December 7th, 2005

Book Cover

Poem!

Hari Bhajan publishes a weekly on-line poetry journal which I enjoy.

Here is a poem by D. H. Lawrence that hits me just right today.


Elemental

Why don’t people leave off being lovable
Or thinking they are lovable, or wanting to be lovable,
And be a bit elemental instead?

Since man is made up of the elements
Fire, and rain, and air, and live loam
And none of these is lovable
But elemental,
Man is lop-sided on the side of the angels.

I wish men would get back their balance among the elements
And be a bit more firey, as incapable of telling lies
As fire is.
I wish they’d be true to their own variation, as water is,
Which goes through all the stages of steam and stream and ice
Without losing its head.

I am sick of lovable people.
Somehow they are a lie.

D. H. Lawrence
Book Cover

Jane's poem -

Jane calls this an Ode to me -
I bow my head deeply at her touch.
My insides swell in the warmth of her words, care, and communion of love.


Jane:



If you can sit and write today then so can I


I¹m not filled with an epic inner battle
(or if I am I don¹t yet know it)
I'm feeling good in the way
that let's me ignore my body
except for the minor pains reminding me
I have one - the ear that throbs, the wrist joint.
aching from the cold

the old ways are creeping back
getting up early
not to greet the sun or stretch
with the yellow cat and siamese
in a gentle wakening
not so there is time to sit
with the minutes and the breath
as each one forms and fills and passes
slowly when I notice them

so when the phone rang
and it was you I was surprised
even though we planned it
You reach out and pull me up
through my confusion
eager for the air and words
like handing me a cup of coffee
piece of buttered toast
and saying this is the body take and eat
this is the time of your life.
Remember.
Book Cover

My Morning Poetry Flow!

December 7, 2005

 

Beginning

 

Wild Blueberry Juice

          begins my day.

I picture wild blueberries,

running like stallions in the wind,

and wonder how they are captured,

when their manes spread so long and thick,

waving deep blue tint through the lighter blue of sky -

Somewhere they are caught and squished

          to an essence

          I sip,

          as anti-oxidants freely rein in oxidents,

          corraling carefully what belongs,

          and kicking out the rest.

 

 

 

Balance

 

I feel zippy this morning,

calmly zippy, like a wild horse

kicking up his heels slowly,  

carefully,

a flamenco dance perhaps,

calypso,

dancing on the hill,

as the sun comes up,

welcoming,

the slide of the moon

to the side -

Two arms balance

day and night and tide -

 

 

          Caw Caw

Crows fly in twos today
         up in the morning sky -
                 darts
        
practicing to bull’s eye
                 the sun
           
with its bright-pink rise

 

 

          Content

 
hmmmm - no-mind
how long can it last
this place of contentment
like the breast of the swan
as it glides on the glass
of the lake
mirroring the trees
and the sun

 

 

          Om

 
focus the chemo mind
so expanded out into seas
and blinds
not wanting to be here
wanting more to sit cleared,
for take-off
in a sky
unbuttoned,
no buttons,
the shirt removed,
the body gone,
only,
stepping
into
softly
where
no
cotton
has gone,
no cotton,
fleece,
or wool.
The steps are before
plant and animal,
the word -
In the beginning was the word -
not here in chemo world - om -
om steps to the right
on the keyboard from in -
to the right -
the intuitive side -
begin -

 

 

          Begin

 

I hold mind on a line
and fly like a kite
in a sky I align.
The borders are mine
to define
as I bridge what ties
and unties
the puppetry
of all our lines.
They strand
from hands and thighs
woven strongly,
above our heads
by our own eyes,
ideas,
and glides.  
Make your world!
Fly your kite!
Reach down for life.
Lift up to wave
your strings,
and tickle mine.
Laughter glues me to you.
Let’s dance in two’s, and three’s, and alls,
weaving all we be - to a beat
that rocks the stars,
in a pulse,  met within.
Feel the neurons rock,
the glial and neural cells increase,
and the synapses reach
in the tangled embrace of love.
Love, love - what else can all this exuberance
and connection be, but love?
Look round!  Can you believe it?
Everywhere, everything, dancing in love.
Yesterday, I holiday shopped,
and ended up dancing with the women in the store,
foot forward, side, and back; It’s as easy as that.
Bend your knees in this world we live in,
and bounce mightily on the laps and legs of Love. 
Abundance surrounds us.  Abound in the sweet tooth of touch,
within and without.


Sing and dance love, now and now, and now!!
Up and down, full Life, Full Love!

 

 

Book Cover

Goethe - "Happy only is the soul that loves."

Petra sends us Goethe today -
Ah, how beautiful are these words, how comforting as we move through the often rapidly changing currents of our days.





Freudvoll                         Joyful
Und leidvoll,                         and painful,
Gedankenvoll sein,                 Thoughtful,
Langen                                 Longing
Und bangen                         and trembling
In schwebender Pein,                 in hovering torment
Himmelhoch jauchzend,                 now shouting in triumph,
Zum Tode betrübt -                 now sunk in despair
Glücklich allein                         Happy only
Ist die Seele, die liebt.                  is the soul that loves.

Book Cover

more thoughts - oh, my! : )

I am reading Ajahn Brahm's book, "Who Ordered This Truckload of Dung?"

Dung is a very good thing, as we all know. What is better than fertilizer and compost, except for the flowers which then poke forth from all that rich nourishment?

One chapter in Brahm's book is titled, "What's wrong with being sick?"

Well, I raised myself to believe I had failed if I was sick. My positive thoughts "should" keep me well.

He points out that "Whenever you preceive sickness as something wrong, you add unnecessary stress, even guilt, on top of the unpleasantness." He asks "How many of us are made to feel guilty when we are sick?"

He writes of a sick monk, who wept when he was given permission to die, for he had felt like such a failure for not getting better when all his friends were there in such support of him, and desire for him to be well.

Permission given to die, he didn't need to struggle to please his friends; the release allowed him to cry, and he lived.

I'm not asking for permission to die, but I am seeing more and more that surrender to what is, is the key to my healing in this.

My father died in an accident when I was 19, and my brother was 15. The shock was beyond imagining, and yet, we always felt him close and protective of us, and when my mother joined him this last February, we both felt them joined together in much-deserved delight.

We feel them flitting here, and there, and enjoying a wide expansive use of energy and light, and yet, my brother has felt concern that this with me might be too hard on them, and, they might have needed to leave for a bit, and I have felt they see a wider view of it.

My brother this morning, sent this:

"Also, right after I'd sent you the email the other day where I said I felt our parents had moved on... I was out in the front yard with the dogs and it was so quiet with all the snow on the ground and in the trees and then the dogs heard something before I did and looked up at the sky. Then I heard it too, the gentle distant honking of a flock of geese. They were flying very low and coming right in the direction of our house and flying in a perfect "V", except that; picture the right side of the "V" being about 30 geese long and angling to the right a bit. And the left side being only about 12 geese long and angling to the left. It was like the most beautiful two parted, asymmetrical bow or something and, again, they were so close you could almost feel them. And it was easy to imagine it being a message of Boop and Dad flying over head together, if you were inclined to do so."

I am so touched.
Of course, I am inclined to do so.
My parents, Our parents, All children and parents are here!
The world is rich with intent, and I feel well, whole, healed, and held by you all, whether in this world, the previous, or next.
Book Cover

tis raining -

raining, inside and out

 
how sad to be with the falling of hair
no matter how much I thought I prepared
I feel sad as I feel it slide through my fingers
to fall into the shower,
I pick up the clump from the drain -
pubic hair, too -
I knew and still it feels so hard to absorb
this softness leaving my body
my body softening inside out
and outside in
to absorb even more
of the love
that surrounds me now -