Lady Banks

I paused this morning
to smell the roses, Lady Banks
growing in garlands
of white and a pale yellow,
the latter, a shade closest to
morning sunlight.

With their delicate tendrils
languidly splayed
over a willing, yet
infirm cedar fence,
they called to me,
the way they’ve been
calling to me every morning.

Passing them on my walk,
I call back, not now, later,
much like a wayward parishioner
rushes by their pastor
on a Sunday morning
on their way to something busier
and consumingly more important
than praying.

And I wonder
who was Lady Banks
to have such an outpour
named for her?
Wife of Sir Joseph Banks
is all that is written.

A conjuring places her
perambulating her Victorian grounds,
the tiny stem of this rose twirling between
her fingertips,
thoughtful matron of her estate.
Or draped in her best expedition finery,
side-saddled over a wise pachyderm
who ambles her through the quite wild places
of India.

Nonetheless, I cup their clustered offering
into my lined hands.
closing my eyes, inhaling, allowing
the sense of smell to precede.
Breathing their fragrance is
as if to breathe the Madonna
directly into your heart.

Filling the well so generously,
so abundantly, so it may once again
shine it’s light out into the world.
Transmutation with one sip of a rose.

copyright 2015, Jennifer Brinn

Putting Down Roots

Putting Down Roots

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A few weeks ago, before the rains, I had a gardening bonanza! I never thought of myself as much of a green thumb. In fact I still don’t, but since my pre-school years, I’ve always loved seeing the first peek of green peering up from the soil and tendril upward into the world.

I’ve long graduated from Dixie cups and sunflower seeds and now have a 4×4 veggie garden patch. It’s not much, but something which fits perfectly into the sun-soaked spot just beneath our kitchen window. This year I planted two 6-packs of rainbow chard of which the jackrabbits have made their personal salad bar (note to self: chicken wire ASAP). Still standing are the zucchini, squash, japanese eggplant, jalapenos, red cabbage, dino kale and a trailblazing effort of asparagus. Every morning I go outside to coo over them like they’re all my little babies. My 9yo daughter and my cat, Pablo stare out the window at me like I’ve lost my mind.

In Ayurveda, spring is Vata (air/wind) season. It’s the Mover & Shaker of all seasons. It’s the season for birthing new ideas, meeting new people, taking action on those new year intentions. With it can come unexplained feelings of overwhelm, anxiety, irritability.That 3rd chakra, the energy center of our will and moving forward in the world, gets super activated and if we’re not careful can completely quake our foundation.

Getting grounded: Just like that little pea shoot is striving to break through the soil, it also needs to be rooted in order to survive. It’s important to practice grounding this time of year in order for us to move from a true place, rather than falling over ourselves to get to the next project. Think about that picture for a moment…we end up getting in our own way!

Being in nature, getting my hands in dirt, cultivating and nurturing seedlings into the earth, planting a stack of clay pots with jasmine, lavender, hydrangeas and herbs…this grounds me. After working in the ethereal realms of Reiki, kneeling and bringing my focus downward to soil is something my body craves.

So if you’re feeling unmoored in this early bit of spring, we can get you grounded. And be sure to back it up with getting your feet and hands on a patch of mother earth.

 

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