Michele George Resounding

Home Is Where The Heart Beats

2010-08-20T19:05:00.000-07:00

Today is the beginning of all that is new. For me. In an old-fashioned sense of becoming literate. In the technical way of tapping the keys and I don't mean shoes in a unique way of dancing, such as a rhythm with my feet that opened the door to my computer...of pointing to a site, and it's not my finger in the Swiss Alps pointing to the Matterhorn just before dawn. The time I was there I was in the shadow of the Matterhorn just before dawn, and life was surely complicated, but the definitions seemed closer to home. I could look someone in the eye and point my finger at him. Not his hologram. But we might now Skype today and it'd be called intimate.
I could tell you some stories! And I will!!!
Stay with me, and the stories will take me to the stage where I will tell you tales of a life so well lived it will snap the buttons off your shirt.
Hope you have buttons, they're so much more...I dunno...something that I cherish.
Memories of one button at a time...the tempo so slow, and the rhythm can move as it will since it didn't start so damn fast in the beginning that that there's no place to go but...
I trust you, my friends.
Tempo, let go. Down and look around.
Find the voice of your vibrating self and hear it, my beloveds...hear the beauty and the call, and answer the return, because it's always there.
How I love you as I ReSound with your becoming!

Wondering

2009-11-14T08:59:00.000-08:00

I can walk on the shore and I can see the ducks go by, but that was well after this moment was caught. Funny, a moment in time that allows the next moment to be present in my heart. It was my son's birthday...some years ago....we were in a place of special beauty in Toronto, you have to know you're going there or you'll never get there....except by those surprises that do come to us and lead us to a new place and a place for celebration. We sat in silence in the gray density of that pre-dawn quiver...and the sun did come and the ducks swam by, a family led by mum.

We had breakfast...hard-boiled eggs and crackers and interesting bread made by the friend who had shown us the way to the wonderful place.

We are taken to places where, if we pay attention, and are willing to wait, we can see throught the rising fog of night that burns its way into the motes of watery drops transformed so the daylight can give us the right to put one foot in front of the other without so much of an effort, with the joy of the changes that are so profound that we need the change of night to day to remember that this is a moment that reminds us of a doorway...always there...always willing to allow us to enter. Why do I forget to step across the threshold? And this time of day. So much oxygen! I am allowed to breathe the joys of life without even being aware. I can be healed by this profundity.

Now what if I were? Aware.....would my breathing change, or would I simply rejoice.....I wonder.

Doubt Is A Funny Thing

2009-11-11T15:28:00.000-08:00

I don't know....what is it about me? Could it be the way I...Naw, there's no possible way to open the door, the hinges are too rusty...
Fed up...not full...fed up...still with a burning hunger...not heartburn, perhaps a burning heart.
Up to here.
Here! Joke. Where I am digging a well.
That's here.
Where I am smelling the rose that was given as a gift.
That's here.
But I doubt it's a wayward tale.
It smells like a rose. No doubt about it.
I remember the sound of the rose.
That's me, going mmmmmmmm.....
When did youlast smell the roses?
I'm going to find some water...it needs my help to keep on being itself for a while longer.

Today's about learning

2009-10-05T07:19:00.000-07:00

All I can do is try. And how do I best do that in this particular situation? I ask! For help!
From someone who knows better than I.
Now, I know better than others in certain, shall we say, tributaries of the Great River. And they who wish to paddle their kayaks up my small outreach, they ask for my help. And I offer what is granted me to give.
All is right with the world. We are here to serve. And it's a mighty river, with all the answers somewhere, but my, a mighty tribute of tributaries. Isn't that what you call them? Like a gaggle of geese? A tribute of tributaries....