The World Asks

What are your thoughts on this?

I confess, my first response is resentment.

Why must we always be asked for more?

And who's asking for it?

Dignity?  Decency?  Goodness?

Ok, I get that. 

And I get that we have more strength than we realize.

And we do keep giving it because we are decent people.

At the same time, I wish for good people being replenished

and respected, and rewarded for all they continue to give.

That's where things become truly amazing 

because good people don't expect or request that.

They find them in the daily delights they learn to lean on

when things are hard and heavy. They find joy 

in their generosity and know how to care for themselves and each other.

That is the marvel...the magnificence.

I am so very grateful for those who answer the call for goodness

and spread their energy to others,

no matter who is making the call.

Namaste

 

Mum Is The Word

"the members seek implicit permission not to speak,

not to answer or to answer for, not to pose

chat, persuade or expound."

Can you imagine attending such a meeting?

I know I would want to chat...at least a little bit.

How else can we get to know each other?

By facial expressions and body language?

"Minutes are read silently and tacitly approved."

Reading silently together intrigues me .

I've heard there are clubs who do this.

Everyone brings their book and they sit

together reading silently.

I would find it nearly impossible not to speak

about what I was reading.  I love the 

process of sharing with others and

hearing their thoughts...up to a point.

That's where the practice of patience is pertinent.

"Podium and gavel have been banned,

indeed are viewed as weaponry.

 A microphone? The horror."

No one "in charge"?

No facilitator to guide the proceedings?

 I'd like to think this was possible, yet

I'm having a hard time imagining it.

I can think of so many settings where

it would be catastrophic.

My favorite line:

"After the tone, listen."

And the singular, most important word,

in my view is: LISTEN.

And with that I wish you

a quiet, listening namaste.

 

Baggage Claim

There is so much heart in this poem.

"Some of us worked harder, like your heart back then,

carried your case to Senators and secretaries,

anyone who'd listen, beating doors, spelling it out

until they let you in."

These lines choke me up...there are so many places

to direct this kind of energy, and together we

are doing it over and over and over again.

This whole poem chokes me up, over and over.

"Iran's gone dark, and you have long since vanished from the news.

4 months old then, you'd be 9 now if you'd thrived."

Things are much worse in Iran than what we are going through.

"If your heart fails yet again, and you dream of sanctuary,

any hint of a heart left in this country we once believed we knew,

you will find us next to the free lawyers in baggage claim...

our arms wide open."

Like I said earlier, this chokes me up.  

How can such an incredibly good group of citizens

 be at the mercy of such heartless leaders?

We cannot give up...we must recalibrate and

correct the wrongs being committed in our name.

We must recover from damaged hearts.

We are mighty in numbers and we are accomplishing this, together.

Namaste

 

Maybe Death Isn't Darkness

This is so deeply mystical, I'm not sure any commentary is necessary.

"Maybe death is an energetic tide rising

& rising to meet the sacred breath of the universe."

There is something appealing about 

merging our essence with the universe.

Similar to becoming soil.

"Maybe it is what meets us 

at our deepest depth,

an inteminable silence

illuminating the body from within...

I'd like to think this might be possible while alive.

Namaste

 

The Flourishing To Come

I've thought of this "planting seeds in Minnesota"

many times since reading it; trying to think of ways

I can do the same here in NC.

We can see the seeds growing and thriving can't we?

Personally, I welcome them becoming invasive.

Turning the bare spots in my heart into a lush green.

Supressing weeds of hate, cruelty, and hierarchical systems.

As the time to plant seeds comes closer, or has already

risen in indoor gardens, the metaphor becomes stronger 

and even more beautiful.

"Imagine the beauty if even half these seeds take."

More and more people planting seeds of kindness,

compassion, community, ferocity....filling our

homes, landscapes, streets, alleys, industrial parks,

and business centers, with generous jewelweed, 

with open-handed oranges, with lavish lilies,

 heartwarming hepatica, bountiful blood root 

and benevolent bluets.

Wouldn't that be something?

"Imagine all that goodness reseeding,

spreading like wildflowers.

It would be like a pandemic of plenty,

an epidemic of equality.

a jungle of true justice for all.

Namaste

 

 

Fact Checking

 "How many other stories do I trust every day

not thinking to look them up?"

My husband always double checks everything.

When he applies this to what I share on social media and

points out when it's wrong, it irritates me no end.

Mostly because he's correct which means I

made a mistake in passing along misinformation. 

It's an ego thing. I hate when I make mistakes.

"The world has never been swampier.

The need to check what we're told is great."

Isn't this the truth?  We are being invaded 

by numerous master manipulators. Rearranging

facts to suit their false narratives, gaslighting

and pointing fingers unaware that four of the five 

point back at them.

One in particular comes to mind.  

"Face him.  Raise your arms.  Back away slow.

Don't turn your back is you can help it.

They look more like people than you think."

I love the irony! Who's the gator?

What To Do In The Darkness

"Go slowly."

This is superb advice in almost any circumstance.

I'm finding, at this advanced juncture, that even when

I'm late and hurrying so as not to keep someone waiting,

 this counsel is most helpful.

"Consent to it

But don't wallow in it

(I'm holding myself back from adding punctuation)

Consent to it feels different from accept it, doesn't it?

It adds a sense of agency and openness to discovery of something unknown.

It naturally follows to. . .

"Know it as a place of germination 

and growth"

Personally, this is where patience appears 

and asks to be practiced.

"Remember the light"

May our memory be strong enough

to remind us of light filled moments throughout life.

"Take an outstretched hand 

if you find one"

And if you don't, trust yourself. 

Take care of your precious self.

"Exercise unused senses"

Listening comes to mind,

as does feeling what's happening

inside my body...something I tend to ignore.

Find the path by walking it

Feel your way...by touch

and by instinct.

"Practice trust

Watch for dawn"

From time spent lying awake at night,

I want to add patience to the practice of trust.

And watch for dawn like we're watching for goodness.

They are both dependable; dawn being predictable,

while goodness is random and often a surprise.

Namaste

NOTE: I had another post prepared for today and rejected it.Here is the link if you want to take a look. 

 Be forewarned...I would not consider it uplifting. 

 

And Then To Fly Over It

I'm having to sit with this a bit. . .

it brings to mind Betty Midler singing "From A Distance"*

"To fly over is to over look, not to take in the unnecessary...

or fret about what might lie underneath."

It's one way of seeing things.  Sometimes, overlooking is wise.

Other times, overlooking is dangerous and ill advised.

I think we all know examples of each situation, don't we?

"Which might look like forgiveness.  

Which is, of course, another word for love."

If God exists, which is for each of us to decide, 

I would not want to be him or her regarding forgiveness

in these days of heartless cruelty and abandonment 

of truth, decency and justice for all.

If being God means forgiving everything and

in turn loving all, I'm at a loss to understand

how that is remotely possible under these circumstances.

That being said, it is deeply appealing to consider

being forgiven (and loved) despite the unloving and indecent

things I have done throughout my life...in thought, word and deed.

Which makes this a giant, uncomfortable conundrum.

I can feel my defense team coming out blazing 

with an argument about degrees of harm done to others.

This conundrum is so strong, I may have to find something else to share.

*From a Distance

Song by 

Bette Midler

From a distance, the world looks blue and green
And the snow-capped mountains white
From a distance, the ocean meets the stream
And the eagle takes to flight

From a distance, there is harmony
And it echoes through the land
It's the voice of hope
It's the voice of peace
It's the voice of every man

From a distance, we all have enough
And no one is in need
And there are no guns, no bombs, and no disease
No hungry mouths to feed

From a distance, we are instruments
Marching in a common band
Playing songs of hope
Playing songs of peace
They're the songs of every man

God is watching us. . .From a distance

From a distance, you look like my friend
Even though we are at war
From a distance, I just cannot comprehend
What all this fighting's for

From a distance, there is harmony
And it echoes through the land
And it's the hope of hopes
It's the love of loves
It's the heart of every man (every man)

God is watching us. . .From a distance

 

Dark Brightness

Isn't this a beautiful thought; a beautiful activity?

Maybe its just that simple?  

"Turning down the glare becoming a blessing. . ."

Cutting each other some slack...giving the tiny benefit of the doubt.

Seeing past the nonsense to the dignity underneath the bravado.

Chuckling with respect at differences as if only minor inconveniences?

"a caring for a passing stranger to be passed on to someone else,

a blinding light/ [noise] lowered allowing us to see [hear] what really matters.

all of us do, everyone, every one...

May we each turn down the glare and the noise; 

may we see and hear what really matters; 

May we realize and live as if Every. One. Matters.

Namaste

 

Keep Marching

These are the lyrics to a song you can listen to here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPyKqoRKT8g

"If the work is never over, how do you keep marching anyway?

Do you carry your banner as far as you can, 

. . .Til the next stubborn girl picks it up in a picket line?

These lyrics opened my eyes to how long the fight for equality

has been going on and how mistaken I have been to expect

that we will get the job done and it will exist forever.

(I did absolutely believe this when Obama was our President.)

The contrast to what we have now is devastating.

"rewriting the world with your imperfect pen?"

I LOVE this line.

When I consider all the imperfect pens across the globe

doing their best to rewrite the world, I get choked up.

It makes me grateful for independent journalists 

who are laboring to bring us the truth with no where near

adequate compensation or safety.

The same goes for the poets and artists who

inspire us by reminding us of what we are working for.

"Cause your ancestors are all the proof you need

that progress is possible, not guaranteed

Make peace with our incomplete power

and use it for good cause there's so much to do."

When I think of how many young humans

have given their lives in the fight for freedom,

and how many times their sacrifice has been 

taken for granted and misused for power and profit

there is no way I cannot "keep on marching."

"The gains will feel small and the losses too large

You'll rarely agree with whoever's in charge.

Yes the world can be changed, we've done it before. . .

The future demands that we fight for it now."

Knowing what my brothers and sisters of color

have endured throughout history is unbearable.

I am in awe of the resilience, creativity and fortitude

they must have to keep on believing in goodness and joy.

It astonishes and encourages me to my core.

Let us keep on marching for what we believe in.

Equality, truth, justice and decency.

We're in this together and we are doing this!

Thanks to you for being here.

Namaste

 

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.