

My eyes quietly close

I am resting

My mind's eye sees Mo's place,

delicate, old and

in need of special magic from many

I see myself pick up a bodhrán drum I once saw,

beautifully painted with a howling wolf

I begin a steady beat

first in my heart, moving throughout my whole being

I begin silently chanting

Hey oh, oh

Hey oh, oh

Sing a song

for old lady bones

Tunnel below

Tunnel through

Ain't no place 

for old house bones

Ain't no place

to hold these bones

Hey oh, oh

Hey oh, oh

Hold her strong

Hold her long

Sing a song

for these old bones

Hey oh, oh

Hey oh, oh

Hey, 

hey

oh

My voice silently drifts off

I am still

Dearest Mo, may the good thoughts/actions/prayers/magic of many carry all of you through.

Below is a link for the type of drum I mention if you are so inclined.

drum link

May the chants of the nights carry you through your days,

xoNancy

Small Stone #7 and Huell's Passing

 Small Stone #7

Lights alive and moving, red, white, green and some yellow.  People out and moving, surprised at how many.  Information streams into my car cocoon, coasting along.  All at once I hear a familiar name.  Tuning in...a report of the death of a beloved public personality.  Shock.  Sadness.  Traffic flows.  Tears flow.

Nancy
January 7, 2013




 Note:
I met Huell Howser once, very briefly...just long enough for a photograph.  It is a memory I treasure.  I was so sad to hear of his passing tonight on my way home.  You can read of his passing here.
If you are not familiar with him or his work, there is much you can explore here on the web.  He was a very special person.  That's enough for me tonight.