Month: May 2023

Sometimes I travel so deep
within winter’s quiet counsel
that I lose my language.
My mind detaches and lifts
and I float through days
and weeks, perhaps
the month of February,
sensing rhythms beyond
and traveling a path towards
the secret place of winter wisdom
not yet enfleshed by words.

When spring arrives
I begin to float closer
to the ground, and walk
into the world with clearing
perception, gradual, mute,
till I meet (I always do)
a certain April morning
and sense the movement
of stones rolled away. An opening.
Still reaching for language
(my eloquent summer speech a distant
possibility), I know I’m about to be born
into words again.

It happens like this:
I’m walking down the trail at dawn
and everything changes in a moment–
the haze of winter dissipates; winter’s
chrysalis shatters, sunlight flashes, strobing
through branches, signaling epiphanies,
colors inbreak, sounds pulse: birdsong,
peepers, buzzes and hums; the early breeze
teases forth perfumes of lilacs,
cherry blossoms, the soil’s geosmin,
that seize and ride my inbreath,
shaking loose the memory of language
amidst eruptions of buds and blooms,
and suddenly
the scarlet streak of cardinals, followed
by a rise of bluest jays, and brilliant planets
of dandelions spangling at my feet;
I stop, paused in the roaring river of spring
to balance, to breathe,
to exit my dreams and merge with
all this life.

Questions chirp through
my waking mind.
“And that?” I ask, “What is that?”
“That is green.”
“And that?”
“That is light.”
“And that?”
“That is the song of a bird,
of life, coming back to itself again.”

I listen to the music of spring; it calls:
“Here-now, here-now, here-now.”

I find my words.
And out to the garden I go,
with newborn sounds, the language
of butterflies, to speak of my winter journey,
among the robins and daffodils.

© Copyright of all visual and written materials on The Daily Round belongs solely to Catherine M. O’Meara, 2011-Present. Unauthorized use is strictly prohibited, without the author’s written approval. No one is authorized to use Catherine O’Meara’s copyrighted material for material gain without the author’s engagement and written permission. All other visual, written, and linked materials are credited to their authors. Thank you, and gentle peace.

Of late, our old cat, Fiona, is waking and calling in the night. We quickly learned that she is best soothed and comforted ro calmness by our companionship, a welcoming lap, loving pats, and a small, handheld dish of water she can sip from contentedly. 

The vet has ruled out all physical ailments, but she is 14, and early dementia or vision problems may be involved. So, we take turns getting up at about 3:00 A.M. to sit with her.

Retirement is grand for this, at least for me, because the parameters of time so easily and increasingly fall away. Sleep time, waking time, doing and resting time require no schedule, clocks, or rigid assignment, but only the need to attend to what’s before us as we wish or are called. 

I’ve always been an early to bed and an early-rising soul, but 3 AM is a new and magical time for me to breathe awake with the world. Pondering takes different paths, and there’s a deep candlelit quality of peace absent in other hours; it’s softened and spiritually liminal.

Fiona and I sit together in a muted stillness of mutual prayer, and gently allow the time of darkness to flow into the new morning’s light. And then, ever so gradually, we are bathed in a blessing of sunrise. 

And, if I feel some weariness as the pups bark their way into the day, and Fiona flees to her lower level queendom, I also feel incredibly grateful for those quiet hours of holy solitude we’ve shared together and the deep lessons Fiona is teaching me about surrender, the wisdom communicated through silence, witnessing the beauty of the Earth’s rhythms, and the profound gifts of sustained and gentle presence.

Gentle Peace.

A reminder from my publisher that I humbly share: I am sooooo grateful for the kindness of my dear ones and sweet strangers who have purchased my books. And I know many people do not purchase from Amazon for many reasons, and completely understand. I prefer local booksellers, but I also have a Kindle. 

But preferences aside, Amazon wields unbelievable power regarding book sales to foreign publishers, book sales to stores, and whether a book sinks or swims at all in its availability to the public. 

Beautiful books that could change lives and keep a child’s imagination full of magic die in remainder bins every week, and it breaks my heart to think of all the effort and gift that went into creating them. Authors and publishers are beholden to anyone who can leave a short positive review on Amazon and Goodreads. Truly. 

I’m proud of the many creatives who contributed their gifts to “And The People Stayed Home,” and “The Rare, Tiny Flower.” Good reviews help keep us all employed producing the kinds of books we feel are important in the world, so if you purchased one from Amazon and are able to leave a review, thank you so very much. 

If you purchased a book and cannot leave a review, thank you so very much, too. And if you didn’t purchase a book, thank you for visiting my blog and supporting my writing. 

© Copyright of all visual and written materials on The Daily Round belongs solely to Catherine M. O’Meara, 2011-Present. Unauthorized use is strictly prohibited, without the author’s written approval. No one is authorized to use Catherine O’Meara’s copyrighted material for material gain without the author’s engagement and written permission. All other visual, written, and linked materials are credited to their authors. Thank you, and gentle peace.