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,

delighted,

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.