May 23, 2023
Being a Clearing for the Unexpected
By Amba Gale
This Spring, one epoch of my life seems to be ending, another beginning.
That passage seems resonant with these times.
But how do I listen for the new beginnings that are coming my way?
I like to think of people as “clearings.” I know, I know, a strange word. What does that mean?
A clearing is a space for the existence of something. For example, while air is not a clearing for the purpose of a pen, paper is.
“What am I a clearing for?” is a question I often ask myself. Some people are a clearing for disempowered people around them. Some are a clearing for empowered, ALIVE, people. Some people are a clearing for a future that is more of the past. Some are a clearing for new possibilities.
Life seems richer, being the latter. And you can create that by your say-so.
You can create the clearing that you are by taking a stand, by developing a certain relationship with the world, a certain approach or perspective. You have to give up your righteousness and resentments, of course, but you do wind up having a life worth living.
The poem “Spring Approaches, Something’s Coming” showed up for me to write in late April. Since then, I have been a clearing for surprises, for the unexpected. I have been listening to the world, as it appears to me, with the ear of new possibilities.
And, guess what? The scent of new possibilities has been coming my way, and I have been enjoying following their scent, walking the paths they give me, seeing what will “bear fruit” and what will not.
This Spring, as the Magnolias turn from bud to flower to leaves, and the azaleas bloom bright pink and red on our land that rolls down to the sea, I have been noticing what has already died, and what it is now time to let go of. They say, “When one door closes, another opens.”
What is it time for you to let go of?
What is it time to bring into being?
What new and sacred deliciousness is coming my way to live into?
Spring Approaching
By Amba Gale
Gentle breeze stirs
the branches of the pine
and cottonwood today,
as the silver sun swims
in the water near our shore.
I hear the gentle movement within
as well,
as Spring comes toward me this year.
The Magnolia is budding,
beautiful in her white, pink gown, soon to be ready
to greet the day
in her full glory
and then shed that dress
for another,
donning her green
through the summer.
Spring arrives without, within.
For I can feel the gentle stirring inside as well,
as though something
is about to happen.
Something new, some surprise
coming to arrive
at my life’s doorstep
and beckon me to join.
What deliciousness is my Soul preparing for?
What new delight?
What new Spring is coming my way?
