Author: <span class="vcard">Gudrun</span>

The pen feels awkward in my hand. I see that the last journal entry was written on Jan. 1. Whereas, the last computer generated “Note” was typed on Jan 23. Is this a trend?

As a writer, creating letters, words and sentences on paper is a different process than striking the keyboard. The kinetic sensation of writing goes beyond subject matter. How I’m holding my pen, or pencil, how different pressures affect what shows up on the page, the immediate and visible presence of ongoing corrections, additions, deletions, even the color of ink used; many such factors impact the writing experience.

In spite of a perfectly sized journal, hard covered, easily mobile, conveniently lined, glaring back at me is something that often seems uncomfortably messy. The computer, on the other hand, efficiently hides the less tidy aspects of the writing process. Still, I remind myself; each approach provides a unique value.

Journal Entry The Process of Writing

The Get Well Bouquet

is beautifully arranged, as I am not….
May I be free of unhelpful ideas.
May I appreciate beauty as it opens,
passes and fades before my eyes.

What am I getting well from?
What am I moving toward? January sunlight
there on our California hillside
is not as warm as it looks; yet,

I’d like to fling myself on tender grass
turning green after rains, which sadly elsewhere
created destruction….Still, this sweet bouquet
makes a fragrant and silent plea.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
January 22, 2018

A Poem

There doesn’t seem to be one definitive answer of how to move through difficult times, such as the misfortunes of 2017. Perhaps, the best approach is to handle one one situation at a time, one step at a time.

For example, we were hit hard by flu this year. Once the worst was over, as part of my recovery work, I began walking again, seeking sun. There was an oblong of light between the forest and garden which beckoned; I followed. One way, I walked through December wind. The other way facing sun, words floated into view, but I did not catch, or try to hold them. This went on for almost an hour, and the sun overhead gave just enough heat to warm through three layers.

And so a moment of peace was gained. Time to slow down. Even a cup of tea is more enjoyable inside the safety of a mind at rest and open to potential.

Gudrun Mouw (c) aka Krishnaprema Jyothi

Personal Updates

I sometimes forget that transformation is a creative process which often moves in surprising directions. How we interpret life’s circumstances can either overwhelm or enhance the flow of creativity.

To honor the truth and to transform suffering into life affirming behavior, is a natural, creative path. Nevertheless, the process of moving from suffering to transformation can seem mysterious, even impossible at times.

Today, winter light pulled me outside, reluctantly at first. Following the outline of long forest shadows to the garden fence, I found myself inside an oblong of December sunlight, more precious because its warmth is subtle. Repeated circumambulation became a walking meditation, beyond the pain of suffering faces, the pain of loss. Light became a vehicle for transformation.

That night I dreamed I was learning how to play the violin, meaning I thought, a creative need was calling out to me. I got up to meditate. Afterwards, I turned on the Tranquility Music Channel and practiced Hatha Yoga asanas, beginning with a traditional sequence but soon continuing with positions that occurred intuitively and spontaneously.

Insight at last; I thanked powers beyond my comprehension for assistance I had not even known to ask for on this anniversary of my mother’s death seventeen years ago.

 

December 7, 2017

Gudrun Mouw aka Krishnaprema Jyothi (c)

Journal Entry Personal Updates

I see you standing on sand,
during one of our desert trips,
among tiny spring blooms and shrubs,
wearing your inevitable hat,
a long, thick braid hanging down your well-matched

shirt and belted pants. I have lit candle after candle
since you passed, holding my photo of you,
sending you wishes on this unexpected journey,
which you had not anticipated when last we talked

only a few days ago. I was happy you remembered
our friendship, despite the winter threats
of which you accused yourself. May you be free.
May you have ease beyond that beyond
about which we so often wondered.

 

 

Gudrun Mouw (c)

A Poem

I was intrigued by the article, The Historic Road That Never Was in the fall News from Native California magazine. It initially piqued my interest, because of where I live. There is a monument along a mission dirt trail nearby claiming to be a portion of the old mission days, “Historic Road of the El Camino Real.”

Mission time accounts say there was no marked “Camino Real” road (Spanish for ‘royal road’) on any early, historical map that connected the currently popularized, commercialized and much visited 21 California missions. There was only a trail that connected a few points.

There were numerous cultural, deflecting, romanticizing and, thereby, capitalizing reasons for the El Camino Real myth to arise, according to several of the early writers. This article was an eye opener for me, and I was very moved by a comment made by Marcus Lopez, “Let’s celebrate Indigenous peoples by telling the truth….”

 

October 31, 1017
Gudrun Mouw (c)

Personal Updates