August 15th, 2016

Mt. Tamalpais

Poetry!

This weekend I participated in a poetry workshop led by John Fox and Janet Childs. Here is information on both:

http://www.poeticmedicine.com

http://blog.sevenponds.com/professional-advice/what-is-the-centre-for-living-with-dying-program-an-interview-with-janet-childs

I sit here now this morning, changed. I had let poetry slip away with me, have been working with writing a book, working very left-brain, and I forgot the magic of words, the poetry. I am grateful to John, Janet, and the others in the group.

Poems are flowing now. Heart energy is tapped.


John Fox shared with us the Seven Gifts of Poetry. I offer them to you now. Feel how your heart is touched, the heart in each and every cell.

The Seven Gifts from John Fox, CPT, from Seven Gifts: Poetry as a Pathway for Renewal.

1. Poetry and poem-making offer a renewal - the discovery of meaning and connection.

2. Poetry and poem-making provide a way to sharpen your practice of mindfulness.

3. There is a physical, somatic component of poetry's healing action.

4. Poetry and poem-making offer a sense of magic and imagination.

5. Poetry and poem-making are a way of asking questions, where the question is not in search of an answer. The question is asking to be held.

6. Poetry and poem-making are a catalyst for relationships infused with compassion, vulnerability and courage.

7. Poetry and poem-making create something meaningful to be shared with another. We are made bigger and renewed by such sharing.

oregon, willamette, 1 proxy falls

Rumi!

A road might end at a single house,
But it is not love’s road.
Love is a river.
Drink from it.

- Jelaluddin Rumi
Bald Eagle

William Stafford -

The poems and integrity of William Stafford came up many times in the poetry workshop of this weekend. Tonight, I sit and read his words over and over, with intention to embody and wake.

A Ritual to Read to Each Other

BY WILLIAM E. STAFFORD


If you don't know the kind of person I am
and I don't know the kind of person you are
a pattern that others made may prevail in the
world
and following the wrong god home we may miss
our star.

For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,
a shrug that lets the fragile sequence break
sending with shouts the horrible errors of
childhood
storming out to play through the broken dike.

And as elephants parade holding each
elephant's tail,
but if one wanders the circus won't find the
park,
I call it cruel and maybe the root of all cruelty
to know what occurs but not recognize the fact.

And so I appeal to a voice, to something
shadowy,
a remote important region in all who talk:
though we could fool each other, we should
consider—
lest the parade of our mutual life get lost in the
dark.

For it is important that awake people be awake,
or a breaking line may discourage them back to
sleep;
the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —
should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.