Breath

"It's the heaving breath of the very earth

carrying along the prayer of all things:

Do all things pray?  I do not know

but I do know all things want to live...

to survive and thrive.

"All giving silent thanks and remembrance

each moment. . .while we hurry past 

heedless of the mysteries...

Some of us try not to hurry past...

some of us take heed of the mysteries...

some of us dedicate our lives in convents,

monastaries, ashrams, caves, homes, tents...

in reverence and gratitude.

And yet, every secret wants to be told,

every shy creature to approach and trust us

if we patiently listen with all our senses.

Trust and patience. Two virtues

I would welcome more of in my world.

Patience has always been puny.

Trust was stronger but diminishes with ripening,

I'm sad to report.  

I would love for them to increase

and strengthen as I believe

they may be the key to a wholehearted existence.

May we be in sync with the "heaving breath of the very earth."

 

The Architecture Of Despair

"How will you ever save the world?  You,

who is made of one voice and many limits?"

How many of us lie awake at night,

asking ourself similar questions? 

"However will you save yourself?

You, who is made of no name and endless trouble?"

Aren't these the type of questions that 

"writhe and twist, making us tremble"?

This is when everything in me recoils

and retreats from gruesome imaginings...

and returns to the mighty miracles

happening everywhere...

Our brothers and sisters of every hue

and shape and angle...marching,

rallying, resisting, witnessing, 

caring, praying, meditating,

singing, writing powerful poems,

essays and stories.

Connecting with neighbors,

watching out for each other.

Shining our tiny lights

as bright as we can to generate one giant beacon.

"Do not let your resignation become their final victory."

We are all in this together and we are

doing everything we can to right the heavy wrongs.

Some people are mistaken about who we are and who we want to be.

We are deep in the process of clearing up the misunderstanding.

We are showing them how truly great America is now...

AND how magnificent America is becoming.

Namaste

 

What Joins Us

"I will. . . walk to the shore with my satchel of questions, 

the ones that writhe and twist in me, 

the ones that make me tremble."

What a blazingly accurate description of the

questions I tend to skirt around without

making eye contact in order to avoid the scrutiny.

The ones I cannot bear to ask out of fear of the answer.

The ones that frighten me to my bones for what they'll require from me.

Why do I expect the answers to always be difficult? 

What kind of inner masochism is this? It's humiliating...ha!  No irony intended.

What if, the most terrifying questions lead to the most awe inspiring answers?

What if there is no test to fail, only a harvest of bounty to explore?

What if the things I fear most, given to the silence,

 boomerang back softly with a gentle nudge.?

Or I'm gifted a key to unlock space I didn't know existed?

I recently learned that atoms are 99% empty space.

Is that where silence operates? 

"No matter where we stand, we can listen to the silence

that crosses all boundaries, listen, together, 

and wade into the current beneath all listening."

I wonder if this "current beneath all listening" is where the unknown resides?

The more I ripen, the more I realize how vast and amazing that is.

This encourages me to keep asking those questions

that "make me tremble". . .to gingerly crack open the window of my heart

to the far side of fear and rage and all I find loathsome believing

that beyond the debris is immeasurably magnificent.

 

Imagine

As long as we're imagining...

"Pretend,  just for a moment that we all so loved our 

threatened earth that we . . .worked on cherishing the places

where we already are."

Think of all the goodness we can imagine into being?

Actual equity among peoples, and truth and radical justice...

for all.

"We have the revelation that everyone needs health care, sick leave, steady work."

Health care workers are paid fairly while patients receive care they need

in a timely and affordable fashion.

"health care workers are heroes. Also teachers.

Not to mention the artists of all kinds who teach us resilience and joy."

Child and elderly care workers are paid appropriately providing

expert performance for those they care for. 

Everyone has access to the education they need to fulfill their heart's purpose.

No occupation is considered above or below another.

This imagining makes for some pleasant diversion from reality doesn it?

What if it actually was possible to bring our imagining to fruition?

It's a great way to spend your leisure and who knows?

Maybe one day, our imaginings will create reality... 

 like a fairy tale come true?

Thank you for being here.

You matter.

A Great Shining

What if, in this moment, every person on earth thinks of 

someone who makes us feel cherished, known, safe?

Doesn't this sound preposterous?

So much so, I hesitated to share it.

Is this what it would take to change our world?

Everyone swimming in energy free from anything hateful?

I'm thinking of the nasties I harbor within,

 no matter how much I don't want to, 

and it makes me wonder.

Can marinating in tenderness make cruelty disappear?

They say you need to feel your feelings, don't they?

Perhaps imagining the uglies being accepted 

and rearranged into something useful?

How about something

 thick and rich and chocolaty delicious?

Just kidding ... sort of.

How about transforming it into rich, arable soil

for growing nourishing food?

Let's keep imagining, no matter how preposterous.

What do we have to lose but what is hurting us?

Namaste

 , 

River

"The river itself is nothing but movement, 

flowing like time in the only direction it can go."

And that direction is onward. 

I would add that movement is not nothing, nor is river.

"It moves without volition, without resistance..."

Gravity, Earth topography and fluid mechanics

 move the river, which means to me, river

moves in relationship to place, to Earth...

in what I'll call a communion with

the living world she touches.

"Take your pick, Your options are to stay

safe and dry on the shore or slip into the current

and be carried away."

I've come to think of River as alive

especially after reading MacFarlane's treatise on the matter.

S/he is a vital part of the ecosystem with

an essential influence on our environment and our planet.

We are wise to attend carefully to every aspect of her presence.

In the interest of "being like River", I stumble on 

"without volition and without resistance."

What if, in some as yet unknown dimension,

rivers do move with volition and resistance?

How many times have humans attempted to

control rivers and failed?

Doesn't that indicate resistance?

Doesn't it imply a volition to be what river is meant to be

without the imposition of someone else's will? 

Tyrants cannot contain rivers!

I'm grateful you are here.

 

Spinning

When this poem came by for a visit, I wanted to share it with you.

"You do not need to spin in ever increasing circles

in fear you might miss something."

How many of us grow up afraid we might miss something,

and do something wrong?  I know this fear well.

It stalks me like a jealous, jilted paramour. 

I'm getting over it.  

". . .you decide on the cargo. So lighten, lighten the load

with shrugs, not sighs."

I'm practicing the shrug; I've got sighs honed to perfection.

"You are free to love and forgive yourself for love

that hits the mark left of centre."

A clever way to say "I muddled that up nicely."

"Those who need you may never be able

to acknowledge the gift you bring..."

Something to remember when feeling unappreciated.  

It helps in continuing to put your

best broken foot forward, anyway.

There's a good possibility I'm the one

who doesn't acknowledge and appreciate

the gift of love someone brings.

It's why I love Rosemerry W. Trommer's invitation

to translate everything someone says or does, 

no matter how inept, into a gesture of love and caring.

PS: This does not include acts of violence.   She's referring to the 

insensitive things people say and do  when

 someone has experienced a profound loss."

Thank you for being you and for being here.

We're in this together.

 

Questions For Winter

This entire poem is a poignant song of longing 

for becoming who I want to be.

How timely its directed to winter. 

"Burrowing into the den of my heart" and meeting

the "feral creatures of rage, grief and shame 

with reverence for their wildness"? 

That is a journey asking for more courage than I can muster

 however, I long for the capability to 

become intimately acquainted with them without

turning away, silencing them or acting out in violence.

I'm not adept at allowing growling and howling...

(I'm afraid they'll hurt someone and its my job to prevent that)

yet, I trust I can learn to feed them with compassion.

We are sorely in need of compassion these days. 

"Can you show me how to bear the frost of my fear

with grace, how to let my misgivings melt?"

Fear is like a terrified toddler at the mercy of

big people looming over them, needing to learn

it has power of its own and how to use it wisely.

I must not let it paralyze me.

"Can you show me how to bear the heaviness of all the lonely years

on my body like patient soil beneath firm feet of snow?

She moves from one potent topic to another

 with remarkable precision, doesn't she?

"Would you reveal how to be present to my body

with the gentleness of bird wings

fluttering open to yet another dawn?

A deep, deep sigh, with a fervent yes.

"Will you show me how to be open to love

the way the clouded sky is open 

to thousands of tender snowflakes

falling through it?

I bow in humble gratitude to Elyza-Breath Blooming/E.B.B. 

for giving us these word images in honor of winter.

 

In Broad Daylight

"I take my rage to the river."

I am grateful to have Cartoogecheye Creek 

to carry my rage to. It is faithful and loyal

in its presence, acceptance, and comfort.

". . .not to rid myself of rage

but to become a clearer channel 

to meet the chest-scouring,

scab-clawing, cell-screaming,

throat-burning fury of rage

and remind my heart I can

know all this rage, can be

feral with rage and still

keep on loving the world."

I'm slowly coming to know the truth of this.

To know I can be feral with rage and

still love this gorgeous mess of a world.

May you find your place for channeling

the rage that comes from loving this world.

Namaste

 

The Channeling

"We might as well be divine."

Because I get a little wary of words that carry a scent of church,

I had to stop a minute with this sentence.

When I looked divine to verify its definition I found excellent; delightful.

With that, I was released from my hesitation.

"As masked agents arrive with guns, curses and brutal disrespect,

we might as well be divine."

Talk about HARD. 

 I am nowhere near divine or excellent or delightful watching from the comfort

of my home, at a distance, on the screen, hurling my own curses and disrespect. 

It takes every ounce of concentration to feel the rage without releasing it with violence.

Makes me wonder just how deeply my divine is buried .

"As rivers shrink and sinkholes appear and

we face water bankruptcy world wide,

On the other side of the in-our-face madness,

lies this tragic truth and lays me lower than low.

we might as well share what is not ours to own.

 I draw this close to my very heavy heart. 

And be kind to each other. And praise what good we find." 

And vow to focus every fiber of my being to metabolizing the rage,

 and fear and grief into kindness and finding the goodness.

To be reverent in my thoughts and words and actions;

and forgiving and merciful when I'm not.

To be grateful for everything that comes my way

knowing even the most horrific can become a path to goodness.

(While at the same time fervently hoping I can skirt the worst of it.)

I am thankful you are here.  We're in this together.

May we all find our divine.

Namaste

 

How Can We Not?

"I want to scream so loud the whole world is shaken awake."

I want to scream myself awake.

Watching Women's March Nonviolent Action Training

jostled my shoulder enough to disturb my slumber.

"a scream that screams through every fake and plastic thing."

It's daunting to realize how much of this exists...

Is AI fake?  That's a question for the ages.

(An aside note: I just posed the question to AI. If you are curious to hear the response, let me know.

I won't go any further into it except to share this tidbit: "The more useful question might be:

When humans use AI, are they being real?")

"I want to scream until only kindness makes sense."

From everything I've read, Alex Pretti was the epitome of kindness.

An ICU nurse caring for our veterans?  How much more kind can one get?

Is it possible his death is the scream that wakes everybody up?

How can we make art when the world has gone mad?

I've asked myself this question over and over and over

as things have unraveled over the past year.

It's been a mighty wrestling match on the inner field of my being.

"How can we not?"

Here's what comes up for me at this question?

Make whatever I'm doing art.

Isn't anything we do with reverence art?

Revere the art of brushing my teeth;

the art of drinking coffee or tea;

the art of tending to your friends and loved ones;

the art of learning more about our world;

the art of planting seeds and growing sustenance and beauty;

the art of walking, running, paddling, cooking, cleaning, laundry, caring.

The list goes on and on.

We can do this!  I'm grateful you are here.

Namaste

 

Unremembered Peace

"How quickly we forget the bliss, much less the simple okay-ness,

when the awful comes to call."

The simple okay-ness is where I find my bliss, these days.

"smashing our peace into, well, pieces. . .

like a wicked virus unwilling to leave,

determined, it seems, to take us down, down, down."

We're all exquisitely familiar with this dynamic, aren't we?

Yet, we're even more determined not to be taken down.

Each horrific cruelty adds to our determination.

"But just over the shoulder, if we look, 

we see forgotten joy waving its little snapshots at us."

Little snapshots that we can magnify to bolster our resolve.

"May we pick up joy’s snapshots,

tucking them into the photo albums of our hearts, 

helping us hold others with great tenderness."

I love the phrase, "tucking them into the photo album of our hearts."

Think of all the photos on our phone.  Aren't most of them

moments of joy, surprise, awe, wonder, and/or love?

Let's visit them often and keep them close to

help us remember the true goodness of who we are.

Namaste

 

The Sky At Sunset

Sending this on a day we don't expect to see sunrise or sunset.

But if the lights are on we are grateful.

And if not, hopefully, we are hunkered down to stay warm and dry;

reading poetry and drinking tea.

"I wanted to gather it all and keep it, hold it forever,

but where to store something so large."

I attempt to do this often...try to store the sky in my phone.

It's never successful.  Never lives up to the real thing.

The only place is my memory and we all know how inadequate that is.

"I put the pink glow back in the sky.

It lit the whole world."

My favorite line of the poem.

I want to light up goodness 

into a warm, orange radiance 

and unfurl it into the sky

where it can sweeten every corner of the world.

Namaste

 

What Is Infinite

These eight words contain much wisdom.

No addition or subtraction is necessary.

They invite ongoing deep contemplation.

Namaste

 

Impermanence

"And it is also a process of continuous rebirth

or creativity, in which things that do not exist

suddenly appear."

It's easy to forget the part about things that did 

not exist, or things we did not realize exist,

suddenly appearing in our sight and astonishing us.

We see only a tiny portion of what is in front of our eyes.

"Humans see only a tiny fraction of reality, both in terms of the electromagnetic spectrum (about 0.0035%) and detail in their visual field (around 1%), with the brain filling in most gaps using assumptions." AI

I have witnessed my own assumptions and been

humbled to my core by how blinded I was, and still am.

I'm continuing to realize and pay more attention to the fact that

life is not only a litany of loss, it is also a symphony of discovery,

and new ways of seeing.

And that is a marvel.

Namaste

 

Yes

I love, love, LOVE this.

What if, in addition to the streets, 

we took our rallies for peace

into the woods, and the rivers, 

and all the natural places we love?

"Go together, go alone.

Say no to the Lords of War,which is money. . ."

Isn't this the truth?

Everyone can participate. 

Solo rallies in the woods, at the river,

in the garden. Take a selfie saying yes.

"Say no by saying yes to the air,

 to the earth, to the trees yes to ...the rivers, 

to the birds and the animals 

and every living thing."

Say no by saying yes.  

Wendell Berry, your words fill me with hope and peace 

and an idea for how to recalibrate our world. Thank you with 

a heart-filled YES.

Namaste

 

What If We All Met

"And here, unseen, is the bridge of the moment that links me

to all that was and all that is, all that is real and all that is dream.

The bridge, as long as forever. The bridge as solid as rain.

The long, beautiful bridge vast enough to hold every word,

every story, every version of what might be."

I've had panic attacks on long, high bridges. . .

so much so I couldn't speak.  My stomach

and my throat seized up and all I could do was

gasp and laugh an uncontrollable laugh;

the kind that comes just before sobbing.

So when I first read a poem about meeting on a bridge,

as a metaphor for "behaving beautifully" it felt somewhat odd to me. 

I immediately linked it to the rainbow bridge and pets.

Rosemerry's poem does a magnificent job of 

rearranging the metaphor in a way that pleases me. 

"It is the bridge toward understanding.

And here is you. And here is me."

I would add, here is you and here is me 

and over there is them.  

The need for this "bridge toward understanding"

feels exceedingly urgent, which unexpectedly

 circles back to my panic attack.

May we find the way to meet them on this bridge

and begin to heal the divide in our country.

May the energy of understanding make tidal waves

across the globe and recalibrate the current atmosphere.

We are in this together and we can do this.

 Thank you for being here.

Namaste

PS: This brought to mind this image by brother-in-law drew in 2020.  

Note the fragility of this bridge.  Now think of the fragile look of a spider web.

"spider silk being stronger than steel on a pound-for-pound basis, 

exhibiting remarkable tensile strength and elasticity."

We are as strong and flexible as a spider web!

 

Opposition

.

"That a narrow vision of control, creating opposition where it doesn't need to exist, 

is a human-centered fixation like post-baptism bibles...

plucked from street corners from the meaty hands of zealots*."

It seems from her poem that Renee Good wrestled with the "opposition" 

between science and faith as so many of us do…(or don’t)

especially when raised in an atmosphere of strong dogma

where you're steeped in it before you reach an age of reason.

I'm waiting in gingerly optimistic hope that one day, narrow minded

people who insist on everyone seeing things their way, will be relegated

to places where their perspective can not harm others. 

". . .as I continue to wonder what can and cannot be easily

seen on Earth as it is in the heavens."

What do you find when you contemplate what 

can and cannot be seen on Earth as it is in the heavens?

I love how she puts this last sentence.

By making heavens plural and preceeding it with a simple "the";

the meaning shifts from something 

conveyed in the King James version of the Lord's prayer,

"Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven;

closer to one English translation of the line from Aramaic...

"As we find your love in ours, let heaven and nature form a new creation.” **

How ironic is it that her poem addresses one of the things I believe 

lies in the center of the division in our country?

Is it the result of believers steeped in dogma being manipulated by

wickedly clever people of dubious, self serving intention?

Nonetheless, we see through the subterfuge 

and are doing what it takes to make it seen here on Earth.

Namaste

*https://poets.org/2020-on-learning-to-dissect-fetal-pigs

**Douglas-Klotz, Neil. Prayers of the Cosmos: Reflections on the Original Meaning of Jesus' Words 

Building The World

"I haven’t given up on humans yet.

Though here in America where 

masked agents pull women and men from their homes--

people who build our communities, our country--we 

are so far from the goodness I imagine."

How can goodness be missing? 

Talk about beyond the question.

How can we chew (like a termite)* 

to undermine and collapse this structure of cruelty?

"It is in all of us, the bully, the one

who enjoys destruction, the one who

wants to feel powerful, strong."

The only destruction my "inner bully" wants

is of cruelty and injustice and domination.  

I'd be happy to destroy the brutal actions of white supremacy. 

"But it is also in us all to speak out for each other, 

to stand up for each other, to say no, this is not okay. "

We are doing this and we will keep on doing it.

We can't give up. Goodness matters.

"going out the next recess,  and the next, 

and the next, to build together again. 

Because we can."

Once again, I'm reminded that recess (rest)

is part of the equation.  

Yes, we must do everything we can

and we need recess to gather ourselves,

for ourself and for each other

so we can continue this arduous drive;

this striving for goodness.

Thank you for being here.

We can do this.

Namaste

* ps://substack.com/@jdrewlanham/note/c-185855577?r=59ose&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action.

Beyond The Question

"Can I weave a nest of silence, weave it of listening..."?

"One must first become small, nothing but a presence,

attentive as a nesting bird. Proffering no slightest wish

toward anything that might happen or be given.

What a fine way to describe meditation.

I'm thinking its possible to do this anywhere...

especially when you find yourself in waiting rooms, 

or crowded loud spaces with lots of action and noise.

"Only the warm, faithful waiting, contained in one's smallness.

I suspect she means smallness in relation to the universe,

rather than smallness as in unimportant.

We're important in our smallness.

We're important in our silence...

"beyond the question, before the answer."

My question is: will we overcome this current atmosphere?

I sit in silence before the answer

holding unto hope;

holding unto goodness.

Namaste

 

Touch The Earth

"To all who love her, who open to her

the doors of their veins, she gives 

of her strength, sustaining them with

her own measureless tremor of dark life."

I feel this ever more deeply in my goldening years.

My heart aches for want of proper care for her.

Yet, she continues to operate with exquisite offerings.

Steady and dependable with surprises abounding. 

Dark life is a fitting term as we still know so little

and much of her majesty is hidden.

"Rest your spirit in her solitary places."

Yes, for those who are fortunate to have access.

How many do not?  I'm thinking of those

in prisons, detention centers, and over-populated cities.

Can their solitary places be imagined,

or remembered in inner space?

For the gifts of life are the earth's 

and they are given to all. . .

Namaste

 

Unsung

"Do not discount your necessity.

One act of love makes a person.

One kind word builds a whole movement.

One small, yet persistent and dependable voice 

in our lives restructures the foundation of this shared world."

Everyone matters.

Small gestures of kindness and understanding

can shift things significantly.

Let us not underestimate our power to change 

the trajectory of the moment,

the hour, the day...our life.

My motto for today?

Keep it simple, keep it true, keep it real, keep it kind.

I'm glad you're here.

Namaste

 

After I Fell

This poem significantly alters the way I'm seeing my life.

Falling is an apt metaphor for how things feel these days.

I believe this canyon of grief is something we each experience

 in different depths and contours in our own particular way...

mostly alone and mostly unseen.

"In fact,  I am not certain I am done with my falliing.  

But I do know now falling if not something to be feared."

For someone with a severe fear of heights, I'm dubious;

but willing to hear her out given what she's been through.

"This is not about flying.  It's about falling. About meeting

the gravity and feeling its force and letting it carry me 

in ways I have never let myself be carried."

This is a line the moves me out of my tight confines

into the spaciousness of what I do not know;

what I can not know.  It opens a door to realms

beyond my understanding where somehow, impossibly

all of this translates into something 

tender and mighty and amazing.

"...the canyon of grief is just another name

for living the fullest life."

Why am I so prone to avoiding grief if this is true?

I suppose because its natural to draw back from pain,

to pull away from hurt, to detour around sharp and slippery rocks,

to find another route when the road is caved in.

It's understandable to avoid what feels like it will undo us.

Like falling into an abyss with no visible bottom.

"The reward of falling is to feel how grace falls with us

as if holding our hand, like a teacher, like a friend."

This is where everything gathers...

where we are reminded grace is with us...we are not alone. 

Goodness is present and we are here together;

no matter how swiftly we are descending,

no matter how terrified and blindly enraged we feel.

This matters.

We matter.

I am holding onto grace with 

every fiber of my being.

Namaste