Journal, Misc, Nature


#writealm Day 4. ūüôā

Singing tree

This is my neighbor’s magical, singing tree. It harmonizes with the wind blowing through its soft needles, and it sings to me of somewhere far from our high desert home in the southwest; somewhere it has never been, but the wind has. It’s song is the song of the sea, evoking in me memories of beaches on the cold north Atlantic…memories of…

r GFDL (], via Wikimedia Commons

…waves lapping at the sand, moving up the shore in response to the pull of the moon, water so cold that you have to dunk yourself and stay submerged from the neck down until your body is numb and then you can swim for hours, sand so hot you wished you’d tied flip-flops to your bathing suit because it’s not possible to run fast enough or tip-toe lightly enough to escape it’s burning touch…


The beach, a rainbow of bathing suits, towels, umbrellas, chairs, ice chests (they call them cool chests here in the sw), and radios, all tuned to different stations. Some are rudely blaring, others are just loud enough for the immediate listeners. The smell of hot dogs bought from the vendor on the street above, seagulls circling while on the lookout for abandoned or dropped food, children shouting with joy and laughter – or crying from sheer exhaustion, parents calling out in warning to be careful, and the lifeguard’s whistle jolting us out of our sun-drenched stupor.

The sun, oh the sun…soaking into us, tanning – or burning – our skin as it passes through, melting our bones into such sweet lethargy, filling us with heat so strong that we fear we will melt into the sand, or, heaven forbid, spontaneously combust.

And underneath it all, this magical, wonderful tree sings to me the song that is just at the edge of my¬†hearing at all times even though I now live so far from its source; it’s the deep lullaby of Mama Yemaya. Mother Ocean, in all her glory, calls to me, beckoning me home,¬†soothing¬†me¬†with her message of peace, compassion…and love.


©Pip Miller РNovember 2014



Wow, I can’t believe I haven’t posted since September! ¬†So much has changed, and I’ve needed the time to get used to it.

Biggest change is that I have a “real” job now! ¬†Full-time, great pay, great people, close to home. ¬†On the other hand, my time for doing healing work has lessened greatly and I must admit, I miss it terribly. ¬†I also miss being home, believe it or not! ¬†Today the ravens are finally back in full force in the neighborhood, and I just want to sit outside, sent light, and watch them dance in the sky. ¬†Instead, I’m off to work soon.

Talk about a lesson in gratitude, eh? ūüôā

BTW, the tree that the ravens & crows used to perch in (as well as the hummingbirds) is gone. ūüė¶ ¬†It was dead and every time the wind blew, branches were falling off. ¬†I cried when they cut it down because I knew it meant a change in the birds’ patterns and I was worried about where they would land now and if I could still watch them. The ravens & crows have chosen my other neighbor’s tree, which I love, but it’s much harder to see them. ¬†Still they are there and I love it. ¬†Aside…a ‘murder’ of crows *really* should be renamed a ‘cacophony’ of crows. *L*

©Pip Miller

This job has me immersed in a way of life that is of a culture not mine, and part of me is ready to just sink in, but there is a bigger part of me telling me it’s not the right path for me…most especially the nutrition aspect of it. ¬†So right now I am navigating the waters of my soul, picking my way through all that I have access to and feeling my way along to what nourishes me. ¬†Nourish. ¬†That was my word for this year, and it honestly never became much of a focus until recently. ¬†I think I may keep it for my word next year, too. ¬†Suddenly it means so much to me, in ways I can’t begin to describe or even coherently put my finger on.

Am I making any sense? ¬†I’m listening to the birds, watching the clock, trying to decide what to wear today (my least favorite part of having a job), and putting my thoughts into word here. ¬†I have a feeling I’m multi-tasking a bit too much. ūüėČ

©Pip Miller РNovember 2013