Leaving port once again,
never knowing if or when
we'll return, so until we do,
I'll carry with me thoughts of you,
and, tho' sails are set, charted course laid out,
there's still time to come about,
now, as the skipper shouts, “Helm's a-lee!” to me,
then's when I know, here's where I should be,
at the wheel, the vessel in stays,
yet, I can but do, the best I can,
as a running sea has many ways,
of soundly grounding, both ship and man.
God created the earth
Grounding connects you to the earth
Garlic grows from the ground
Incorporate these 3 and explore the difference, experience wellness and embrace the change within your mind, body and life. I’m just saying.
I did not ask
for the world to stop —
just for the echo to answer.
but silence
grew its own wings.
so i followed
the quiet,
to the river,
to wild grass,
to birds that sing
before dawn.
there,
i learned something
soft and strong:
that I can keep walking
even if the stars stay hidden
Now—
I walk not to be followed,
but to feel the ground
under my feet.
To breathe
and know:
i am still here.
and that is enough.
Each human have earned the right to be the architect of Their biggest disasters.' Or they can 'beg to differ'
Then they are choosers.' For none in Christ shall be loosers!
Child on Santa's lap
Decorations high
Band playing carols
Girls wrap many gifts
Mall is so crowded
Christmas Spirit
People joyous
Excitement wow,
My legs are tired
Silent Night
A child's laugh
Loud Singing
Turkey
Muffins
Cake
Contest Entry: A Grounding Technique
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick
Dated: 2024/12/11
Placed 1st in contest.
Mist covered tall trees
Myna on a wire
Sunshine mugged by clouds
Smoke of factory
Road snaking uphill
Cold numb fingers
Chill wind on face
Dry thirsty throat
Eyes yearning more
Humming wind
Rustling leaves
My breathing
Wet soil
Wet wood
Bread
I can see:
The pretty blue sky,
with bright sun shinning.
Fall garden sleeping,
flowers are all dead.
Big bees a buzzing.
I can feel:
Cool breeze touching,
my warm dry skin.
Warm lovely sun,
covers me up.
I can hear:
The birds sing,
barking dogs.
Kids on bikes.
I can smell:
Coffee,
donuts.
I can taste:
Cream.
I can see
Your smile entranced me
gaze mesmorised me
Your lips cushioned me
your eyes held my look
at your svelte figure
I can feel
Your arms enfold
my need for you
your tender touch
your need for me
I can hear
Your heart beat
your passion's
liveliness
I can smell
Chanel
perfume
I can taste
Love
Mother Gaia, she nurtures me.
Through my emotions she brings comfort.
She is as loving as she is wild and free.
Even when hurting. Fighting war and disease.
Rain patters upon my window.
She makes me cosy.
I am one with my soul.
My feet grounded to her earth and now I know.
I AM. I AM. I AM.
The strain on the strands of fate
Unseen forces pull
Trying to tug us their way
I anchor myself
I bend not to others will
G et out and allow your feet to kiss sweet Mother Earth
R aise your vibration and nurture your self-worth
O ut and far away from stagnant energy
U nderneath your feet lie negative ions that are brimming with vitality
N ow vigor and newness mirthfully abound
D detoxification and rejuvenation from fertile ground
i would love to pull you down from the stars
engrave your memories in my skin so my souls is reminded
of all the beautiful remnants, particles you have left behind
and passed on
so that there may breathe new life
creating space
sacred space
holy space
for the unseen to be seen
through the seeds that float through the wind
to be then felt
hope in aweness
breath in the hope
new breath
new life
as it passes once
it creates so many
it unwinds
and connects
from each unseen to see
to feel
it stays within me like a warm breeze
swiftly and softly passing by
and through
it is you...
it is you...
Messy,
Messy lives,
Tangled lines,
Often making strong distinctions,
Only after feeling underwritten,
Yes I've made some strong statements,
Now I see I needed them for grounding,
To be able to come back to center,
And not worry what yarns spin around me.
My percolator lost its balance
While it was a’bubble,
Spilling all the coffee grounds
And causing lots of trouble.
Below the burners there’s a space
For storing pots and covers,
A perk (no pun intended)
For apartment-living lovers.
Well, coffee grounds were everywhere
As well as brew half-finished
And suddenly my leisure time
For breakfast was diminished.
An hour later, all was clean.
Still, though I wasn’t shirking,
I noticed only 3 of 4
Gas burners now were working.
I made another pot of joe,
My morning meal much later
And took no chances, using
A much bigger percolator.
The stubborn burner got in gear
And soon was back on fire.
I’m glad my stove (from 1951)
Need not retire.
From the egg comes the Prince,
He’s got a long way to go,
He can only become King,
When the Prince has to go
It’s in his darkness that he learns to grow,
From the seed to the tree,
How big can he be?
He looks up, he looks down,
His balance, the middle ground
He must go back to the egg,
To release the hound,
Only then, the King can be found
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