December 22nd, 2005

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Good Morning!

I wake before 5 this morning, and somehow it is light. I can see outside. Perhaps it was the darkness that I stayed with yesterday, the staying with candlelight that sensitized my eyes. I begin with meditation, and through that, feel how stiff I am. I am barely breathing. I have not been moving much since this happened, and so, I begin to move my neck, then follow my body, and where it wants, where I want, to go. I begin to let myself feel that I have cancer that has metastized. I had been avoiding the words, but reading Ram Dass yesterday, I realized that it is important to feel what is going on for me. I am not sad about it, just feeling it. After all, he is very clear on what I already figured out. I am not this body, and yet, this body is in pain right now. My hands and feet are sore. Cuts don't heal. I want to wear gloves like we wore when we were children when we dressed up, with white socks, gloves, and holiday hats. Well, I am wearing hats, though my look is more elf, than elegant. I was so thrilled to be rid of the rituals of hats and gloves, and now, I want the protection of them, the safety, the hug. My hands feel too sensitive for the light, my head too tender for heat and cold.

Again, I feel an awakening, a noticing. Can I care for this body that harbors my spirit and soul while I'm here? I have gone obediently along with the program, while also, reading all I could and asking relevant questions. I feel I am involved in my healing, and, yet, this morning, I feel there is a little more I can do. I can move, and more fully feel what is true for me.

I kept struggling with that I am not "sick," and yet, I really didn't feel well, so what am I? What is going on? This morning I get a small handle on that. I just am. In this moment, I am sitting at the computer in a long, white nightgown, with a silly hat on my head, listening to the wind. Just that, enough, for me to know and feel.
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re-considering -

I look back at what I just wrote. Perhaps, I am sick. I still have a cold and a cough. Just that, might be considered sick, and yet, there is something about the regimen of all of this, that is confusing to me. I also think it is important to feel well, and so, I do feel well. I don't like the word "sick," and yet, as I say, I think it may be important for me to feel today that I do have cancer, and that it is being dealt with, and that this is not a mistake, that the medical profession and my insurance company are not doing all this just for fun, and that, yes, I will be fine, and most probably have another 30 years, and that this was scary. I think I can let myself feel that this morning, how very scary this is. I know that in feeling it, it won't be scary anymore, but, perhaps this morning it has been good to somewhat feel what I have been through in the last three months, and so, it is. Today, is the day of the return of the light. I spin there, rotating, like a planet, in the lovely cyclical breeze.
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Potential -

Ah, potential, falling downhill - that energy of ease, harnessed.

Today, my free flow, perhaps has potential, and it is unharnessed.  I offer it anyway, because there is nothing in me right now able to bring it to form.  I am feeling called to Muir Woods.  I must see if the salmon are there.  I feel their spirits calling me to come see, so I plop all this right here, and you can see what calls to you, and I will honor what calls to me.  The salmon.  I pray they are moving upstream to breed.

December 22, 2005  

I light a candle this morning,
feeling such a need
for burning
precious light -
sit quietly now with what is to come -
eyes struggle today -
I see when the lights are off,
but on is confusing -
I honor the dark - what I can’t see within -

If I stay in the dark long enough,
I’ll light where I begin -



Let's Just Jump

Let’s just jump
into what is there
piles of leaves,  loaves of snow,
breasts rising on the breath of air -
Let’s jump
into what is there -
Let’s plump
on the curve of the pear -


Thirty Minutes

Ah, this time - can I stay awake
I keep wanting to fall back to sleep -
Stay awake,
on the curve of the light,
cutting right there -
stay awake
on the nerve
as it flares,
stay right there,
where night
is borne
as it dares
to poke,
rods and cones
to rake  - up and down,
in and out -
can you curve
the response
to share what is there
when your eyes are jostled,
to notice
what pares
the weight
of your bones,
to signal
what sighs
when you’re bare -
bare light,
no tangle
of cords extending
vibration away from life -
light a candle -
feel the flame  -
light is not meant to cage in wires,
like guinea pigs - bars -

Let your light be  the tree
in the field,
a ballet,
a song, the flight of birds
as they wheel vibration
in the joyful leaps
of play -
be light
signaling the dark
to blaze -



Birds fly wheelbarrows of light,
back and forth they go,
their song,
the tongues
that turn the wheels
as wings turn flight



plow the fields of darkness now,
they hold the wheels of light,
the seeds that opened, glide,
to heights,
feed there,
please eat,
ignite -




how to take all the above and make one simple poem that flames -
the match to the candle -
the eye to the frame -


Instead to Muir Woods, I go.
I must see if the salmon have come,
to breed,
to tell me,
we have not done too much harm this year -
I need to know there is hope
for all with whom we share
this beautiful planet earth -
To Muir Woods, I am called, and, so,
I muster the energy, and go.  



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Form -

I do understand the value of form. It allows the banks of the stream to hold the treasure we use for bathing, irrigation, cooking, power.

And today, I feel formless, a need to morph, to move, to find what my form is now. I am feeling a bit like a salamander. I'll see what Muir Woods springs forth in me. I had hoped to not be caught in the rain, but it seems I will be as wet as the salmon in the stream. That's fair, it seems! : )

Jane reminded me of a book today that I love. It is called "In Praise of Shadows." I highly recommend it. It is lovely to keep in the bathroom to read while you savor letting go, and seeing light through paper, and honoring what flushes the day.
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I found what I went for -

My goodness, you people stay atop my blog.  : )

I returned to many messages from people questioning that I actually went to Muir Woods today.  Yes, I did, and it was wondrous.  I was given what I needed.   My search is, in this moment, complete. 

Driving out there in the fog and rain,  I contemplated this talk, and/or goal of  “reaching our core,”  of “going deeper.”  What would that  be?   What does it mean?   ( I nod to Mudita here.)

I suddenly realized that everything opens into something else, into everything else.  There is no deeper;  there is no core.  

The center of the diamond doesn’t say I’m core to the outside of the jewel.   There is no core to a crystal.  The Family Circles of Redwoods don’t feel their core is missing, because the main redwood died leaving a root system to nourish the whole.   Penguins move in and out of a circle of warmth.   All is.  It just is.  All is moving, and there is no clearly defined core to try and catch and hold.  

Wow!  That is such a relief for me. 

And I am not sick, for I am not experiencing dis-ease.  I am at peace.   I am whole.  I am all aspects of the diamond, the redwoods, the creek, the salmon, you and me. 

I needed to know the salmon were there, because, for me, it meant I would get well.  Their return symbolizes rejuvenation to me.  The creek today was like a class five river.  There were rapids and it was rushing brown, and I was told the salmon are there, but I wouldn’t see them.

I realized this is how it feels to my blood stream when the chemo is pushed in, rapids, and I am given steroids, so I don’t realize, but I “got” why I am so tired on Wednesday and Thursday.  Look at what I have been through.  And there is a time to rest.  The salmon aren’t pushing up-stream today against all that current.  They are tucked in.  They will come out when it makes sense. 

I stand in a tree at Muir Woods.  I return to nature’s balance.  Now, I can handle the buzzing of the bees that we are.

Wordsworth said that “Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillilty.”  Perhaps one day I will turn my words on a lathe of tranquillity.  For now, they flow downstream, like the current of my beloved Redwood Creek in Muir Woods. 



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being with the rain -

I feel myself tapped by the sound of the, in these moments, ever-present rain, and, in this moment, I do feel I have a core, and the core unifies me with you. I am not feeling movement in this moment, am feeling rather anchored in the warmth of my house where the heater is steaming away as I struggle for warmth. I bundle in wool. I feel like a sheep.

I picked up a little book today at Muir Woods as I inhaled the smoke from the wood-stove fire. It is by Joseph Cornell and is called "With Beauty Before Me."

Cornell writes: "A teacher in the Southwest once asked the children in his class to draw a picture of themselves. He recalled, "The American children completely covered the paper with a drawing of their body, but my Navajo students drew themselves very differently. They made their bodies much smaller and included the nearby mountains, canyon walls, and dry desert washes. To the Navajo, the environment is as much a part of who they are as their own arms and legs."

It is a lovely way to consider ourselves as we listen to the fall of the rain.
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Celebrate -

Celebrate the good news on the Arctic Refuge victory, Utah Wilderness protection, and the White House backing down on the Patriot Act. Celebrate the return of sanity and the light.