Tuesday, November 24, 2015

giving thanks

Sometimes I feel I have lost contact with that voice that was rising, 
active in words
Or with that feeling that was rising,
active in color.
I hear other’s voices saying what I am saying
I read passages of wisdom and remember the views I held to be so true.

The expressive nature of the creative has a rhythm.
Rather than doubting its presence,
Now I move with it.

I wake early these days.
I saw the light appear in the dark sky this morning
soon the sun shining on the far mountains, through the trees,
and I was so surprised,
to be awake to this day’s beginning.

There are practical things that need to be done
Each move toward them ensures a completion of the task.
I can be practical, too.

I remember walking into a day 
months ago
Feeling the unknown
as formidable. 
Feeling the ever so slight fear of life
And stepping into that day,
Like a doorway it was,
And knowing I had felt courage, too.

There were moments before that, 
Feelings of a shattering of a sort,
The weight of not knowing,
Before it was known as freedom,
of dying while being reborn.

I planted a garden 
And tended it
Slowly at first
Realizing how deeply nourishing that was
To putter in the dirt, to weed,
Just to be there,
Seeing what could be done.
I returned day after day.

the garden grew 
and I tasted freshness again.

I asked myself 
in 2006
…...like yesterday 
it always feels just like yesterday…..
I asked myself

When did being here now begin?

So many fine and awkward movements have spilled me deeper into this life current.

A slight movement 
In any direction

And it’s as if I was always here.

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

the crone

recognize the crone 
she has been holding this treasure
of herself 
as life
waiting to share it 
with you
in her quiet moving
day by day

night through night.