December 15th, 2005

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Good Morning!!

This morning I am grateful for heat and a hot shower. It is still black out even though it is way after six. I am up and perky and awaiting the sun rise, even as I appreciate this darkness that allows me to feel lit, like a candle, inside.
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Jane, this morning!!

I am so touched and stroked by this poem of Jane's.
It seems like a communion wafer we all can dissolve in, and share.

I am taking a vow

to witness the earth turning toward light
and turning away
each day
like dragging a back skate to slow the glide across
childhood¹s frozen river
a way to catch the breath and hold it.

Today, not quite solstice,
as the last of autumn¹s leaves answer the wind
with rattled throats
the sunrise has no color
and stirs reluctantly beneath
its gray felt cover.
It slowly realizes the
melted yellow of
butter in a bowl of winter oats.

My surprise today is the love I taste
for shadow.
I don¹t wish to hurry toward the light
no longing draws me in spite of cold.
The blue and purple, gray-brown sift
nestles against the lea side of the house
my leg the mulberry
quiet, not asking
it offers deep forgiveness.
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My Thoughts - "Humbled"

I woke this morning, feeling I was tired of talking about myself on the blog. I thought who cares that I wore my wig to the party last night, and everyone thought it was "natural." It is not very interesting to me. Why would it be interesting to anyone else? And then, I went to write, and honor the 30 minutes of writing time paralleled with Jane. I started out okay, my usual preamble, and then, I came to, what, I believe, is for me, an important truth.  You are welcome to skip to the end.  : )


light changing -
sunrise not so clear this time of year -
no ball popping up over a hill,
or horizon,
to say “Hi! I’m here!”
subtle today,
more of a long, slow, warming hug,
reaching deeply to smile -
a Buddha smile
in all the light between
and in the cells -


warm shower today,
embrace -
I am the calm
of the droplets
touching me before they fall -
some go straight for the drain
others hop into my ears
or slide down my legs
and play with my feet -
are they like the trees
lit for the holidays
aware of something outside
what they can do -
am I the tree decorated
for just a moment
with something more
than I produce -

morsels today,
morels, with their intricate caps,
spongy, like the inside
of trees - suddenly all looks flat
compared to what lives inside  -
the fairies coming out of their beds,
the gnomes, and the elves.
I feel the living, living inside
and I see how to let all cancer go -
all cancer goes - living is strong -


stay with it now
the mind wants to wander
send and receive email -
distract -
why is it so hard to stay with this - 30 minutes - 30 -
why do I struggle so with this gift -
stay with the living -
branching -
in and out of the veins - pumping - the pump - lift and and see and smell the pump -


this morning I pop out of my body
like a worm emerging from a chewed leaf
to see the sky -
he hangs on and reaches his legs into the air -
I see the pump - the hand - the workings -
I am chief -

This image stays with me, of the caterpillar on the leaf reaching for something firm, feeling only sky.  Some legs still attached to the leaf, and others weaving the air.  There is a wonderful poem on this somewhere.  The reaching into something new, a new way to be, to speak, to share.   I want to weave in a new venue.  

My wig feels comfortable.  I am comfortable with it.  It is not fake.  What is fake?   Ego is fake.  I am not my hair.  Someone designed this wig, worked to mix colored strands so it would look natural.  I am going to title my blog "Humbled" today.  Ego says I can only wear hair that I produce, like I produce it.  Look at where the food comes from that I consume.  I eat from all over the world.  

At the party last night, I noticed limp hands, eyes that did not see me.  I was aware of those outside myself.  Isn't that is what this with the hair is allowing?   As I struggle with who I might be, I am still myself, an exciting, excited person curious about the world, and I am noticing everyone else.  I am grateful I have a wig, and I don't need it.  I like myself,  with and without the wig.  I feel exciting right now, and aware that I am you, and you are me, and wearing a wig does not make me false.  Nothing makes me false except when I denigrate myself, and say I am less than I am, and I struggle with giving myself 30 minutes to write at the same time as Jane.  That is false.  That is denying the wondrous being I am.  





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A Perfect Poem!

I'm not sure if people read the comments so I want to place the poem that Petra sent today here also.
I find it to be touchingly appropriate. 

But (Aber)- Erich Fried

At first I fell in love
with the brightness of your eyes
with your laugh
with your joy in life

Now I love your weeping too
and your fear of life
and the helplessness
in your eyes

But I will help you
with your fear
for my joy in life
is still the brightness of your eyes

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    Today, I participated in an experience of Grace.

    Daniel Polikoff, a wonderful scholar on Rilke,  teaches a monthly workshop organized by Rose Black, an enthusiastic lover of Rilke. Both Daniel and Rose are amazing poets in their own right. The workshop this year is titled "Soul of the Word," so, perhaps that gives you an idea of the content. We are working with recognizing, honoring and integrating spirit, soul, and body.

    I am appalled at my ignorance of religion, and, yet, how, despite my ignorance,  I have been influenced by it.  How pervasive is what comes down to us, even though it relates, as we know, to nothing of Christ, and, to little of what came before.

    One thing, we focused on today was the execution of a man in a country that is professing Christian values. What happened to the Commandment, "Thou shalt not kill." The commandments are clear,  and not difficult to honor. "Thou shalt not kill."  The hypocrisy astounds.

    I learned today that Advent colors are solemn colors. Advent was a time for retreat, a mini-Lent, a time to introspect on the ending of the year.  Then, there was the bursting forth into Christmas, twelve days of Christmas, as the celebration continued for 12 days, until the Epiphany. No wonder we feel jarred with all this light and carrying on, right now when we are meant to go within, and reflect.  With artificial lights, we cannot see the stars. 

    Daniel spoke of only using candlelight for meals this time of year. That, I intend to do.  That way I can better appreciate and honor this gift of darkness.   In the winter in Norway, all is candlelight.  I honor my Norwegian grandmother with candlelight now.  

     He also spoke of Holy Saturday, the day between Good Friday, and the Resurrection on Sunday. Saturday was the descent to the Underworld, to the Mother. No wonder we struggle so in this society with visiting the Underworld, with looking at our shadow. Religion took away a major part of the myth, the part where we go deeply within, to the earth of our own matter,  so we can then return fruit to the light.

    Also, it seems that regarding Mother Mary that "Immaculate Conception" means pure soul. The Bible is not espousing a virgin birth. All of this comes about because we were discussing one of Rilke's lesser read works, "The Young Workman's Letter." It is quite something to read.  I recommend it.  I apologize for decimating it, by pulling out a few segments to intice you inside.

    Here is a paragragh with five metaphors.  See how easily Rilke carries us through the use of metaphor.

    "I cannot conceive that the cross should remain, which was, after all, only a cross-roads.  It certainly should not be stamped on us on all occasions like a brand-mark.  For it is the situation not this: he intended simply to provide the loftier tree, on which we could ripen better.  He, on the cross, is this new tree in God, and we were to be warm, happy fruit, at the top of it."

    I search through for something else to share but it seems blasphemy to pull it apart.   Rilke forsees.  He leads. 

    Eat by candlelight tonight!