Category Archives: Creating

Ancient and known

08 Tuesday May 2018

Posted by in break out, community, Creating, honoring, nature, peace, poems, poetry, transition, work

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What name can be given

to soul hunger for nature,

for bodily starvation of slow rhythms ancient

and known?

Waking, sleeping, sunrise, moonset,

yes

even in the most stricken times we can find ourselves there

part of the ever-larger cosmos,

not pinned tight to trivia and misbehaviors.

But

skin suffers thirst for soil-

this hard concrete place rebounding with noise

can’t feed what does not eat the civilized.

Sit down with me, here,

let’s break sidewalk together,

chip away until earth smiles again at sky-

silent seeds await their patient growth into trees.

Born hungry

16 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by in abundance, adventure, becoming, break out, Creating, discomfort, fearlessness, freedom, learning, movement, poems, poetry, Sight

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A princess in the tower,

at a distance looking down,

wishing

and kept.

How to get out? How to get away?

Desperate for rescue, a puddle of tears

and fury.

Why me? This terror and despair.

But, one sunrise, a light switches,

the kaleidoscope shifts,

her untapped power surges

along with the sight that she is on the inside.

An inside most would never know.

Following the sun

with fingertips searching slowly

the walls that keep her,

Somewhere, like the chink in the dragon’s scales,

a crack in stone

will bring the first ray of wisdom,

and freedom for which she was born

hungry.

Status quo

20 Tuesday Feb 2018

Posted by in aging, becoming, break out, change, courage, Creating, family, fearlessness, Found, freedom, learning, movement, poems, poetry, release, the road

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A conditioning of impotence,

reaching for the salt when another swipes it first,

mounting silence in heavy boots, step upon step,

crags of volcanic history ignored by all

but you.

Buttons pop in flights of frustration,

and the weight of carrying baggage,

generations of status quo,

threatens to break your back

until

the ludicrous heart-heaviness and surge

for a real place in family becomes visible

for the impossibility it is.

Pitching the straps off your shoulders,

searing sight of that graveyard of the forgotten

rising skyward

into memory, you shake your head

at the Sisyphean absurdity,

turn around

and walk away.

The naked Emperor

26 Friday Jan 2018

Posted by in becoming, break out, change, Creating, family, learning, movement, poems, poetry, release, song, words

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To what cost,

this silence?

Protecting normal, the naked Emperor,

who rots your bones of its mineral support,

your heart of its song,

your pelvis of its dancing motion,

your mouth of its natural speech.

Stop pretending.

And, with it, generations of loss.

Open the vault.

You may find yourself alone.

But the outcome

will be possession of your own soul.

Gnarls & knots

09 Tuesday Jan 2018

Posted by in aging, beauty, becoming, Creating, Immortal, nature, poems, poetry

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Gnarls and knots-

twistings of difficulty and experience

train the tree toward ancient mastery.

R i n g s

spread in stilled ripples-

water’s character in wood.

Toes wrap in dark, salted earth below,

fingers stretch through blue air above.

In storm, drought and calm

echo countless ancestral voices

from forests long ago gone.

Facing sunrise

18 Monday Sep 2017

Posted by in abundance, adventure, aging, beauty, becoming, break out, change, Creating, gratitude, honoring, learning, light, movement, poems, poetry, release, the road

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Memories are being given away,

space no longer for rent to the unwelcome.

A wooden chair with woven seat sits now

facing sunrise.

Closets have been emptied, drawers cleared out

and sold.

Neither vacancy nor void, but place has opened,

safe, dynamic, light and warm.

If suffering

10 Friday Mar 2017

Posted by in becoming, courage, Creating, devotion, honoring, learning, Love, movement, mundane, poems, poetry, release, the road, wonder, work

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If suffering is the path laid down for us, by us

stone by stone,

How might we love

not only each one but

the trying burden of laying them

on the surface of this Earth

(could as easily be the moon. still, it’s not)

for our own feet to walk upon?

If meaning is found

simply

in carrying our suffering

in devotion

– not as martyr, but pilgrim

with full unknowing of why,

or even how-

to the making of a life,

by virtue of its having been given,

then

might we lean into the expectations

life holds for us

and do right by them

by our own true Selves-

that Essence buried

beneath all the heaviness requiring our backs, hearts, hands

which knows what it is

to burn brightly

for no reason

what

so

ever?

.

.

* with thanks to Viktor Frankl

The women speak

21 Saturday Jan 2017

Posted by in abundance, adventure, beauty, change, Creating, Expanse, listen, movement, mystery, nature, poems, poetry, vision, weaving

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The women speak

and dogs lay down side by side,

cats walking railings sit in spots full of sun,

the cursed dust no longer cursed 

becomes, finally, nutrient moving

from here to there.

(Trees nod slowly in recognition.)

The women speak

and silence begins again to be known-

an expansion from where

the most needed, sassy ideas rise.

The women speak,

and our planet shakes off a yoke

we think we’ve set around Her neck.

The women speak,

hummm, yes, listen.

Someones of Somethingdom

07 Saturday Jan 2017

Posted by in abundance, break out, courage, Creating, Expanse, Infinite, learning, mystery, nature, poems, poetry, release, wonder, work

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Those pesky brains,

the ones making a someone of a something-

who’s been serving them the kool-aid?

Settle them down before we cart them off

wearing special white outfits complete with ties

they can not undo.

We’ve categorized, cauterized, organized, familiarized 

until the ize of the horizon is known.

Imagining may be cute when your feet are small

but now we must grow up-

taller, smarter, firmer in stance and action;

Up-standing people further things, uphold things-

We are the Someones of Somethingdom.

Reality has a timeline, afterall.

And, then, while we adhere and cohere 

we’ll do something silly like have a child

who will see all we won’t

and giggle until she’s sideways

leaving at least one of us to wonder

just what exactly brings that spark to her eyes

and rolling thunder to her tiny, mirthful belly…

(Go ahead, It says- research that.)

The new year

01 Sunday Jan 2017

Posted by in abundance, adventure, courage, Creating, dark, devotion, Expanse, learning, light, mystery, poems, poetry, the road, transition, wonder, work

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The new year could be a prism,

a prison,

an ache and an embrace.

We just never know,

until at once a soft wind settles and we do.

Offer a kindly nod to the dark,

and an opening of arms to the light-

both will accompany us the whole way;

it is our work to acknowledge and learn from 

the full spectrum every day.

May we remember to create Beauty 

and move skillfully as we can

with the cinnamon dance of Mystery..

And, please, mind the tenderness of little toes.