The Frog

Michael just took out the Medicine Cards and as he was shuffling the deck I said, “Frog!”, because I just had that dream about frog and amphibians yesterday. (http://lastnightidreamed-whitelightone.blogspot.com/) Lo and behold, does he not pulled the Frog card out of the deck of 54 cards! So Frog is for both of us then... dropping Frog into my body... Frog doesn’t have anything to tell me, but my body does...

The memory of the tiny pond outside the Algonquin Art Centre drifted into my mind, a beautiful summer morning still too early for most visitors to be out playing tourist... There was a little wooden arrow-shaped sign with the word “Frog” just at the spot where you would turn and see the pond, and I said to Michael, “Do you think there is any frog?”, because it seemed unlikely a tiny body of water the size of a barrel, in the middle of a landscaped ‘yard’ would attract, much less support, living creatures with sufficient mobility to go somewhere else. We went up to the little pool then, lushly planted with tall grasses, reeds, ground-covers, and flowers in their season. Rocks and flagstones held the space together like a showcase for the jewelled centrepiece, and I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in close to the water, because there was a little frog perched on the edge of it, perfectly still. I got half way through saying “I think it’s fake...” when it hopped up and away into its mini habitat and swam off. We laughed then, in surprise and delight.

I am smiling now, as I feel again the bright, clear joy of that weekend, in the famous north country of Algonquin Park. Everything and everyone was so simple, straight-forward and serene – Michael, me, the innkeepers, fellow hikers, the doe that strolled across the highway, the walking stick someone left by the entrance to a trail, our new diet and cleanse, and most vivid in my memory, the golden cast to the air that seemed to gild everything with a warm liquid glow, even sound; and I felt, of all things for a city girl born and raised, safe, in the sheltering canopy of the trees old and new; and so magnanimously loved, by Nature, whom I’ve scarcely known, until that moment.

Thank you, Frog, for the gift of ‘rest and recreation’, as we ride this wave to the next crest of transformation that I cannot see but can only sense, is imminent. I will take you along, in the pocket of my memory, for the luck that I am told you bring, and the adaptability we will need in rebirth and renewal.
___________

When I am quiet
the whole world flows in like honey
from the outside towards the centre
sound and air
breath and molecule
skin and touch
glazed by the contented glow

my head is annointed in liquid lucent gold
my shoulders drop under its mantle of warmth
my respiration slows
as if I have gills that are gently
bellowing under water the colour
of amber
backlit

everything is slow
serene
simple
satisfied
when I am quiet.