The Message

"It would be like looking for your own eyes."

I find this idea that what you seek is already within you

is lush, and rich with enchantment.

The paradox is a relief and a riddle...

it places our very own particular genius in sharp relief

against the backdrop of "not enough" that stalks us.

It lightens the load of constantly striving to live up

to something which already exists.  

I'm thinking ruby slippers.

 

Of Course I Have Lines On My Face

"of course i have lines on my face,

life keeps folding me open 

like a map of all the women I've been."

Wrinkles as a sign of joy...as a sign of becoming.

That's a new "wrinkle" isn't it?

I'll take it.

 

And Still

The river with its rich, fertile being and meanings

"keeps coming, touching me, passing by"

as I gather a lifetime of verses and prose.

It's uncanny how many times and in how many places

the river shows up with an encouraging air.

It's given me chills over and over to

see how it has wended its way...

quietly, softly, 

all along my journey.

"it's pale, infallible voice singing."

 

How Did You Do It?

"I’ve been wondering about all the ways we survive, 

all the things people do to adjust 

and skirt and catch a breath, 

the way everyone is managing both to rest and become."

Staying sane and civil is an accomplishment! 

Holding fast to the values we cherish. 

We resist and dissent, let our desires be known,

stand up for what we believe in and encourage each other.

"I would like to know—how do you stay awake given all this? 

What keeps you moving from one moment to the next? 

What has sustained your love  for the world?"

These are excellent questions we can mull over

and answer for ourselves and each other.

I'd be interested in hearing if you care to share.

 

Things Shouldn't Be So Hard

While this seems a wee bit bleak this morning,

"a life should leave deep tracks"

and the way she names them touched me.

"The passage of life should show; it should abrade.

And when life stops, a certain space--however small--

should be left scarred by the grand and damaging parade."

With all respect and perhaps some rose colored glasses,

I wish it didn't have to be so hard. 

My wish is that the scars and damage are places

of revelation and recognition 

of the splendor and dazzling woven in...

that's easy to wish from here,

My heart breaks for 

all the horrors some human lives

are subjected to.

It Could Be

The current state of this country and its impact on our world is

testing all I believe in regarding softness, and mercy,

 especially mercy. 

I can feel the anger swell when I think about 

mercy shown in the past and where we are today.

I’m leaning into justice. 

Merciful and appropriate justice.  

I would add just a few more things that matter:

clean water, healthy soil and unpolluted air.

Plus truth, justice and fairness.

 

Pledge Of Kindness

I will remember this poem from now on when

reciting the pledge of allegiance...

I will think of kindness when I gaze on our flag...

the one I now fly at half staff...

Yes, yes, yes to "the possibilities for which it stands"

because they are numerous and exciting to envision.

And yes, yes, yes to "one planet under the stars".  

It is our precious home and we must make certain

to care for and nourish, heal and  renew the generous bounty

we're given by her presence.

And another triple yes to "interdependent on

liberty and justice for all".

With emphasis on "for all".

 

Still, What I Want

"Casting aside the weight of facts"

 is not something I recommend 

as we're currently experiencing 

the reality and the consequences

of actually doing so.

Mary Oliver's speaking metaphorically

 and in that context, 

I understand and resonate 

with floating a little above this difficult world.  

Interesting how the intention behind 

the "casting aside of facts" alters the meaning 

and the outcome dramatically.  

The riper I become, the clearer it gets that

pretty much everything is neither all good nor all bad.

For a poet and a president to use similar words and actions

to describe stunningly opposite perspectives,

provides a precise example of the paradox.

 

We Forget

"And maybe we have to forget or we would be too stupified 

with gratitude for every raindrop and eyelash to get through the day..."

I love the phrase "stupified with gratitude". 

There are plenty of unworthy things to be stupified by, aren't there?

So let's "cast upon ourselves, a spell against indifference."

It's possible to be aware of things without succumbing to numbness

or burying our heads in the sand?

We're certainly getting plenty of opportunites to practice.

Let's "move through the world with an inner bow at every littlest thing

that prevailed against the odds of otherwise in order to exist."

Let the noise and chaos exist in its layer of temporary.

We will keep on adding layer after layer of wonder 

of what is enduring and extraordinary, 

existing in even the tiniest forms of magnificense.

 

Our Sun

Oh, how I love this.

I want to be like the sun.

I am not;

 at least not yet.

I constantly catch myself measuring...

comparing...thinking in duality....

either one or the other. 

 It does not make me proud.

"Does not choose the daffodil over the daphne,

does not care what you believe in,

what color your skin,

how colorful your credentials..."

and on and on

No walls or borders or IOU's.

"Does not choose me over you."

". . .bringing very last thing to life.

Bringing life to every last thing."

 

You Deserve

Full stop.

 

In Praise of Impermanence

This is so richly written, I hesitate adding anything but 

my grateful attention to each stanza with admiration and appreciation.

That being said, I shudder at the thought...

"the earth won't be around forever."

Followed by thinking forever is a long, long time.

It will not happen in my lifetime or my grandchildren's

or their grandchildren's.

Some of us have some trouble 

accepting impermanence.

Yet, here it is and here are we.

 

Before The War

Sometimes, Nikita's poetry guts me.

And this one did just that.

Filling my heart with goodness, 

means weaving sorrow into the tapestry 

nestled in close with glory and gratitude.

I wish it wasn't so, yet, there's no escaping it

no matter how diligently I avoid it.

I continue to carry it as it carries me.

Learning to let it flow through me,

to recognize and absorb the painful,

to feel it strong and release it 

as it moves into the river of time is the lesson.

Overcoming the temptation to turn away

without wallowing in despair is the challenge.

I'm grateful you are here.

Together we can navigate 

the wretched and wonderful

paradoxes of our lives.

 

The Book

". . .to be beautiful is also to be brief and simple, 

is to rise up and be glorious, and then vanish."

This is true in the big picture of our universe, isn't it?

It's what we, as humans are meant to be.

How I wish we could all be beautiful before we vanish...

or at least treat each other from that perspective.

"the usual daily foolishness that comes to so little

so far as the real things matter: eternity, the unseen,

the unrecognized, the filling of the heart with goodness..."

A recipe for where to focus our attention, perhaps?

My personal objective is to fill my heart with goodness.

We humans can write the story of our lives...lilies and lichen

and countless splendid entities on earth, cannot.

What if we could at least attempt to write their story for them?

Write the biography of a honey bee, a dandelion, American Columbo,

or any more-than-human being who draws us in...

the Milky Way, Venus, Pluto...

 

Chop Wood, Carry Water

I adore the simplicity of this.

Any tiny task qualifies...

"Every living being devotes their time

to the task of survival."

We are beyond fortunate...for many of us,

survival does not have to be front and center 

on our to-do list.

I deeply appreciate it doesn't have to be.

I want that privilege to belong to everyone.

"From inbreath to exhale,

 from first light to last,

prepare what keeps the fire,

gather what quenches our thirst."

What keeps your fire?

What quenches your thirst?

 

Please Tell Me A Story

Isn't this a treat?

I love the turning of everything inside out and opposite.

"Tell me a story where slivers of mental landscape 

puncture the periphery of deceit and 

shifts in the wind help to balance the 

heavy of unsettled."

Yes, we can puncture the  periphery of deceit!

Let's turn this world around.

"Tell me a story where new only translates 

what the soul knows of ancient."

I'm coming to believe ancient is not the same as old.

Ancient is the invisible and mighty power. . .

the unseen forces working for the good.

It always was and always will be.

The infinite land of soul where magic and 

enchantment become commonplace.

"where grass is fluent in sentient knowledge

and trees are a mandala of prayer."