Category Archives: devotion

Keep following

21 Friday Oct 2016

Posted by in Creating, devotion, Inspire, poems, poetry, weaving, work

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You
to whom strangeness is foreign
in the creative force of living

-from the bubbling,
biting smell of fermenting kimchi,
to the heated twisting of metal
in rough hands capable
of leaving can’t and wrong and won’t behind-

Keep following
those peripheral ribbons of inspiration.
The crumbs of the yeah-butts
couldn’t possibly do.

New growth

16 Sunday Oct 2016

Posted by in becoming, break out, change, dark, Deliverance, devotion, Loss, nature, pain, poems, poetry, receiving, release, strength, wonder

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After wildfire,
in the enclosing wood
where bend of bough, like tuck of wound, 
cradles loss in darkness- 
please, 
time.
Time to pause, to sense,
for paws and scents to know
of safety’s approach.
For repair,
beneath dust-breath layer after dust-breath layer 
of grey white ash, does come:
New growth.
Pain, when given its due,
becomes not enemy
but ally and
its own necessary offering. 

 

Any other

30 Friday Sep 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, becoming, break out, change, Creating, Deliverance, devotion, discomfort, freedom, learning, movement, nature, poems, poetry, release, story, strength, the road, transition, work

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A rock stands in your path.
A big one.
It’s the same damned rock you’ve walked smack into countless times,
decade after decade,
despite the changing terrain.
You walk the mapless territory, silently, wondering… how on earth?
Do you go around?
Climb over?
Finally hammer the blasted thing to pieces?
Your choice, always.
Fun part is-
this time
your decision may be unlike
any other.

Don’t hold on

28 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, aging, beauty, becoming, change, crafting, devotion, discomfort, Fire, freedom, Loss, Love, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, receiving, release, strength

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Being sculpted

means

being thrown,

as clay,

first kneaded- no bubbles – then

spun

well beyond dizzy,

cut,

and fired to degrees

scorching

even by shuddering imagination

if 

your aim is to be a

cup,

vase,

bowl,

holy space ripe

for filling, 

able to offer solace, pleasure,

delight,

beauty, compassion,

ease,

and round reflections of sky.

Don’t hold on.

Be here.

And if?

13 Saturday Aug 2016

Posted by in abundance, beauty, break out, change, devotion, honoring, listen, Love, nature, poems, poetry, presence, Sight, transition, weaving, wonder, work

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And if the stars are talking to you

through closed sash and latched window?

And if the tree sway would catch you in a dance

were you only to step outside at dawn?

And if the thick green pond might turn blue

if you’d catch its eye while passing by?

And if the coyote call one ridge away

could reach your naked aching ear 

were technology not wedged tight,

filling the cracks where nature could get in?

And if the ducks recently born,

hiding beneath the bowering bracken

edging the water

could gather your attention as you do theirs,

would this love affair ripen

and our wild and sacred

no longer be made into amusement parks?

There is a begging for fidelity here-

make this wild love affair true.

It is our one way through.

Nowhere but onward

25 Saturday Jun 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, aging, beauty, devotion, discomfort, Expanse, freedom, honoring, movement, mystery, nature, poems, poetry, the road, wonder

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I have searched, reached,

spoken, cried, and delivered.

My arms have ached in fullness, emptiness

and longing,

my legs have quaked miles into the journey

with nowhere but onward

left to go.

Muscle blood bone

register waking 

like petals opening toward light.

What I now carry will remain behind

in this daily offering 

of God

back to God.

I am a shooter

18 Saturday Jun 2016

Posted by in beauty, becoming, break out, change, courage, Deliverance, devotion, Expanse, fearlessness, freedom, gratitude, honoring, learning, listen, Love, loving, movement, nature, poems, poetry, the road, vision, work

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I am a shooter.

In all the ways I hate myself, in all the ways I hate others,

in any destruction of life in which I partake,

in my cruelties and holding on to misunderstandings,

in any willful resistance to seeing difference as beautiful,

in my own brokenness, impatience, refusal to love,

I, too, am a shooter.

And how

may 

my life-

this singular life-

be a devotion toward loving and mutual living 

on this planet,

the one inhabitable wondrous place

we all share

and call home?

Born into violence and out of grace,

how may my breath move

from the one toward

the other…

With each day

I ask,

in the face of violence,

for grace.

Fullness

15 Sunday May 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, becoming, change, courage, crafting, craving, devotion, discomfort, honoring, Infinite, learning, loving, movement, mundane, mystery, poems, poetry, the road, weaving

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Were i

to reach for the stars

my pants would fall down.

Today requires earthly attentions.

Keeping up trousers may be 

the ultimate action

while loftier desires

could knock me, particle by particle,

straight out of orbit.

Cupping a star in two small, mortal hands

must wait

until palms can remain steady

holding an infinitude of concentrated light.

Honoring

means discerning–

Here, fantasy. Here, reality.

With that slice we both

possess

the fullness of flourishing space.