and so it goes
My life is not tied up
in pretty blue bows
not many straight lines appear
on my map to this place
where I find myself today
I’ve chosen to go off grid
well maybe the truth is…
I found myself off grid
and after a while I realized it was the gift!
So I began making difficult, but purpose-filled choices,
again and again to stay there
I’ve skated thin ice and jumped with no net
over and over despite my own stable-craving nature
these tough years teaching me so much
in solitary silence
I’ve learned that somehow the ground always holds my weight
the universe conspiring to help me
and so, I live mostly on the edges
where adventure steals
all the comforts of an easy chair existence
where there is no sinking into the clouded cover of ‘safety’
when risking it all in the danger zone of unconditional loving
takes everything you have
a complex living
of big picture purpose
of loving the world enough to sacrifice pride
to stay small and humble
does anything I do matter?
sometimes Im not sure
But, all I know for sure is…
If anything does –
then everything does!
and so I must
and so it goes
💞
Amy Lloyd
https://www.facebook.com/nortner/posts/813317832191593
I met a new friend today who is absolutely WAY out there…
which means we will become forever friends,
as she needs me and I need her…her name is Maxy!
She doesn’t know how to bow yet…
but does a curtsey as she enters the wooden gates to the cottage.
She enters the front door with a bit of hesitation,
then brings forth her entire body into great expression
as she begins to view the colors on the walls…
two shades of green…
and the delicious soul that breathes into the spaces…
she smiles, tips her head, gestures towards the singing bowl,
the tiny blue Hindu elephant on the counter near the photos,
she wraps her arms around her chest and peers into the coral bedroom, peeking around the corner of the French doors,
where she sees the altar on the long blue wooden dresser and the suitcases stacked with a wooden tray as the nightstand near the bed. Vases of flowers, she smells them.
She asks me intimate, personal questions,
as we’ve just met , yet known each other forever…
she wants to know how it all came to be,
why in this lifetime could I appear?
She narrows her lips and rubs a finger across her cheek
while I share God in the mystery, the mystical, the crazy opening of portals in morning and evening hours,
perhaps the deli line,
or when I walk my dog past the little wooden library stall
that my neighbor keeps full ,in her front yard, near the mailbox… and I stop to look in for the titles and authors and Sylvia comes out in her bathrobe and Christmas slippers.
She wants to know how God can live so easily in the Midwest, on the coasts, in the heat of the south and the countries and continents that we barely know.
Maxy has a few muses of her own…and every archetype
that mentions abundance and creativity…
She met me because I wrote a book and she wanted to see the little yellow cottage…
She sat with me for two hours…and when she left another inch of snow was covering the top of my car,
the cobblestones to the gate were no where to be seen,
but I knew Maxy was a piece of the God art for the day
and Mayberry Street would never be the same to me after entertaining someone who saw through and into the heart
of ” Finding God on Mayberry Street.”
Beauty,
Donna Knutson
life: acoustic & amplified 