The Nest

"climb inside the darkness to sing"

 I'm no longer seeing darkness

as a metaphor for awful.

Darkness is rather, a metaphor

for what is unknown,

for what we can't yet see.

It speaks to mystery and uncertainty.

It can be a place of great pain and

 contain exquisite beauty.

It can be a place of loneliness

and a land of intimate friendship.

It frightens us as it enlivens us.

It calls us forth while

taking us to the depths.

Befriending darkness

adds new dimension to 

our tiny places

and moves us into 

spaciousness and generosity.

kastilwell

 

Browsing

First of all, in case you noticed,

yesterday's thought was a repeat.

It always strikes me how fickle memory 

can be--a real jokester even.

How I can put entirely different words

on the same thought just a few days (or weeks) apart.

I wonder if that's what resurrection feels like?

A new life with scant memory of what went before?

On to browsing...

I LOVE this.  It redeems all those

times I felt guilty for "wasting" time

browsing through social media.

The truth of this bears out because 

that's how I discovered many, many

of the thoughts I've shared at least once,

(and sometimes twice).

It's also introduced me to poets

I never would have encountered otherwise.

So, cheers to some "wasted" time!

kastilwell

 

Everyday Is Not An Opportunity

This is a perfect reflection for today.

"Some days are there 

for you to accept yourself

and look at the clouds."

This applies especially

when the clouds are heavy with rain.

Welcome rain, yes, with heavy clouds.

"The flowers do it everyday"

The reason flowers brighten everyone's day.

So, let's all remember and practice

making the world beautiful

just by being here.

kastilwell

 

Limitless

"Be your own illumination."

Such sweet wisdom from the world

I so often take for granted.

"Small does not mean powerless."

That phrase, in particular, galvanizes me.

Here's a shot of my one small slice 

of a single modest galaxy yesterday morning.

It felt vast and limitless.

Standing there gazing upward.

I was awestruck.

kastilwell 

 

Recalibration

 

Death Is

Contemplating the cellular activity

happening to the remains of a being who has died,

 shows one how this is so.

It's a thought that caused a strong pause 

and then a hearty yes.

One of those paradoxical,

messy-brilliant realities

I appreciate more and more

as my own life moves closer

to overflowing.

kastilwell

 

Remember, Remember

Becoming "acutely aware" is the prompting.

I want to become acutely aware of

the promising and the possibility.

I want to remember that uncertainty

doesn't have to mean doom and gloom.

It could mean something wonderful,

an unexpected cause for jubilation,

rejoicing, dancing in the street with strangers.

It could be small and extremely significant.

I want to remember most people are kind and good hearted,

living quietly all across the globe,

rising each day and doing the best they can.

We are in the process of writing history.

The River of Goodness is flowing strong

carrying us along with unseen but perceivable 

grace and power.

I will no longer be taking this for granted.

kastilwell

 

Hope In The Dark

I confess to some strong tension going on inside of me

as I contemplate Solnit's thoughts and ideas.

I'm feeling called out. 

However, I believe, small actions matter.  And doing nothing isn't being idle.

I have a strong resistance to guilt as a motivator.

I am seeking a way to act that makes sense and has an impact however tiny.

There's also my deep belief in the River of Goodness which

gives me hope in the darkest of hours.

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer's poem today brings solace.  

I love this place (Earth).

There are options:

"to shovel, to teach, to clean, to rebuild,

to organize, to guide".

All options matter.

We Can Tell Of A Past

"we can tell a more complicated and accurate story. . .

a memory that includes our power"

It's difficult to distill her thoughts into

short statements...I think this is because

it takes more than short quotes to 

give justice to what everyday citizens

have been able to accomplish across history

and to remind us what is necessary for hope.

"Despair is ... a form of impatience as well as of certainty,"

is one of her quotes that requires a lot of words to unpack.

Her thoughts on despair, especially on the left

hit me hard as they revealed a truth I hadn't seen in myself.

I was raised to believe things happen to me. 

My job was to accept them ("God's will).

No one discussed managing the uncertainty 

of the future and the possibility of being

an instrument of change for the good.

I was taught to brace myself for the inevitable

hardship that I was destined to endure;

rather than being taught that uncertainty 

is a fact of life and I have the agency

to participate in bringing about 

a world I want to live in.

This book makes me want to

"play a role in that change" [for the better]

in whatever way I can.

I'm going to include this rather long section as I think its worthwhile in case you're interested.

"Left despair has many causes and many varieties. There are those who think that turning the official version inside out is enough. To say that the emperor has no clothes is a nice antiauthoritarian gesture, but to say that everything without exception is going straight to hell is not an alternative vision but only an inverted version of the mainstream’s “everything’s fine.” Then, failure and marginalization are safe—you can see the conservatives who run the United States claim to be embattled outsiders, because that means they can deny their responsibility for how things are and their power to make change, and because it is a sense of being threatened that rallies their troops. The activists who deny their own power and possibility likewise choose to shake off their sense of obligation: if they are doomed to lose, they don’t have to do very much except situate themselves as beautiful losers or at least virtuous ones. 

There are the elaborate theory hawkers, who invest their opponents with superhuman abilities that never falter and can never be successfully resisted—they seem obsessed with an enemy that never lets them go, though the enemy is in part their own fantasy and its fixity. There are those who see despair as solidarity with the oppressed, though the oppressed may not particularly desire that version of themselves, since they may have had a life before being victims and might hope to have one after. And gloom is not much of a gift. Then there are those whose despair is personal in origin, projected outward as political analysis. This is often coupled with nostalgia for a time that may never have existed existed or may have been terrible for some, a location in which all that is broken now can be imagined to have once been whole. It is a way around introspection. 

Another motive for gloom is grandstanding, for the bearer of bad news is less likely to get shot than to acquire a certain authority that those bringing better or more complicated news won’t. Fire, brimstone and impending apocalypse have always had great success in the pulpit, and the apocalypse is always easier to imagine than the strange circuitous routes to what actually comes next. And then, speaking of fire, there is burnout, the genuine exhaustion of those who tried—though sometimes they tried in ways guaranteed to lead to frustration or defeat (and then, sometimes, they burned out from being surrounded by all these other versions of left despair, to say nothing of infighting).

Solnit, Rebecca. Hope in the Dark

 

The Sleeping Giant

What a gift to be reading/listening to this book now.

Even though it was published in 2017,

it is relevant for today.

In my world, she is describing the River of Goodness.

It is vital we remember and cherish this.

Another fitting quote:

“Paul Goodman famously wrote, 

“Suppose you had the revolution you are talking and dreaming about. 

Suppose your side had won, and you had the kind of society that you wanted. 

How would you live, you personally, in that society? 

Start living that way now!” 

I believe we've been doing this...and we will carry on

and overcome that which does not serve dignity for all.

kastilwell

 

Flight Paths Ending

"...my mother gave me a gift containing only air,

only a scent to breathe once and never again--

something familiar but undefined, 

a secret that could not be spoken 

but brimmed with memory and atmosphere all at once."

I read this line several times mulling over its meaning.

When I saw "mother" as Earth, my breath caught in my throat.

"my mother gave me a gift containing only air"?

Only air?  

After covid, haven't we all recognized the omnipotence of air?  

Haven't we come to deeply appreciate the "simple" act of breathing?

"a secret that cannot be spoken".

This "brims" with an air of mystery and invisible power.

 Like coming home to a place you sense is there

but haven't yet walked through the door.

You're standing with your hand on the knob

envisioning the welcome opening inside you.

"...the secret of being without validation..."

Being at home inside yourself

without need for followers, views or clicks.

Friendships are the rare treasures of your existence.

"We are all born a secret.  Maybe life is in learning 

to set it free."

Yes. Yes. Yes.

kastilwell

 

Flight Paths Three and Four

"I can fly but my words cannot."

Some words do fly.

They begin in the heart of one person

and fly through the ether

by various means of transport

from one person to another.

They carry invisible vibrations

only other hearts who are listening can hear.

Sometimes it takes years or eons

for those words to land on the cochlea of another;

  dropping seeds of enchantment there.

"The desire to speak and become what they are."

Does one have to speak to become who they are?

Does speaking to oneself count?

It feels true. 

Speaking, writing, signing,

drawing, painting, singing,

growing plants, raising children,

teaching students...

there are many, many ways 

of speaking yourself

into who you are.

kastilwell

 

Flight Paths Two

"As a child, I thought I'd been stitched together from scraps;

a quilted child..."

This description speaks to how so many of us are knit together, doesn't it?

A father descended from County Clare farmers,

a mother from a German adoptee and a sulky driver from Sligo.

The quilt gets more intricate with each generation.

"I think I am the child of too many poems instead."

Somewhere back in time, somewhere in my line of succession;

perhaps even several someone's,

I'd like to believe, lived a poet or two.

Jotting musical words as she waited for dinner to simmer,

or at a kitchen table during nap time,

or sitting on the floor in the bathroom

as children played in the tub.

Someone who wrote on pages no longer existing.

Pages decayed or burned or discarded with their things.

Written for fun or from longing or sorting things out, 

not for an audience.

Stitched together from poems.

kastilwell

 

Flight Paths One

"We all begin in secret"

A tantalizing thought,

and a new one for me.

Yet, isn't it true? 

It feels delicious.

I know I certainly feel

"late for the present moment" often.

So many times, I experience

a feeling of delayed response

as my mind absorbs something

now in the past and wish I'd

have "caught it" 

when it was actually happening.

I know only a little about being displaced;

but can imagine it.  I love the language 

the poet uses.

"an unfinished sketch

hovering in the half-light...

space of endlessness

and disequilibrium"

And finally, anyone attempting to learn a new language

can identify with "bruising ones mouth".

I would add bruising one's mind as well.

PS:  This is the first section of a larger poem I'm posting in smaller pieces. I'm struck by this poem being co-written by two poets, I was also drawn by the fact it's featuring emerging (a favorite word) women writers from migrant backgrounds.  It makes this piece especially poignant to me. I haven't much experience with being 

Elodie Books and Creative Writing editor at Lucy Writers Platform, and is a co-facilitator of What the Water Gave Us, an Arts Council England funded anthology project for emerging women writers from migrant backgrounds,

In Between Worlds

 These words form an aspiration.

Something I feel close to and eager for.

"A part of her is leaving." 

I know the part intimately but cannot name her.

It has to do with outsize concern about outside opinions.

"She's present and neither timid nor bold."

Accepting hard feelings within . . .

no longer rejecting them.

Riding the tumult of conflicting emotions

with steady determination, rising after falling.

Offering her best with dignity and humility.

Recognizing the steepest paths

often result in the most revealing views.

Knowing that not knowing is also a path

and stumbles are part of the adventure.

Listening deeply for the song, 

often silent, always enchanting...

sometimes even humming

snatches of it to herself.

kastilwell

 

Listen

Another gem squirreled away 

some time ago.

On this note, I offer this poet.

Namaste'

The dignity in me 

bows to the dignity in you.

Finish Each Day

Oh the joy in being able to sweep away

all bothersome items swirling in my mind.

(I started to use the word "brain"

until making a fascinating side trip into

 the definition of mind.)

 I have found that, within reason,

those bothersome items can sometimes

lead to new growth and hints of maturity.

If I follow Emerson's advice,

I will chuck those old notebooks/(nonsense?)

I keep promising myself to go through

to glean potential material

for current writing projects.

That being said, 

I appreciate the

spirit of his words.

kastilwell

 

So Many Ways

I tucked this away 5 years ago.

I find much richness in Solnit's words.

Language matters.

How you use it matters.

Your subject matters.

Her words reach out with an invitation

as time here spirals toward completion.

How will I describe this one life?

It matters as "a kind of self respect",

even if I'm the sole member of the audience.

Do I have the courage to accept the invitation?

To speak to the joy and the heartache?

To describe it all with 

"precision, accuracy, and clarity"?

There's another aspect I might add...

to describe it with an air 

of generosity and grace.

This is where I have a revelation.

Thoughts do matter.

kastilwell

We Are Showered Every Day

Paying attention is critical here.

First to recognize and acknowledge

the gifts I so often take for granted.

Then its about paying attention to

and attending what it is

I'm putting out into the universe.

That's where it gets sticky.

That's where self mercy is required.

I'm realizing the importance

and the frequency of the need for forgiveness...

beginning with myself to myself

and spiraling outward to others.

That's where I come to a major realization.

May Earth forgive us our multitude of trespasses.

I fervently hope she continues 

to have the power to do so.

kastilwell

 

Poetry Can

"Open locked chambers of possibility,

restore numbed zones to feeling..."

I can attest to the truth of this.

It is the magic of words

woven together in thoughtful patterns

providing new/old perspectives

to common themes and objects.

Turning words into music...

a dirge, a ditty, a documentary.

Displaying humanity's endless diversity,

as well as expressing our vast range 

of emotional and intellectual 

possibility and power.

kastilwell

 

The Beauty of Darkness

"How it lets you see",

and how it sharpens our hearing;

and how it intensifies our 

power of "skin awareness".

Darkness shifts my perceptions

in fascinating ways even

as I rebel against the awkward discomfort

of beautiful inky blackness.

kastilwell

 

We Must Use What We Have

It's always been about 

finding what I desire,

I never considered inventing it.

What a concept!

And the thought of using

what I already have to do so?

Genius!  

So much of my life has been about

striving for more, more, more.

Now I train my focus on 

the riches I already have access to

and all that is still possible.

I still wish to grow,

to sow seeds which will 

bear fruit one day,

to tend to what is coming alive now,

and open my heart

to be surprised by the plenty

of the harvest.

kastilwell

 

We Need To Imagine

"thinking itself will be transformed."

With people like Sharon Blackie, Robin Kimmerer,

and many, many others, we are moving

ever closer and closer to this 

"new relationship to the universe."

We must keep on imagining and creating

the life we know in our bones is possible

and necessary.  

Though despair looms large. 

We will never give up.

kastilwell