The sky and the waves were both the color of mussel shells...pashmina fog and salted raindrops cover the maine coastline as morning finds its way. Beachcombers wrap hands round coffee cups and measure their footsteps. It was a morning for warm doughnuts and destination-be-damned drives and for slowing down to watch birds dance on the seawall; to watch fisherman casting lines, zen like and aimless, with ballerina grace. Beach roses and sea trumpet bloom windswept. Worth waking up for....

sending peace.

Good morning!

After much work and collaboration with my brilliant web designer, Ally Piper of Brighteyes Creative, I am pleased to be introducing my website. It feels a bit like my first art exhibit; offering one's work is a bit daunting and creates a sense of vulnerability. Just exhale and trust, right?

I am hopeful that it will become a place of resource and shared experiences for those who visit me there.

Lots of stuff in my head to share...(way too much for one blogpost!)

June yoga has begun and our classes continue to be filled with wise and willing students. This month we begin out sun salutation series and it has already brought insight and perspective to our class. I fall in love with yoga again each time we "make it work" and challenge ourselves.

I'll be attending the NH Women's Leadership Summit on june 11. It's theme is "Giving Voice to Vision" which encourages the collective power of community. Maybe I'll see you there?

Just returned from a weekend in NYC and had the chance to visit the NY Photography Museum for the first time. Nice space. Exhibitions, all three, were varied and contemplative. The Civil Rights series was breathtaking, inspiring and brilliant. Commands us to step outside of our own story and witness. Worth viewing more than once, I'm certain. My response to other two exhibitions was quite different...the subjects of both series seemed disrespected and exploited and had what appeared to be no voice in their image. I was left with outrage and sadness after viewing...perhaps that was the mission of both photographers.

Summer books...I have just finished South of Broad, Deliverance Dane and two of the Steig Larson series. All quite different and all good reads.

Next art show is in progress and we are looking to early september to show new images. Details as they unfold.

Last thought....the morning walk past the pond round the corner is mostly quiet but for an occasional red-winged blackbird or early morning turtle. Today, amidst the wisps of fog that remained we had a chance to watch six newborn duckings trail their mother as she made her way through the water weeds and reeds. Their yellow downy tufts made them comically endearing as they followed her soundless instruction.

sending peace.

after the storm

Sap buckets appeared on Perkins Road this morning...mere days after the wrath of february's windstorm battered trees and patience. The storm made war zones of backyard swingsets and felled mighty pines during the howling night.

Bent and dented, the buckets collect drops of springtime hope. Clear sap that will turn amber and sugary awaits. Snow melt hastens and crocuses dare to blink from frozen flowerbeds. Last gasp of winter? Maple trees offering to sweeten our season..counting out the in- between where winter relinquishes its hold and spring begins, drip by drip and drop by drop.

sending peace.

I am constantly enamored by the rituals of "beginnings and endings" celebrated in cultures around the world; Chinese New Year celebrations that send glowing lanterns upward, a multitude of kites flown skyward in India and the discovery of tiny charms tucked inside Mardi Gras cakes sugared violet, gold and green.

New yoga classes begin in march and I look forward to the possibility of offering breathwork/yoga to oncology patients this spring. Daffodils and downward dog pose? Sounds like a good way to harken springtime.

One of the patients who we have worked with shared with me her tools for staying positive and strong while on her cancer journey. She relaxes into a visual of herself canoeing on a pristine lake in northern NH. She controls the speed and direction of her canoe and moves forward gently, peacefully and with purpose as the calm fills her. Quiet stillness envelopes her and she can hear her own breath and heartbeat.

I will have the opportunity to conference with the Fox Chase Cancer Center's planning board next week in an effort to develop their Women's Cancer Center's Resource project as it relates to integrative and complementary therapies. Patients and their families there will be able to access many avenues of care to promote wellness and ease the cancer journey. Now that's a new beginning worth celebrating!! Someone lend me a kite.

sending peace.

And she left amidst birdsong...the last few days in hospice house my client was lullabyed by the songbirds who "sang her home". Early on, during our Reiki sessions we talked of how she found comfort in having the birdfeeder deck built lovingly by her husband nearby her bed. She was extraordinarily present in her journey; her spirit in perfect alignment with each step.

Cardinals, woodpeckers with bright red feathers, bossy bluejays and tiny sparrows all lined up daily to show her how it feels to let go and fly. She watched, really watched and listened to their wise song.

And fly she did...gifting those who knew her with smiling eyes, with wisdom, with her agenda for a brilliant life and finally with her heartlight. I have deep gratitude for knowing her, for allowing me to witness and walk this journey with her and mostly for offering me a chance to hold the space as she unfurled her wings.

Reiki in hospice offers a space and a place for graceful transformation at the end of life. It allows for that honest internal dialogue to be heard in the gentlest way.

She and I, we chose to say "till we meet again" instead of goodbye.

I wait with an open heart.

sending peace.

copyright constance price/compass rose healing arts

White birch has become my favorite tree, especially in winter. A family of three trees stand together at the edge of the wood and nod as I walk by. Fog at the base of their trunks after the recent rainstorm swirls and settles with an evening exhale. Bark shreds and peels back in the wind creating horizontal patterns and uneven surface, exposing grey braille underneath, winter white fabric and at dusk, a faint pink hue; new skin under wrinkled layers. These birch are the local home for our resident golden hawk who chases and scatters blue jay and sparrow with the whoosh of a wing. On occasion, it provides a perch for the silver white owl whose stewardship is ever present. Branches shift and drop as bitter winds howl, bending 'neath the weight of heavy midnight snow and then rebounding in the noon sunshine.

Strong. Flexible. Both yielding and unyielding. Dancing with the rhythm of the season.

sending peace.

january thaw

A trinity of events came together seamlessly yesterday as the day unfolded...the Wolf Moon moving toward fullness, a powerful solar eclipse that transformed the sun and moon for several moments and, here in NH, the warm and wistful arrival of the january thaw. As I drove by the river, I could see it coming in; the water a lighter shade of blue-grey and the river energized without the icy remnants that pull at its shoreline. People seemed to smile more easily, drop their shoulders and breathe in the warmer air. Neighborhoods teemed with walkers and their dogs, foregoing hibernation and wool mittens to draw in the sun. It was a day to be present, really present, with no looking back at last week's frigid wind or forward to the next storms' snowplow song. It was a day to just "be" in the hopeful feeling of mid winter sunshine and warmth. At close of day the sky filled with scarlet pink...the last wink of sunlight washed in rose petal silk and lavender clouds.

sending peace.