As I write this, a moose has been bedded down outside our kitchen deck for a few hours this morning. Her eyes closed slightly, amazing, thick velvet ears telescoping at the sounds heard from our house—the dogs (always), doors closing, feet upstairs crossing the room loudly. I never tire of seeing them, of the still surprise as they appear in this suburban neighborhood, walk into the yard, move on behind the house into the small greenspace that opens out eventually to the coastal flats. As it settled down and tentatively began to close her eyes, her breath huffed softly on exhale—wind that moves in and out of all of our bodies—made visible in the cold.
"As it settled down and tentatively began to close her eyes, her breath huffed softly on exhale—wind that moves in and out of all of our bodies—made visible in the cold. " - simply lyrical. This is such a pure joy and the pleasure of reading and cherishing the softness in this sentence made me it a treat for ears. Loved your words.
I love this so much Freya. It all really speaks to me - the breath, the collective breath, growth, the melting. So beautiful.
And the moose!!! I just can't even imagine what that must be like to have a moose outside your kitchen window! What a treat. Obviously we don't have moose in NZ! 😊
I never tire of seeing the moose when they come to visit. We've had more as the seasons turn and there are green leaves for them to eat (which must be such a relief after winter months of twigs--I don't know how they do it!), and it always feels like a quiet company waiting to be noticed. Thanks so much for your kind words and for reading. 💜
“That it is being that speaks within us and not we who speak of being.“
Beautiful piece. This will stay with me.
On my hill, it’s the stillness, when everything is left to itself, not winded, that I love. Birdsong, the sight of new growth on the tips of redwoods and oaks, fog rising. A beautiful stillness.
Thank you for sharing this. So much beautiful writing and so many threads that I want to follow after reading this, especially the old English "blæd", it's always so fascinating finding these connections in our language that reveal so much about how we've historically perceived the world
I love those connections in words too--there is so much to learn from the roots of language, words--it's all there, seeded with wisdom for us but we rarely can be slowed down enough to notice it. 💜
Beautiful writing. We are pure breath, pure spirit. We hold our breath when stressed or frightened. When we are relaxed, at peace, our breathing slows and flows.
So lovely and thoughtful, as your posts always are, Freya. I haven’t seen my breath much since I left the North at 30. Whenever I do, it is a thrill to see, the invisible made visible.
Thank you so much Anne. I admit I always get a little thrill when the season has turned cold enough to first see our breath visible again. Perhaps in Scotland you'll have more times in the cooler temps. ;)
Freya what beauty you have woven through your words in this classic meditation on breath and association with being. Breath is truly the essence of life- the root, the blossoming , the being. Sanskrit for breath is ‘prana’ which translates to life force that permeates through everything in this universe - even rocks, mountains, and every blade of grass. I truly love all the beauty of your surroundings. Thank you for sharing these pictures too!
I love the moose and how she is peacefully just taking all the mutations of sounds in relaxing on the snow. Perhaps the only goal of life is to exist and observe 💜
Dear one, thank you so much. I love the Sanskrit word for breath being something that permeates through everything. I feel that so much--perhaps the only goal is to exist and observe. 💜🧚🏼
It's such a great practice--I don't always keep to it, but I keep trying. Chris LaTray's beautiful book, One-sentence Journal, is a gem--very much worth the read and returning to: https://bookshop.org/a/56269/9781732496804
I used to see a lot of moose in the Maine woods, which were "all mossy and moosey," said HDT. One time I was off trail and followed some tracks in a few inches of snow. They went up a rocky pinnacle, like a huge haystack. No soil up there, just rocks and some spindly stunted spruce. There was nothing up there of use to a moose I could see. I didn't see her, but I got the impression the moose had gone up for the fun of it. To check out the view, explore a bit. Ever since, I've thought they have a whimsical side, maybe a sense of humor. I live in Washington now, and miss the moose of the Maine woods.
I love thinking of the moose climbing that slope for the fun of it. They do have a whimsical air about them--I never tire of seeing them, they seem a bit otherworldly too, in their size, those impossibly furry ears, their quiet. 💜
"As it settled down and tentatively began to close her eyes, her breath huffed softly on exhale—wind that moves in and out of all of our bodies—made visible in the cold. " - simply lyrical. This is such a pure joy and the pleasure of reading and cherishing the softness in this sentence made me it a treat for ears. Loved your words.
This is gorgeous--deep breath after deep breath. Thank you.
💜🙏
I love this so much Freya. It all really speaks to me - the breath, the collective breath, growth, the melting. So beautiful.
And the moose!!! I just can't even imagine what that must be like to have a moose outside your kitchen window! What a treat. Obviously we don't have moose in NZ! 😊
I never tire of seeing the moose when they come to visit. We've had more as the seasons turn and there are green leaves for them to eat (which must be such a relief after winter months of twigs--I don't know how they do it!), and it always feels like a quiet company waiting to be noticed. Thanks so much for your kind words and for reading. 💜
“That it is being that speaks within us and not we who speak of being.“
Beautiful piece. This will stay with me.
On my hill, it’s the stillness, when everything is left to itself, not winded, that I love. Birdsong, the sight of new growth on the tips of redwoods and oaks, fog rising. A beautiful stillness.
Thank you so much Susan. And I love that beautiful stillness you describe--gorgeous. 💜
Thank you for sharing this. So much beautiful writing and so many threads that I want to follow after reading this, especially the old English "blæd", it's always so fascinating finding these connections in our language that reveal so much about how we've historically perceived the world
I love those connections in words too--there is so much to learn from the roots of language, words--it's all there, seeded with wisdom for us but we rarely can be slowed down enough to notice it. 💜
loved the last paragraph 💜🤍
💜🧚🏼
Beautiful writing. We are pure breath, pure spirit. We hold our breath when stressed or frightened. When we are relaxed, at peace, our breathing slows and flows.
Thank you Trudi. 💜
So lovely and thoughtful, as your posts always are, Freya. I haven’t seen my breath much since I left the North at 30. Whenever I do, it is a thrill to see, the invisible made visible.
Thank you so much Anne. I admit I always get a little thrill when the season has turned cold enough to first see our breath visible again. Perhaps in Scotland you'll have more times in the cooler temps. ;)
Freya what beauty you have woven through your words in this classic meditation on breath and association with being. Breath is truly the essence of life- the root, the blossoming , the being. Sanskrit for breath is ‘prana’ which translates to life force that permeates through everything in this universe - even rocks, mountains, and every blade of grass. I truly love all the beauty of your surroundings. Thank you for sharing these pictures too!
I love the moose and how she is peacefully just taking all the mutations of sounds in relaxing on the snow. Perhaps the only goal of life is to exist and observe 💜
Dear one, thank you so much. I love the Sanskrit word for breath being something that permeates through everything. I feel that so much--perhaps the only goal is to exist and observe. 💜🧚🏼
Lovely, Freya. I shall have to take a look at your archive to see what other treasures are hidden there.
Thank you John. 💜
Gorgeous, Freya. I can hardly imagine more wondrous breakfast companion. Thank you for sharing her and your beautiful words.
Thank you so much Holly. 💜
this one sentence a day into a poem or haiku morning inspired by spirits forgoing aspire . grace in the thou '.
It's such a great practice--I don't always keep to it, but I keep trying. Chris LaTray's beautiful book, One-sentence Journal, is a gem--very much worth the read and returning to: https://bookshop.org/a/56269/9781732496804
This is glorious- thank you so much.
Thank you so much for reading! 💜
I used to see a lot of moose in the Maine woods, which were "all mossy and moosey," said HDT. One time I was off trail and followed some tracks in a few inches of snow. They went up a rocky pinnacle, like a huge haystack. No soil up there, just rocks and some spindly stunted spruce. There was nothing up there of use to a moose I could see. I didn't see her, but I got the impression the moose had gone up for the fun of it. To check out the view, explore a bit. Ever since, I've thought they have a whimsical side, maybe a sense of humor. I live in Washington now, and miss the moose of the Maine woods.
I love thinking of the moose climbing that slope for the fun of it. They do have a whimsical air about them--I never tire of seeing them, they seem a bit otherworldly too, in their size, those impossibly furry ears, their quiet. 💜
Enjoyed 💨
💜🙏
It is delightful to think that we are also made of wind, and with us, that beautiful moose.
I completely agree. 💜