Dear ones,
202 is a neat number - it fits on the couch. How are you? We collect "art" you've found, or moments that you find artful. Our mailbox was delighted to see this:
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| From Susan Needleman. "Yes, very mindful. Emptiness." |
The man who gives breathing lessons helps us to consider how to
Calm the Mind. This image will help us while (trying to) meditate. So peaceful - how to not clutter your thoughts with thoughts.
Since we never sent our Mother's Day post it must still be mother's day like it is still earth day, if you're the umbilical type. For those of you that followed The Villas Goose sitting/ siting:
Well, she did it! She made hatchlings that became goslings on about last week of April. First peek, she was swimming with two youngsters, two yellow fuzzy sticks of butter swimming, learning and yearning. Mom and Dad, like the number 202, provide a neat protective wrap on either side. According to a man with two dogs wearing blue harnesses, there had been four eggs in the nest. (Art Ranger would never think of looking - that's not polite).
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| Day 3 |
Somehow though, by the next week, there was only a single gosling left. Mom and Dad appeared very nonchalant about it. They are easy-going and laissez-faire with the one who remains. The gosling doubled or at least became two-thirds larger in one week. It reminds though us of what our artist friend from the old world says: "It's not so easy dear."
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| Week 3 : Yes, they feed on toxic golf putt grasses. |
During our drive-by vigil, we learned about mother goose's brood patch which allows her to truly keep those eggs at just the right temperature.
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| We found it Most Poignant |
Yep, the goose plucks out her own breast feathers, to both make the nest softer, and to expose her bare skin so she touches the eggs, better to transfer body heat for the incubation. Keep it warm and close to the breast, we mothers try to, physically, spiritually. That really gets us, even without having the actual feathers of our dinosaur bird ancestors, we humans also have form of bare patch in our insides where we seek to secure the connection with our offsprings until they are ready to leave the nest. Even after they leave, we try to reach out to them through our brood patch of communication lines.
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| Dust, magnified 22 million times |
A reason not to worry too much about dust as it connects us to the ancient multi-verses.
It's good to review that brooding is ideally something we need to move along through to get to the next state. By sharing the broody word with the brood patch, of plucking out ones own feathers in order to become more close, we relate to the irrepressible pull of sitting in vigil on a nest while the next generation grows underneath us and your own feathers (or gray hairs) are carried off into the breezes.
Please send found art, and your favorite tree to FAF@Homelandinspiration.org.
