The Gift of an Eagle

blchapman

Late afternoon sun inspiring a drive to the water’s edge  .  The  coolness in the air nearly stopped a walk on the beach .  It was a day that could have early spring or  fall .  The light from the sun was diffused  by clouds and yet also giving a comforting warmth in the breezes .

I stopped at a bench and sat for a bit .  It was low tide though the water seemed to be coming back in . Small waves on top of small waves and the light shimmering and dancing along the water’s surface . Looking out and looking in as I sometimes call it .  Looking beyond the day’s events and freeing one’s mind .

It was just then that I noticed a bird sitting atop of a piling , exposed by low tide ,  out in the water .  Looking more intently  I reared…

View original post 67 more words

The Gift of an Eagle

Late afternoon sun inspiring a drive to the water’s edge  .  The  coolness in the air nearly stopped a walk on the beach .  It was a day that could have been early spring or  fall .  The light from the sun was diffused  by clouds and yet also giving a comforting warmth in the breezes .

I stopped at a bench and sat for a bit .  It was low tide though the water seemed to be coming back in . Small waves on top of small waves and the light shimmering and dancing along the water’s surface . Looking out and looking in as I sometimes call it .  Looking beyond the day’s events and freeing one’s mind .

It was just then that I noticed a bird sitting atop of a piling , exposed by low tide ,  out in the water .  Looking more intently  I reared that it wasn’t just any bird but rather an Eagle . I remained for a bit longer .  I began hoping that I’d get to witness his flight and just as I stood up to go this wonderful bird took flight  from his perch .

He soared with such grace and beauty .  I stood watching , taking it in , and whispering ” thank you .”

The Key

A dream  of being in box  . Vertical and tight fitting and wondering ” where is the key ? ”  Then suddenly realizing that the key is on the outside of the  box .  A few days later I , rather absentmindedly  , drew a key  . It looked like an old skeleton key and the center was shaped like a heart .

I dare to say that what lives within my heart is key to freeing  myself  from the box .

Restlessness and How to Be

What stirs in your heart ? Is it quiet when speaking or roaring with might ?  Does the notion of having a solid foundation from which to spring  from dictate your steps ?  The restlessness in my heart seems to arrive in waves .  And when I walk among trees , stopping every so often  to witness their life , I am soothed .  I may gently a palm  of my hand against a trunk pausing to quietly be with a tree .