Owl

Owl

As you fill with wisdom,
and your heart with love,
there ’s no more thirst.  

There ’s only an unselfed patience
waiting on the doorsill, a silence
which doesn’t listen to advice
from people passing on the street.   

Sanai

It is the month of May, and our neighborhood is teeming with flowers of all colors, shapes, and sweet scents.   Some blossoms like the California poppy are native to this region and others have been imported from distant lands.  Their collective presence creates a sense of lightness, as though their coming into their beauty had been effortless.  Yet, their growth has been nurtured by the light and heat of the sun, insects and birds, moisture, minerals in the soil, and the phases of the moon.   

As the daytime wanes, the heightened fragrance in the air announces the coming of night.   Then, the smells give way to sounds.  On a clear night, constellations of the stars are visible, and this week there is a supersized full moon.  In the depth of the night, there is an occasional howl of a coyote and or a bark of a dog.   Within the last few weeks, an owl has settled into the neighborhood, revealing its presence with its rhythmic hooting.  

Although I couldn’t see the owl, I am sure, with its keen sense of vision and observation, that it was aware of my efforts to peer through the darkness in the hope of seeing its form glide through the sky.  After the passage of a couple minutes, I chose instead to let go of the trying to see it and just appreciate that an owl was temporarily visiting our semi-wooded neighborhood.  I stood outside and felt the cool night air on my arms and face.  Silence enveloped me, offering reminders of times of feeling simultaneously safe, yet alert, when staying in a tent in the wilderness earlier in my life.  

“Keep your wits about you,” arose into my awareness.   Immediately, a sort of sixth sense arose, allowing me to intuit the night’s wholeness.  The surrounding trees had eclipsed the moonlight so where there normally would have been shapes and forms, there was only an expanse of darkness.  I had to rely on an innate set of “wits” to detect subtle movements around me, and to be able to respond in focused and discerning ways.   I thought of the owl, and all the owls around the world who are heralded by humans for their patient ability to observe and see what most species can’t, and to move with quiet, fluid precision.   Some cultures consider them as omens of death – not only loss of embodiment, but the demise of established systems and well-worn habits.

The wings that carried this owl to our neighborhood were those of sorrow and grief.  Near and far, a large number of humans are experiencing multitudes of loss and change.  The comfortable din of busy-ness has been momentarily muted, baring all that we normally can choose not to see.  This is a sad time of transformation. 

Other species have stepped forward with timeless messages of listening to our inner guidance; paying attention to and caring for the little things, especially those that go beneath our radar and that we take for granted; revering all that supports our comforts; taking and consuming only what we need; letting go of old patterns and voices of those that feed our fears and judgments; being courageous as we face the unknown; being patient, listening, and observing, then acting with discerning focus; offering beauty, sweetness, and kindness in all that we say and do; and, being filled with lasting truth and wisdom.   At the core of these is a change in heart toward thirst-less love.  Please join me in stepping into the nighttime of love, where all belong.  

Practice
This short practice invites an appreciation of silence.

Prepare – 

  • Find a comfortable seated position on the earth, floor, or on a chair. 
    • If on a chair, allow the soles of both feet to rest on the floor. 
  • Invite your breath to be free and easy, again without forcing. 

Practice – 

  • Close your eyes, or keep a quiet gaze.  Breathe:
    • As you inhale, imagine your breath is radiating outward from your heart center simultaneously in all directions – back, sides, front, up, down.  Relax your belly and release tension around your shoulders, chest, eyes and jaw.  
    • As you exhale, imagine your breath is softening into your heart center, deeply nourishing the very core of your being.
    • Breathe this way for six breaths.
  • Lightly place your hands over your ears. 
    • Continue with the pattern of breathing above for another three breaths. 
  • Allow your hands to rest in your lap.  Lightly smile and continue this heart-centered breath for another three breaths.

Transition back into your day – 

  • Sit quietly for a few moments.  
  • Then, consider ways you might move through your day with an inner sense of quietude, and how that might manifest in your thoughts, speech and actions.
  • When you are ready, return to your day.    

This poem is translated by Coleman Barks and appears in Mala of Love: 108 Luminous Poems, page 83, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  H E A R T H is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2020. 

NOW AVAILABLE!!   My new book “Our Inherited Wisdom”  54 Inspirations from Nature and Poetry  (click for online purchase).  This is a perfect companion for your personal reflections. 

(May 2020 – NATURE WISDOM FOR OUR FUTURE (video length is 1 min 47 sec)

Gentle Giants

Gentle Giants

Our hands imbibe like roots,
so I place them on what is beautiful in the world, 

And I fold them in prayer, and they
draw from the heavens light. 

St. Francis of Assisi

As I stepped outside to feed the birds, the neighborhood redwood trees were bathed in the early morning light.  In this bucolic view, there was no visible trace of the pain and suffering in the world.   There was only light, and sky, and treetops. 

It made me wonder if such beauty always carries a sense of hope for harmony and peacefulness among all earthly beings.  Certainly, the redwoods themselves are living reminders of the power of equanimity.  Their strength and ability to weather storms is ever-present in their graceful, columnar trunks and evergreen needles.  

There is a hidden beauty to these Coastal Redwoods.  Rather than their prominence or grandeur, their secret charm is in their natural way of being.   Unlike the giants in most of our human mythology, the redwoods are gentle sentinels.  For thousands of years, they have modeled true generosity, kindness, and steadfast devotion to the wellbeing of the whole.  They support all life around them from beneath the ground to the uppermost regions, e.g., other plants, insects, worms, mammals, reptiles and birds, along with the health of the soil and air.  At their roots, they intertwine with and nourish one another from generation to generation.  

Almost everywhere on earth, there is some part of nature with similar altruistic qualities of the redwood.  The soil itself offers the ground for us to live and move, not to mention being a source of our food.  It has mostly been in the last couple of centuries that our human species has experimented with shaping economies and group attitudes in opposition to our earthly inherited values of cooperation, altruism, non-greed, and being grand in our gentleness.

Now with our global pause on this Earth Day, we are challenged as humans to reflect.  We have a choice as to whether we can humbly acknowledge our own ancient, human ancestors who gave us the ethical roots on which we grow and stand.  Ironically, their tenets reflect those natural ones of our earthly home.  Or, do we choose to continue the path on which name, fame, impatience, and indulgences are all that matters?   

The choice is ours – individually and collectively.  I’m choosing to listen to the ancient beings – human sages and saints, and earthly caretakers like the redwoods.  I hope you will join me.

Practice
This practice invites gratitude for our earthly home.

Prepare – 

  • Find a comfortable seated position on the earth, floor, or in a chair.
    • Allow your spine to lengthen upward.  Try to gently lift from your pelvis, navel area, and then lower ribs.  
  • Wherever you are – inside or outside – acknowledge one or two parts of the natural earth that sustains your body, e.g., the ground beneath you. 
    • Pause for each and imagine as though you are holding them in your hands.  Notice how that feels, for you e.g., scary, calming, reverential. 
  • Invite your breath to be free and easy, again without forcing.  Perhaps smile to further support ease in your breath. 

Practice – 

  • Lightly place your hands on:
    • Your thighs, acknowledging the grace of solidity within you.
    • Your lower belly, acknowledging the grace of beauty within you.
    • Your navel area, acknowledging the grace of vitality within you.
    • Your chest, acknowledging the grace of transformation within you.
    • Top of your head, acknowledging the grace of equanimity within you.
  • Bow your head with your hands in front of your heart with gratitude for these gifts that are represented in the gentle giants and the rest of natural world around us.  
  • Then, allow your hands to relax lightly in your lap or on your thighs.  Sit quietly and allow yourself to breathe with an even length between your inhalation and exhalation.  

Transition back into your day – 

  • Gently rub your hands together.  As you do this, invite a sense of loving, caring attentiveness not only to your hands, but to all that they touch, create, and express.
    • Then, if you wish, hold your hands, palms open and upward, in front of your chest. Imagine you are holding the entire earth with caring, loving attentiveness.
  • Relax your hands into your lap or on your thighs once again.  
  • Sit quietly for a few moments.  And, when you are ready, return to your day with renewed appreciation for your embodiment and earthly home.

This poem is translated by Daniel Ladinsky and appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 86, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  H E A R T H is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2020. 

NOW AVAILABLE!!   My new book “Our Inherited Wisdom”  54 Inspirations from Nature and Poetry  (click for online purchase).  This is a perfect companion for your homestay. 

Stay!

Stay!

If God
invited you to a party and said,
“Everyone in the ballroom tonight will be my special
guest,”

how would your treat them when you arrived? Indeed, indeed!
And Hafiz knows that there is no one in this world who is not standing upon
God’s jeweled dance floor.

Hafiz

“Stay!”  Though an open window, I heard my neighbor Ruby’s voice.  This has been a near daily, early evening occurrence for several years.  It is one of those ordinary, everyday things that I take for granted and rarely even notice.  My normal response is to think “Oh dear, Matri has run into the street again.”  Matri is Ruby’s dog, who is consistently friendly, curious and ready to greet the world. 

After two weeks of sharing with millions of others the experience of staying at home, I am ever more attentive to routine moments.  My senses have more acuity and awareness of nuances.  For example, Ruby’s call to Matri conveyed her love for her dog.  In the sternness, there was an expression of sincere concern for Matri’s well-being. 

Maybe for the first time in our lifetimes we have become attuned to the word “stay.”  If we really peel back the layers of emotions that we are going through, we might discover that there actually is an inbuilt desire to stay.  Most of us want to stay, be alive, and continue to be connected to all that we love.  We wish the same for those dear to us, knowing we will grieve if we can no longer laugh or walk with them, or if we did not take advantage of the chances we had to do so. 

Most humans, particularly those of us with comfortable lives, are unaware of our primal impulse to stay.  We tend to be equally forgetful that while we are alive, we share a common home – the earth.  In fact, we are in a kind of communal “homestay” where we are guests living with other species and elements, which are the source of our air, heat, water, food, and even space to move about and commune.  While sages, poets like Hafiz, ecologists, and public health experts have long told us about the nature of our interconnected home, it has taken a tiny virus for us to hear the multilayered wisdom within the word “stay.” 

I thank those of you who have my book “Our Inherited Wisdom: 54 Inspirations from Nature and Poetry” and read this H E A R T H blog.  My consistent call is for us to stay with each precious moment, and recognize we live in the midst of wisdom.  This little experience with Ruby and Matri is one of many that I have had in the quietude of slowing down, and staying. I hear the bees humming loudly, smell the fragrance of the air even at midday, and see sparkle on the leaves and grasses.  The sky is clearer.  And, on a human scale, there is amplified awareness that not all have homes, or are safe at home.  As easy as it would be to feel imposed upon and view the directive to “stay” as a lockdown, I choose to let the experience further erode those layers of unawareness.  After all, as Hafiz says, we are guests on God’s “jeweled dance floor.”   

Practice
This short practice invites grounded-ness.

Prepare – 

  • Find a comfortable seated position on the floor or in a chair.
    • If agreeable, remove your shoes.
    • If you are on a chair, please place your feet on the floor.
    • Note:  If you have chronic neck issues, please skip the following neck movements and simply sit and invite relaxation into your facial muscles.
  • Allow your right ear to drop toward your right shoulder.  
    • Pause. Breathe a few breaths as you invite a stretch in the opposite of your neck.  
    • Shrug your right shoulder upward to the ear, bring your head back to center, and relax that shoulder.
  • Repeat on the left side.  

Practice – 

  • Stay seated.  
    • If comfortable, close your eyes; otherwise, leave them open in a soft gaze.  
    • Bring your awareness to the surface beneath you.  Notice where your body is touching that surface.  
      • Allow yourself to accept that support, whether it is the earth, floor, cushion, chair, or bench.
    • Open your eyes if you had them closed.
  • Still seated, place your palms on your thighs.
    • Gently press your palms downward.   
    • Feel that the skin on your thighs is embracing the touch of your palms.  
    • Remember that support beneath you.
  • Stand.
    • Notice the surface beneath the soles of your feet.  Notice where your feet meet that surface.  
      • Allow yourself to accept that support, whether it is the earth or floor.
    • Walk carefully around the space where you are and feel the embrace between your feet and the surface beneath you.  

Transition back into your day – 

  • Come to a seated position.  
    • If comfortable, close your eyes.  Otherwise, invite a soft focus to your gaze.
  • Sit quietly for a few moments.  
  • When you are ready, return to your day.


This poem is translated by Daniel Ladinsky and appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 91, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  H E A R T H is posted each new and full moon.  The photo is courtesy of the New York Public Library. KateVogt©2020. 

NOW AVAILABLE!!   My book “Our Inherited Wisdom”  54 Inspirations from Nature and Poetry  (click for online purchase).  This is a perfect companion for your homestay.  It is a handbook designed to support your personal reflections and practice.  There are even blank pages for you to write or draw your responses to the poems and reflections.  There are also mini practices to help ground, calm, and uplift you.  The index functions like a browser where you can search on different themes, such as inner qualities for well-being.  Enjoy!    

Gracious Embrace

Gracious Embrace

I was delighted with myself,
having offered everything I had:
my heart, my faith, my work.

“And who are you,” you said,
“to think you have so much to offer?
It seems you have forgotten
where you’ve come from.”

Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks

A sweetness entered my awareness as I opened the front door.  Immediately, the inner grumpiness dissipated with an infusion of fresh early morning air.  The mood change had come about because I had arisen an hour earlier than my biorhythms had expected.  It was the Sunday when time had “sprung” forward an hour for the annual shift to daylight savings time 

 Outside it was mostly dark.  A few stars lingered in the sky that was giving way to light.  Silhouettes of nearby redwood trees and rooftops were beginning to appear.  Soon, the bustle of the town would begin.  I stood still and savored this moment that I had almost missed.

This morning embrace was a humbling reminder of the gracious essence of existence.  For eons, life has dynamically folded and unfolded within an invisible, infinite unknown.   The tides ebb and flow.  Living beings are born and die.  Laughter rises and fades.  Perhaps it is the sheer immensity of reality that causes us to narrow our focus to our little irritations such as the time change and its impact on our sleep. 

 Rumi invites us not to get overly attached to our experiences or beliefs in life.  We can so easily take any one of them as our own, and then wrap it in judgment and arrogance, or fear and anger, or even delight and happiness.  For now, I’ll stick with reverence and awe.  I hope you will join me.


Practice
This short practice invites ease.

Prepare – 

  • Turn your electronic devices to airplane mode.  Remove any non-medical measuring devices, such as your watch.
  • Stand.  Stretch.  Then, gently shake out your limbs – one at a time.  

Practice – 

  • Standing, bring your hands in front of your chest and open them like a book.  Imagine that you are holding your truest self within your hands.  Let this be a reminder of your own inner sweetness and kindness.   Then, bring your hands into prayer position in front of your heart-center. (Let your fingertips and base of your palms touch.  Leave a little space in the center of your palms.)
  • In the following, you will be quietly saying the words “Namo Namaha,” which can loosely be thought of as “not mine.”  You may wish to re-read the poem by Rumi to support this practice.   
    • Inhale:  Sweep your arms out to the side and upward.  Bring your palms in prayer position over your head.  Pause.  Take a full breath.
    • Saying or chanting “Namo Namaha” (Nah-mo Nah-ma-hah), bring your hands back to prayer position in front of your heart-center.  Pause. Take a full breath.
      • Remember that feeling of holding your highest self in your hands.  
      • For the movement, you may:
        • keep your palms together and let them slide down the center of your face and upper torso;  or, 
        • sweep your arms out to your sides and back to your heart-center.
    • Repeat this six times.  

Transition back into your day – 

  • Come to a seated position.  If comfortable, close your eyes.  Otherwise, invite a soft focus to your gaze.
  • Sit quietly for a few moments.  
  • When you are ready, return to your day.

This poem appears in Mala of Love: 108 Luminous Poems, page 31, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  Photo by M. Wrona.  H E A R T H is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2020.

NOW AVAILABLE!!   My new book “Our Inherited Wisdom”  54 Inspirations from Nature and Poetry”   This is a perfect companion, whether you are quarantined or just need to uplift your mood and mind.  Here’s is some of what BookLife, a magazine for bookstores and libraries, has to say:  

  • ” Vogt’s calm mentorship invokes a sense of peace and gratitude. “
  • “… [Vogt] does an excellent job making the poem, personal story and practice for each element feel cohesive and mutually relevant.”
  • “[Vogt’s] practices are easy to understand and execute while remaining original and inspiring.” 
  • “Both experienced meditators and those still learning to cultivate intentionality and presence can gain much from this paean to thoughtfulness and peace.” 
Caterpillar

Caterpillar

This moment this love comes to rest in me,
many beings in one being.

Rumi
Trans. by Coleman Barks

It was one of those transformative moments. As I rounded the street corner near my home, my five- and-a-half-year-old neighbor Emma greeted me with a big smile.  She held up her palm and said, “Look.”  Her younger sister Ali quickly rushed forward, one hand upward, and with delight said, “Meet Magenti.”  Teeny, hairless, caterpillars were gliding across both girls’ hands.  

Instantaneously, warm memories flooded into my mind.  I found myself marveling at how something so distant in time can be so present.  I could feel the feet of the caterpillar creeping across my arm.  Yet, that was a memory from decades ago when my older sister Gail and I would sit on the sidewalk outside our back door and wait for the caterpillars to crawl onto the warm concrete.  

We could be completely absorbed in watching their patient and quiet movement.  Even though they moved slowly, they made steady progress.  When we picked them up to place them on our limbs, they would continue advancing to fearlessly explore the foreign terrain of our skin.  

In hindsight, these insects were great life teachers.  Whether they knew it or not, they were headed to winged transformation.  Some would become moths and others magnificent butterflies, but they didn’t try to rush ahead, or bypass their caterpillar stage.  They relied on their entire being to navigate their immediate environment.   

When unchecked, caterpillars are harmful to gardens and crops.  Yet, their graceful and light presence inspired my sister and me to be gentle, peaceful, and take care not to cause them any harm.  They sparked some of our deepest feelings of attentiveness and tenderness toward another being.   I saw the same caring behaviors in my neighbors Emma and Ali as they showed me their caterpillars.  

Life’s wisdom is tucked within these small and least glamorous moments.  They have the potency to be like a flash of lightening that melts the boundaries of time and space, shape and form, age and size.  We are able to instinctively recognize that this ever-changing outer whirl of measurement and judgment is a projection of our inner architecture of desires, aversions and fears. Such moments offer a glimpse of what Rumi calls, “many beings in one being.”  

It may seem boring, or maybe even arduous, to be more attuned to small moments.  Our human minds like to be entertained and dazzled, but also disengaged and slothful.  We have an extra challenge to attune our inner antennae toward transformative qualities of lightness, steadiness, patience, and quietness.  Yet, in addition to my regular inner contemplative focus, I will endeavor to be attentive to the little moments every day.  I hope you will join me.

Practice
This practice invites sensory awareness and relaxation.

Prepare – 

·         Turn your electronic devices to airplane mode.  Remove any non-medical measuring devices, such as your watch.

·         Stretch out through the palms of your hands and arms.  Roll your wrists and ankles around. Then, find a comfortable place to sit.  For example, this could be on a cushion on the floor, or on a chair or bench. Breathe a few smooth and easy breaths.

Practice – 

·         Gently stroke one hand with the other.  Then, lightly stroke your legs, arms, and face. 

·         With awareness of being human with multiple ways of experiencing the small moments of life, lightly touch 

  • Your nose, acknowledging it is the portal of breath and smells.  Invite a quality of relaxation around your nostrils.
  • Your mouth, acknowledging it is the portal of taste, nutrition, speech, and kisses.  Invite a quality of relaxation around your mouth, and at the root of your tongue into the throat.
  • Your eyes, acknowledging they are the portals of sight – colors, shapes, and forms.  Invite a quality of relaxation around your eyes and at the back of your eyes.
  • Your skin, acknowledging it is the portal of touch.  Invite a quality of relaxation on all surfaces of your skin, especially in the palms of your hands, soles of your feet, back of your body, and your face.
  • Your ears, acknowledging they are the portals of hearing.  Invite a quality of relaxation around your ears.
  • Your head, acknowledging it is the CPU of memory, thought, and processing.  Invite a quality of relations in the center of your skull.
  • Your heart center, acknowledging it is the seat of your eternal self.  Invite a quality of relaxation around the center of your chest.

·         Invite a quality of softness and gentleness into your inhales and exhales.  If comfortable, close your eyes.  Otherwise, leave your eyes in a soft gaze.  

·         Sit quietly.  Imagine you are being breathed – the breath comes in, then goes out. 

Transition back into your day – 

·         When you are ready, return to your day.

This poem  appears in Mala of Love: 108 Luminous Poems, page 80, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  Photo by Bankim Desai.  H E A R T H is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2020.

NOW AVAILABLE! Our Inherited Wisdom: 54 Inspirations from Nature and Poetry by Kate Vogt. BookLife Review: “Both experienced meditators and those still learning to cultivate intentionality and presence can gain much from this paean to thoughtfulness and peace.” 

Full Moon

Full Moon

If God
invited you to a party and

said,

“Everyone in the ballroom tonight will

be my special
guest,”

how would you then treat them when you arrived?

Indeed, indeed!

And Hafiz knows that there is no one in

this world who is not standing upon

His jeweled dance

floor.

Hafiz

There was a long beam of light across the water.  It seemed surreal, and even prompted a thought of whether there really was such a thing as extraterrestrial visitors from other planets.  Having had a day filled with synthetic hues in signage and screens, I laughed at myself for my being surprised by one of the most lasting, universal, and natural visual experiences – the glow from a full moon projected onto the earth.  

The moon – except during its darkest phase of newness – shines on all the lands and waters of the world.  It has no favorites and illumines whatever it touches whether that is noticed, or not.  Its presence influences the movement of the ocean, which covers nearly three-fourths of the globe.  When the full moon floods the darkness with pearly iridescence, everything is at least partially revealed.

Our dear friend, the moon, rarely makes the news – unless we land on it and then celebrate that landing.  I tend to feel that is like most of the “fixtures” of our lives.  They are the underpinning of our existence, but like the foundation of our homes and buildings, we forget that they are there.  Most of us actually don’t want the bedrocks of our lives to be making the news, because that might mean that there is something amiss.

It is unfathomable that the moon would go away within any of our lifetimes, but maybe, just as a precaution, we could notice it a little more often, and offer it appreciation for being there.  Maybe that will inspire us to notice the other everyday, regular stuff that sustains us, such as the trees, earth, our bodies and senses, and our unseen layers of support. 

After all, maybe the light of the moon is the invitation to notice what the sage poet Hafiz suggests – that all the world is standing on God’s jeweled dance floor.  Perhaps we are meant to glow and beam, seeing and being light in the world.  My sense is that this begins with an appreciation of and reverence for the ordinary.

Practice

This short practice invites appreciation of the ordinary.  

Prepare – 

  • Find a comfortable place to sit where your spine can be upright.  For example, this could be on the earth or floor, or on a chair or bench.  
  • Notice the surface beneath you and the support that is offering you.  
  • Breathe.

Practice – 

  • While still seated, systematically notice your body from the tips of your toes and fingers to the crown of your head, e.g., each toe, the top/bottom of the foot, the entire foot, the ankle, 
    • With each part of the body, with sincerity, say “Thank you. I appreciate you.”
    • As you come to the parts of your face, lightly touch your nose, then your mouth, eyes, cheeks, and ears.  
      • With each of these sensory organs, say, “Thank you. I appreciate you. Through you, I appreciate the world around me.”
  • Come to standing and begin to walk around with a sense of great appreciation of the earth that supports you.  Whomever or whatever is nearby, allow yourself to find that sense of true appreciation of all that co-inhabits this world.  
    • Walk for a few minutes.
    • Note: there is no right or wrong about where you are when you are walking and noticing your surroundings.  You could be alone at home appreciating the floor, a plant, a vase, or the light streaming through the window.
  • Come back to where you were seated.  Allow your eyes to rest in a soft gaze.  And, sit and breathe with a smooth inhalation as though you were sipping in the sweetness of all life.  On your exhales, gently yield that sweetness back to the world.
  • Give yourself a hug.  And, make a silent promise to move through the rest of your day with thoughts and gestures of appreciation.

Transition back into your day – 

  • Sit quietly for a few moments.
  • When you are ready, return to your day.

This poem  is translated by Daniel Ladinsky and appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 95, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  The photo is by Lukas Robertson. HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2020.

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