Kate Lamberg Center for Natural Healing and Creative Arts~

can you hear the swish of rain on the already slick asphalt interspersed by handfuls of wind have you stopped everything you usually begin your day with and just listen to how i am reaching out to you i am sharing the first sounds of a morning not quite hatched as it is dark, the cats sleep in a tangle on the piano the second story red brick building i live in is encapsulated with such a thunderous silence: children, parents, grandparents... dream of being more patient paying more attention to elders- the garbage truck swings by at exactly 6:40 am we all are as ready as we can be for the sunrise--however much it will be obscured---by the rain, the tear filled sky, releasing myths of inequality, the lessening of lies--that can bring us closer to discovering each others' humanity- healing the hurts with both the gentle pling of rain, and a learned appreciation  for each breath, holding our hands firmly--as we ascend the mountain not knowin...

"Praise and blame, gain and loss, pleasure and sorrow... come and go like the wind. To be happy, rest like a great tree in the midst of them all. " ~ Buddha (photo~kate lamberg (c) '14)

we are only sweetness protected by roughened bark before spring, we rise release the useless while retaining essence..... (going within) the whirling dervish spins harmonies pluck peace without finding faults in friends we float on lake-song ~three haiku/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

While walking straight into the incessant northerly winds, she promised herself she would remember. She promised herself she would  continue to feel in her dancing soul the quality of mountain spirit. This would assure her alignment with  feeling safe and centered in the deepest heart beat of  mother earth. Whispering in her softest voice, she lifted her head up to the solitary cedar tree growing in her yard, (now, practically half her own age).  She then recited a prayer her grandmother moonriverstar sung when she was a small child. Grandmother  Moonriverstar Prayer: never leave the province of your truest heart you will never be lost and you will never feel scared blessings are carried in the blood and bones surely are scented with the sacred flavor of ancestors whose heart beat matches the drumbeat throughout the canyon, flinging stones rising high into the turquoise sky blessed purple shapes dart reminding all who remain still that to li...

"Ignorance can be compared to a dark room in which you sleep. No matter how long the room has been dark, an hour or a million years, the moment the lamp of awareness is lit the entire room becomes luminous. You are that luminosity. You are that clear light." -Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche (photo~kate lamberg (c) '14)

bamboo forest remote, yet accessible silver sounds sacred light rain unheard of to underground honey bears stirring green mint tea best not to catch fish and to dream of lemon sole, singing in spirals string of haiku/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14...all rights reserved.

It's the Holidays, and as much as it stirs the feelings of peaceful cooperation, love, and light... There are also major stresses--how to get everything done, while remaining relaxed, alert and at peace with ourselves. Consider treating yourself( as well as loved ones!) to the gift of health and well-being: ~ A one hour therapeutic massage, deep tissue, or an energizing shiatsu session... ~On your feet all the time? What about a relaxing reflexology treatment? We use only the purest creams and oils, with the addition of 100 % Natural Aromatherapy scents to match every mood! Also available: Pregnancy/Medical massage, Polarity, Trigger point therapies, Myofacial Release, One-On-One Yoga. We at Center for Natural Healing, are celebrating our 27th year, and always honor your unique needs. "WE ALL NEED TO BE KNEADED" (((Ten dollars off first massage Buy four massage treatments at regular price and get the fifth treatment free!))) Gift Certificates ava...

sticky butternut squash bakes while emma cat purrs on my flanneled lap darkness lifting at dawn scents of holiday foods bring quiet joys--pooled with memories of those who won't be joining our table this year (i sigh, and shed a tear) we shall all meet up again---in another form in essence, it's only the form that changes; in spirit we are all one and the same breath, spark light, love words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

Wishing all my friends and soul family a beautiful thanksgiving. As we move through this busy, sometimes hectic  holiday season, let us be even more mindful of each other, and show our compassion whenever possible. Remember when complaining about the cold, that there are many without a roof over their head, who don't always know when their next meal will be. Turn complaints into expressions of what it is we are truly grateful for.Think OptiMYSTIC! :) Let's side step the petty stuff,  and  embrace the core of what is important. To love and to be loved, to maintain robust physical health, and  our abilities to create! Dance, Sing, Write a Poem, Play an instrument, Paint! Be less concerned with the finished product, and more immersed in the present moment of pure joy as witnessed by children, who naturally know what is important! May exuberance and vitality be truly yours...reflected in bright eyes and sweet smiles! :) Bright blessings, Best of Health, Love and ...

what silence is for a church mouse makes a music unknown to pines when darkness sets in---the moans and creaks of cedar bark and curves of earth--bound on a single silver thread a broken bird's wing--directed towards wholeness has a way of re-calibrating the essential--no longer lingering on clam shells and poppies, long over their peak in the meadow of benevolence; how we breathed without a single rehearsal, how the softest whale song emitted an electric blue energy so close to the edge of the high tide mark and the cypress, leaning in towards the shaded pine province exactly at sunset when the quiet was deafening and the mild blue sky air would wrap garlands of unpredictable joy seeping from the now rising creek a lizard's tongue reaching its mouthpiece clear through the still unconcerned pond (words & photo~ kate lamberg (c) '14)

there are no true endings, if our lives are seen simply, as circular our stories are woven, amidst our ancestors' with the finest dried grasses dyed a tumeric mustard yellow to be left to dry on the river bank among tall grasses soon we realize, those who move into the ethers--having left securely their stories-- echo the cries of babies not yet born ~words/photo~kate lamberg

I hear that Mother Earth is Dancing in both passion and rage. She wants you simply to listen to her humble truths, and to receive her all embracing blessings. From now on, it's either "mother earth first", or a spinning of our mother out of control forever. A healing serving of Mother Earth Dancing. ~words and photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

friday night on the harbour everything was flowing just the way we felt fortunate to have been apart of the equation fire melding with earth re-telling a slowing- down story outside the lines of predictable parables ~words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

the weather changed four times between morning and evening... overcast blue grey skies at dawn, followed by misty citrus clearing by eleven we were walking on sand clouds amidst a lapis blue sky, melting into lake-like waters of green and blue the warm birthed air of early afternoon an october light filling in the quiet spaces of conversations, monet muted while we would stop to look over the newly descending tide walking the path of non resistance feet drawn into the sugared sand as if magnets lived just below our feet sensing the pull of all that means the world to us, savoring the layers of swaying: green gold grasses fuscia beach plums, abandoned tree houses set deeply in a cloistered thicket we fall fully for the beach line that ushers the perfect moments that later would paint rainbows and huge pink clouds whether or not they are visible, the stars on hold shone as bright as rubies when sleep became the resolve of higher beings knowing the s...

dancing in the light, celebrating this moment-- we drink in silence haiku and photo ~Kate Lamberg (c) '14

belly flopped into the cheshire lake no mistake to be swimming among the living-- how they leave their mark on bark, and algaed boulders sitting perfectly still it is only angels changing costumes in between the first and second acts a love grows like ivy round a douglas fir so far up the tree, we trust the dust won't get on us- as we become immune: to desert dunes and not quite full moons it's gabrielle in a superwoman costume making rounds at tanya's tundra- snaking below the boulevard sounding like a dozen jet planes and fine english china from devonshire with little hand paintings of red foxes and a lot of green branches of pine orange sunshine and lemon posey pour more color onto the ivory bisque we sit to sip-- in the late october sun ~words and watercolor~kate lamberg (c) '14 ​

milky blue skies amble aimlessly while waking-- before she left a dream of dancing clear across some cat-tailed over grown pond ginger bread and honey comb candles line the perimeter of a space so hallowed that time and temperature rise to meet the wide warm chords of home-coming carousing the painted horses who without stopping- move up and down to an asphalt beat--cementing any doubts of when we would meet----again the instrumental allowing us more time to tell the difference between a colorless morning sky and one which naturally is on fire with fuscia & where we look respectively...and how the train engine accelerates steam between our elephant ears-- while whole families of geese loom a natural order filling up the skies--unbeknownst to baby cries charred steeples get scratched on sundays celebrants sing psalms deep into the night while we look-- both into, and beyond what is right...undivided- within a water fall light ~words/photo~kate la...

Sacred is not something one can put in a polished wooden box, and take out every now and then to remember what it is. Sacred is an all the time accessible feeling tone....one experiences when taking the time to be still and quiet, hearing one's soul whisper, and acting upon the higher messages, with grace and humility. (words and photo~kate lamberg (c) '14)

sky holds pink stripes on white and blue peeps through while she walks softly through the dew laden grass garden flowers, drowsy welcome her quietly she breezes past, taking notice of how very much she feels alone--although she full well knows that robins, blue jays, and gulls are circling above in perfect arcs to remind all who are feeling left behind--that we are neither alone or behind the times--the edges of the warm air, and her brushing against a damp shrub-- beginning to grow crimson berries.. are all the signs she needed to know walking softly--every so quietly towards october's end she sighs along with pumpkin face richly orange, jeweled fertile seeds moist within--clinging to long thin fibers of light orange flesh deep inside the recesses of a bright joyful pumpkin, sitting upright in the garden at dawn ~kate lamberg (c) '14 ~words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

what images dreams do show never stop revealing where we hold back from being more greatly there a million years can fly by dancing quietly in the luminous core of a golden sunflower without a tap on the door and then-- a sudden wind opening a single door-- imploring all who care to walk within the realization, amidst the apple crisp air: no choices need be chosen- when souls go dancing bare words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '15

surrender to the ever present love for one's self not rushing the opening of the voluptuous scented flower nor safely keeping watch we allow the natural course of buds and petals...as friends we gladly connect with on the ascending path we join our feet hands hearts dancing the effortless work of being our selves in a world of harsh artifice we wind around the sweet rising fire of delight never giving up the flight ~ words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

october rain becomes the hyphen--- between lines we tether sumac ribbons ivy covered brick, willow leaves turning a silvery sage--the aspens blazing climbing once distant hills of caramel now, so close we can touch its fringes random rain drops on pitched roofs, rollicking morning barely apparent-- steeped in sounds of birch bark peeling, scents of apples simmering, and freshly found pine cones leaving sticky resin north wind gently pushing lace curtains acquiescing so early, no sounds of cars or the clop of feet stomping music still late enough to see an awakening charcoal sky from the vantage point of angels on high ~kate lamberg (c) '14

we cannot be sure where the mill stream goes when we are sleeping but we love her still her ability to bring up the muddy bottom and carry it along in quiet reverie, or with the softest of songs ~string of haiku/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14 all rights reserved.

"The entire universe is contained within one's imagination." ~Albert Einstein where would angels appear if we did not believe in their inherent healing? how would stars reveal themselves to us without our faith in their incessant turning? why do birds sing so soon after sunrise? they have always sung-- we are just now paying attention to their endless precious singing.... words/photo~ kate lamberg (c) '14 all rights reserved

in memory of Ronald Fischman alone on the sabbath grappling, as if my own natural ability to breathe easily was shut-down my own self closed in an air tight darkened room first thinking of how i was light freely breathing on my woods walk before i knew of the tragedy how he was bludgeoned from behind while i was probably hugging a tree in my innocent non-knowing not an accident, an intentional stabbing of another an intrusion,that took his breath, blood, and a life a senseless act of violence perpetrated by an angry out of bounds person who never knew the word compassion--- while the victim's two small children lay dreaming in their beds--- the older boy, soon to be seen as a man on his Bar Mitvah only two weeks from the horror the younger girl, still innocent among dolls and stuffed unicorns the magic of family destroyed by the single act of an intruder as if hitler walked into a Monet painting- and insisted that the lilies instead o...

the still muggy warm air of october leaves her restless---waiting for the cooler dry to wrap around her slowly opening heart---to dance with what is changing all around and not to offer any resistance is the leafy path she was ordered to walk in a whisper--sometime long ago-- when walking was new; where beauty sung both loudly, and in a hush of a prayer purveyed in a swish of deepening reds and golds-  the leaves,secured on trees,  and those that crept free-- filling the skies with wonderment clearing her eyes of the pressing pain of lies that got her in the solar plexus she returns to the path carved by her need for solitude soon to be shared with one who reaches to hold her hand through all kinds of weather no longer feeling she had to be a fair weathered feathered friend but one who warbles along until along the worn stones at sea until the stones stop clicking a salsa tune beneath the all embracing moon words/photo~kate lamberg...

daubs of crimson, russet, gold trees on fire- impossible to hold onto any solitary beauty; all becomes revealed while walking. unrehearsed; this world, we inhabit crowns us with all the elegance we would ever need to know-- with a score of one million herons placed, to sing where once we slid beneath the illuminated pond- on fire with desire! ~words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

he arrives with earthen sleeves and a warm flood of amorous chords dribbled in from a galaxy i have yet to visit he seems to live there with a stare of a meditative star how far can two candles burn without snuffing out the flame how long can two pillars continue to pave the road with ecstasy...before the tall grasses alongside the country road flare up in cognizance; it is the will to flame that leaves us out of breath, which causes the burning of her golden mane, turned into a pixie cut- for fancy loves change and how the sparkler enjoys rearranging window panes, and thick oak doors left open for amour madness escapes through key holes and heart holes on cellos deeply rich and sweet to gingerbread fussing and white picket fencing, letting in the sonorous sweep of music from across the street, letting that be the gentle harmonics she wishes to keep-- the symphony alive in pies. shared by the baker's son before any chords w...

scarlet leaves, you've returned from a place of mystery- how green you have been wistfully waiting for miracles... struggling to make sense of a restless, sudden spring will you allow me, in the grace of summer's leaving, to give a broader berth- for fertile fall, simply weaving to celebrate the garland spot which you effortlessly ignite let me spin with you a conjoined essence around the ground from which you rise ~words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

"If I waited for perfection, I'd never write a word." Margaret Atwood what is perfect to me may be just an irregular shadow of a tin pipe tarnished in the sun the perfection of a moment can only be the one that is most fully experienced the still point between the out-breath and the following in-breath even the thoughts of wondering how... no person ever goes down the same uneven pot-holed road similarly some can notice the clear lines of feet parallel to ground, while others take notice of the first of the sails being raised on a still temperate morning so early we can, with deliberation, detect the rich citrus scent of an orange peeled at midnight- while looking up at the almost full moon- it's golden solemnity pooling through all the sleeping eyes and those, such as mine, looking at yours--from a distance of a million stars, close enough to taste the sharp points made by a super nova overlapping with the smooth awakening frui...

sometimes, the light of day sweeps a darkness we thought we could not bring our hands around we thought the noose of expanding dark would trap the freedom of the lark and leave a cloistered life for evermore; but, no; it seems the crooked door could utter a plaintive song which would let the light once more wrap around the wooden shudders softening sighs and lifting the tight noose of darkened corners to one which lets the semi- dim window pane-- a preposition to what we knew would wander in no expanding light could be left out when providence and upward gaze courts the brilliance of one autumn sun words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

where would we be without the fading tatters of a life spent relaxed with one heart open who would we be without  the leaning in to cup the freely flowing waters of anagada springs pumping joy without exhibiting one blessed thing it's the feelings that trump, the thoughts that split in a second of infinite wondering-- wanting to be what we have been ushered into the world for a slowly rising poppy, perforated at the center of all light reaching deep within the watercolor washing wistful through  tubular bells red foxes on the loose- let love rest where the leaves spill in figured eights collected by the cool rounded boulders forming a circular pool of pensive sitting along the banks of stillness a random swaying of torso indicating nothing but pure flow words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

leaves peak in amber bursts on some trees, while others remain still green--hanging on the branches samba with a forceful north wind and one soft october rain we arrive at beauty road by neither holding on, nor coldly dismissing but simply attending to the delicate details focusing on the clean sheen of present moments- birthed into leaves spiraling against a placid sky falling on to the welcoming earth floating upon  rivers of our mirth words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

armed with books and journal high energy snacks and relaxed openness she joins her winged friends watches them do their flapper dance studies the changing sheen on tall green grasses--how queen anne's lace brown in an all day downpour the tide dead low, allowing her to explore the tiny creatures moving in adagio she steps into the center of time stretched like salt water taffy on retreat from the sputtering noise of exhaust fans harbour is crooning cleaner air whipping her honeyed hair into random curls of surrender she's becoming misunderstood from some who appear outside of her soul group---and she is beginning not to care- for her feet are returning to the dampened sand with her self-respect held between her healing hands she touches smooth stones and in turn is touched by the peace of pine cones ~words and photo~kate lamberg (c) 9/11/14

we wrap the day in ancient beauty seeing through our abilities to free summer in a backstroke through a slower stream in a backyard dream we release the child of incessant wants, and embrace with grace: what guides hearts and eyes-- with the simplest of lullabies ~ 'chant', and photo (c) ~kate lamberg 9/22/14

a tire swing, tied to a loyal oak tree allows each child the simple joys of flying higher than they could ever conceive the mind, released from thinking becomes a bright steady flame with persimmon wings, reaching beyond the height of copper leaves a soft rain falls in places once occupied by the sun how we accept miracles while the blessed work is done words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

".to the soul, the most minute details and the most ordinary activities, carried out with mindfulness and art,have an effect far beyond their apparent insignificance.” ~Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul: A Guide for Cultivating Depth and Sacredness in Everyday Life her sharp attendance to the details of thinning bark glistening scented wood the snap crunch of dead heading the tree- how each branch fell in a muffled stage whisper on a sodden september lawn how even a yawn could not stop her from staying with the task at hand- her heart demanding another chance to remove what serves no one; revealing a clear view of huge sky-sighing, cobalt blue and how divinely feminine the ordinary moment catches fire while the present tense of she and tree- in silent symbiosis, gently does conspire poem/photo~kate lamberg (c) 9/23/14

 misty green meadow  drinking through autumn bamboo  re-balancing haiku/photo~ kate lamberg (c) '14

"We do not see things as they are. We see things as we are." Anais Nin   all she knew out on the great sea was blue blue blue staring at her as she appeared to be gazing back at skies & waters blue- all while the sails were fully raised their sheet music flapping with a steady southwest wind--she was being carried to heights that even she knew nothing about--there's no true north at sea, when the captain takes the helm in his hands-- a magic trick to fool even the schooled fish-a million eyes shine from below the surface of such clear waters...still-- no one knows the score sailing at break neck speed her heart needing to trust the captain's anecdotal lead the sails in lustrous abundance carry all who choose to shine as feathers tossed in changing wind as a fearless pelican readying for a nearly deadly storm so far from home- she can be relieved to be without anything but a single eye-- one smashing sea, one solitary sky ~w...

Welcome to Center for Natural Healing's 'Fall into Winter" Schedule! The center is open Monday-Saturday for Therapeutic Massage, Reiki, One on One Yoga, All treatments facilitated by Kate Lamberg BA, LMT (since 1987) Monday-Friday~ 10-6 Saturday~          9-12 noon Yoga Zone at the Port Jefferson Free Library~Open mic poetry and music, hosted by Kate Lamberg First Tuesday of the month. 6:30-8:45 PM Next one: Tuesday, October 7th.  We will have the wonderful Suffolk County Poet Laureate, Pramila Venkateswaran as our featured poet. This is a special evening, you won't want to miss! Open mic always follows the featured poet/musician. So bring any poems you are working on, or a collection of poems from a favorite poet. Monthly Retreat: One Saturday or Sunday a month, from 10-12:30. Gentle yoga, guided meditation and deep relaxation. Time to journal, and share. Followed by an optional potluck lunch. Suggested Donation is 30. N...

autumn stands alone without feeling separate not left out, as beauty pours without ceasing through river running circumnavigating around shiny rocks exposed to the sun in late afternoon steam rises up to meet the still cooler air an embrace leaving even the wildflowers blushing this afternoon of the living proof-  that nothing still need be done--  and all the world spills eloquence in evening dew on fading roses and hearty mums proud as heart stands upright, still buffeted by the swayed line of pines skating around the perimeter of a garden grown with as much grace as one gardener could muster this time a way to settle the score in warm major chords for gratitude is the stuff of life-- is the one our soul has chosen to rise from the ashes, unscathed and fearless icarus,rising through the cleansing central fire encapsulated in a purple aura blasting through all that is not true ~duets and photo~kate lamberg 9/17/14 ...

photo by christie baker (c) '14     "Being Love rather than giving or taking love is the only thing that provides stability. " ~Ram Das sitting squarely on a leveled patch of grass leaves just beginning to turn their warm crimson guiltless, i love with all the stuff that appears to create star clusters and the soft plaintive song of the final dance- a dirge in a minor key captivating all who see the lie of separateness my love, i do not need to rush to you or declare being left to witness dancing crows and flighty geese it's in the holy book--says love and grappling for truth can and do exist in a single breath of letting go of expecting any bird who flies south before the first frost to not be considered any less a friend- for old souls are we and this showing up 'neath glowing autumn trees will be you and me in no time, no place because our love is all the time and any place whispers our friendship, before any windo...

~for edna st. vincent millay (her birthplace) we were there simply to worship the sea from a bright white clapboard with shiny black shutters high up in the hills we played our music deep into the night of fireflies and stars so bright we could taste the saltspray from two blocks away morning ragas at dawn courted by a cacaphony of sea gulls waters churning, voices burning to match the sun's birth rising out of wild waters we found time to pause for tea outside on the balcony swept in endless song we heard the sea belt out the blues so loud- the sleepy town awoke--- and listened as the heaving sea by morning light in rich shades of holiness did glisten ~words and photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

"At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet." Plato The blue skies were in her favor. The blue in the skies could not help  but relax all the worries she had before. The worries about getting things done. ~words and photo~kate lamberg (c) '14  setauket harbor~ katyajo (c) '14

may we sit centered, breathing in what is present, pink, and true while we simply release illusion in the out breath through sky and water shades of blue ~kate lamberg (c) '14 google image

cooler air drops in head bowed on purpose surrendering haiku and photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

be sugar in a goblet of water without thinking, heart becomes captain on the crystal ship letting mind retire its insanity swallowed by a sea urchin to return to the sea and in the spring succumb its true colors within a purple lotus just barely gliding above the peaceful waters bringing us back to states 'oh innocence awaken' bright up from a dream of wishful thinking-- glints of light slice through illusion's grip-  opening palms to face the sun truth spills from fingertips-- a fast forwarded eden: now for every one photo and words- kate lamberg (c) '14

how kind of you to bring some cool plums on this hot day i left them to soften in the sun by dusk i indulged within my shameless joy plum juice cascading down chin and returning to the ground-- this plum's short life, well lived was among the best i have found ~words and photo~kate lamberg (c) '14

photo by kate lamberg (c) '14 a single golden leaf spiraling down-- to rest with others for awhile upon a cool grassy plain the early darkness descending down the mountain like goats returning home from summer when the river quiets her boisterous rock and roll and in prayer whispers kind elegies how the salty breeze at dusk becomes a semi-permeable nucleus keeping in and letting out our own magnificence ~ Kate Lamberg (c) '14

sunrise photo~kate lamberg (c) '14 soon after sunrise small clusters of clouds crowd the horizon like peaks of the himalayas a community of clouds worshiping: blessed day's bright beginning ~kate lamberg (c) '14