Category Archives: honoring

Her own

21 Sunday Jan 2018

Posted by in adventure, aging, beauty, becoming, Body, break out, change, discomfort, freedom, honoring, learning, movement, pain, poems, poetry, welcoming

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At forty

she felt seventy.

Experience’s weight

had sunk posts deep into the landscape of her being.

Ache and limitation, an undertow of fatigue,

confusion at the seeming permanence

of the uninvited, the resisted,

lead this human to take possession, fully-

and for the first time-

of a life unwritten, free of guarantees,

and her own.

Entirely her own.

Her landscape now is a garden,

loved and wanted, with posts that may disappear.

Or not.

With their origins recognized, appreciated,

and their presence finally respected,

perhaps a hammock will be slung between them

in honor of spring’s arrival.

In the saddle

06 Saturday Jan 2018

Posted by in adventure, becoming, break out, change, discomfort, honoring, learning, listen, movement, mystery, nature, poems, poetry, prayer, transition, wonder

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At a beginning,

with the closest solitary prayer being

“I don’t know,”

my hips work to keep the rest of me in the saddle.

Movements in the sky-

valley fog, and clouds weaving high through the hills-

live their nature in waves, currents, and vanishings,

grand teachings of the cycles of continual change.

Sometimes, I wish I knew.

But, unintentionally, artfully, that greatest illusion

has been set on the shelf-

a furry trickster friend

who flashes me a smile, and snaps his tail

at the most wicked, and absurd times.

I don’t know becomes

a delicate, gritty daily worship.

Human walking

21 Tuesday Nov 2017

Posted by in becoming, family, honoring, learning, listen, nature, poems, poetry, story, the road, weaving, work

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Born from uninitiated folk,

as most Westerners are,

creates holes in knowing that let icy winds enter.

Weaving oneself back together requires attention,

a briny commitment, earthly,

sight of an old fist-width rope tying the now to a millennia of then:

the family line.

Mostly invisible shoulders carry

the wobbling essential unformed

human walking known as you.

Start asking questions.

Feather etchings

17 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by in aging, beauty, becoming, change, death, devotion, freedom, honoring, mystery, nature, poems, poetry, the road

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Feather etchings of wrinkles,

our tributaries of experience, deepen

towards more

not less.

Must we forget what the soul always knows,

that appearance is not worth

and youth is not to be strived for

but grown beyond?

Instead of living seventy years

as wobbly egos forever hungry and

needing to be bolstered,

we can throw our arms, like thick-barked tree limbs,

around death,

our constant friend teaching us

the riches of storied contours and

what it is to truly live.

Re-weave

16 Thursday Nov 2017

Posted by in abundance, adventure, beauty, becoming, devotion, honoring, listen, Love, loving, movement, night, poems, poetry, receiving, release, weaving

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Maybe it feels like standing forever in a head-high river current,

yearning.

Yet, igniting moments drop the belly

and lurch steps-

songs jump into hiccups, the nights being

so long.

And the syrup drip into sinews brought about by

–fill in the blank here–

well, if that thing, that other

is not what it’s really about,

what more enticing invitation could possibly surface

asking you

to re-weave yourself

into God?

Onward

14 Tuesday Nov 2017

Posted by in abundance, beauty, Body, devotion, gratitude, honoring, Love, loving, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, receiving, release, strength, transition, wonder

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Being caught by gratitude

between yes and no, by was and is,

between having and not,

brings the dance.

Heart suddenly solid, present and strong

like stone, not ice, with loving-

goodbye floods body with needed nectar

for not an awayness or an isolation, 

neither a grip nor a grab, 

not a mine or a missing or a fright, 

but a moving of grace 

onward.

Break the rim

30 Saturday Sep 2017

Posted by in abundance, adventure, break out, change, honoring, listen, loving, movement, poems, poetry, presence, receiving, release, stillness, the road, transition, welcoming

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Sorrow pools,

tears break the rim and,

with them, shadow of knowing

that salty drops rise when it matters-

any thing,

something,

this thing-

and a quarter turn brings

appreciation,

saying

stop

in this place, now-

where old meets new

gently

and slow.

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