Gudrun Mouw Posts

October

1)
I look at the month
of forgiveness—when rains
come down, when the land expands
with relief, and I forgive myself
for every complaint against heat,

though I still save dish water
for the courtyard
as a hot, dry climate
and fading sun
slowly relent.

2)
I do not forget:
The Drought Years
That Year of Fighting Bucks
Coyote Years
The Year of Fawns

That Skunk Family Year
Mountain Lion Years
Bobcat Years

and Years When I Don’t Know
What to Expect.


October 6, 2019
Gudrun Mouw (c)

A Poem

“I will not be afraid to enjoy

what is beautiful, and to believe that

as I give to the world, so the world

will give to me.”

—Unknown

I look at these Zinnias feeling grateful and heartened. In spite of a recent surge of national hatred, bigotry, cruelty and selfishness, this bouquet reminds me how important it is to keep cherishing that which affirms, that which gives generously and that which spreads goodwill and joy. I smiled when these flowers greeted me as I arrived to teach a yoga class, and I am smiling now.

September, 2019

Personal Updates The Spiritual Journey

August Lesson

“August represents pure love,” my teacher’s teacher said;
then, why does hatred pull hatred to the mark?
After two national massacres, today looks
unreal. Hardly a bloom in the courtyard under cold fog
followed by wind over brown, dead grass.

I finish reading another bad book, sip lemon water.
Two friends connect by phone; I am willing to help.
We look for ways to heal, to engage, to find once again
joy hiding among the decades.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
August 7, 2019

A Poem

Recently, I traveled to a different state and through various counties. There were places during our Northern California Central Valley road trip where we did not feel comfortable due to intense heat, heavy traffic, as well as other challenges. On the other hand, we very much loved family visits and good conversations; locations, such as Chico’s Bidwell Park and its refreshing Creek, were particularly enjoyable.

When we took the cooler, coastal drive homeward, we were uplifted by expansive views and ocean air. The final mile before our driveway seemed extra pleasant, perhaps, because of a sense of having survived another adventure. This morning, sitting at the breakfast bar, we saw our first bobcat in a long time instead of our usual deer visitors.

And today, following various trails around the property I resisted taking on unfinished projects lying around the former tack barn area, or dealing with stacks in various rooms waiting to be sorted, realizing I needed more time to readjust. A change of location, once again, has reminded me to value being present over succumbing to external and internal pressures.

Gudrun Mouw (c)

Uncategorized

MORNING DRIZZLE

Barely visible, a transparent sheet
of moisture falls
to the semi-arid earth.

Something precious stirs—
something momentous like a birth.

Summer Solstice happened;
one more spring has passed.
Morning deer have grazed and gone.

A neighbor’s cat appears on life’s screen,
then, ducks out, under our gate.
How much more is there,
to wonder and to love.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
June 20, 2019

A Poem

IF ONLY…

If only wind would
diminish; if only May would not
feel like winter.

If only humanity were
more humane. If only love
spread wings everywhere,
and rest would stay sweet.

She would be all
that she could, if only
it were June.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
May 23, 2019

A Poem