Image of the Eyjafjallajokul Volcano © Lucas Jackson

By now, these images are all over the world, have been seen by millions, and are recognizable as a shot of lightning frozen in the massive ash cloud of Eyjafjallajökull and the relationship between a human and his horse.

I first saw the most impressive photos of the volcano at boston.com, and of those, the two that really got to me — in my gut — were these photos by Lucas Jackson and Ingolfur Juliusson, below.

In my work teaching life skills at Florence Crittenton’s Center for Pregnant and Parenting Teens, I have weekly one-on-one time with each teen mom. We work on life skills such as nutrition, communication, self-care and employment. Emotions play a part in the development of almost any life skill. Many of our clients have good reason to have the kind of anger that feels like this volcano. It’s terrifying to anticipate that if one let’s loose with the feelings inside, this is what might happen. The sparks, the darkness, the lethal flashes of electricity, the clouds of toxic ash … the way it affects everything in a around it, including the weather for everyone else… try to imagine how frightening it can be to know this power is inside you.  I have so much respect for anyone — especially the teens I work with — who allows herself to feel. And allows herself to possess this much power without hurting others, her child or herself.

Horse and farmer, Iceland © Ingolfur Juliesson

Ingolfur’s photo, left, of farmer Olafsson encouraging his shaggy Icelandic horse to come out of the toxic ash at Eyjafjoll, is a primal, powerful image of the connection between humans and other species. The looming black ash cloud and the light glimmer in the horse’s eye say it all, for me. This is an urgent moment — is there enough trust?

Florence Crittenton’s clients work with horses under the tutelage and care of our attachment bonding therapist, Maria Nyberg.  They receive therapy from the horses themselves as an adjunct to their attachment therapy in house. It’s a beautiful thing to witness the changes in some of our girls, as they spend time each week with “their” horse, learning to trust and open up to a being much larger than themselves.

Links:

• Florence Crittenton’s Center for Pregnant and Parenting Teens – website
• Video about the philosophy and programs of Florence Crittenton, Montana
• Florence Crittenton’s official Facebook page
• Friends of Florence Crittenton Facebook page
• best photos online of the volcano
• Lucas Jackson’s Reuter’s blog post & photos
• Ingolfur Juliesson’s photos

My friend and writer/poet/blogger/nature-lover/people-lover-especially-grandchildren-lover, Joyce Ellen Davis, has recently published her (at least) 3rd book of poetry, A Book of Fours.

I love the cover, but I might be biased — it’s my artwork — :-} and after I read her poems (which I know I will love because I always do appreciate Joyce’s language and insight and flowingness) I will write an update to this post.

It’s an honor, Joyce, to have my collage with your poetry. Thank you.

Off to buy Joyce’s book!

March 1989 – May 2009
his spirit has gone to the Light …

Sam went with us to the high desert in Utah last week … we knew he was very close to dying yet we could not bear to leave him, so we took him to see our teacher, Brant Secunda, one last time. Brant gave Sam a blessing on Wednesday at midnight.

Sam’s spirit left his body at 10:00 Thursday morning. As he breathed his last breaths, I lay on the floor next to Sam, my face just inches away from his eyes: he looked at me til the very end. Tim had his hand on Sam’s heart and we both told him over and over that it was okay to leave … that he had been the best pup ever and that we loved him more than anything.

the last thing he knew was the sound of our voices and the touch of our hands stroking his head, gently scratching behind his good ear and touching his heart.

Sam died peacefully and naturally
surrounded by our love…

I miss him so much. My heart has a hole now. Yet I know he is in a good place.

I took this last photo of Sam sleeping on the back seat of our car on the way down to Zion, Utah. His face was so white!

Go to the Light, Sam, go to the Light like an arrow

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I will write more later when I can.

spring melancholy

my muse …

she hides in a forest
under layers of
leaves,
leftover
from winter

not so sure
she wants
to emerge,
yet
compelled

to awaken
by the bright
singing of
sparrow
and siskin

and roots
sucking water
expounding on
spring’s
insufferable
cheerfulness

©2009 MaureenShaughnessy