"...the bee sisters bring me back to my core, to what is important - doing the work, whatever it is, with mindfulness and presence."
I have wanted to write about the Stillaguamish River (known affectionately as the Stilly) and the towns of Oso and Darrington. But like the tons of mud that slid down a mountain side nearly two weeks ago, words are slippery and elusive. There are so many words, so much I could say, that like that clay, they have stuck themselves together and lodged in my throat and fingers.
Rose Quartz surfaces spontaneously in my yard. The various sizes and shades of pink stone unearth at odd moments, as if pushed suddenly from the ground by forces that needed me to hear a message, delivered with solidity.
The journey to my pebbled beach is much longer than the ten footsteps the stream measures across.. The minutes stretch into hours that seem like seconds. The days pass, the calendar marked by new blossoms and ripening berries. It is only here in the dappled sunlight that I am fully at peace, the grating urgency of my city life soothed....