The ride

09 Friday Sep 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, change, courage, fearlessness, freedom, joy, learning, movement, poems, poetry, release, the road

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know those times
when there’s nothing to hold on to?

but the brain tries,

oh boy does it try-
it clings to the past, to the future, to what is wanted, to what is feared, to what has been or may be lost,

to what ifs and oh shits and 

waaaaait what just happened?

that’s when it’s clear:

throw up both hands 

– high into the air –

the ride 

has already begun

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.

In the dark

24 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by in abundance, adventure, becoming, change, courage, crafting, dark, discomfort, learning, listen, movement, mystery, pain, poems, poetry, the road, work

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This cracked and dusty pain rested 

in a distant corner 

season upon season-

never gone,

napping at most-

waiting

for a fresh split

to draw bright blood.

Not to be resolved, or

fixed,

but lived

in

through

with

beyond.

Yet again, it is not mine

alone.

I live it for you, as

you for me.

A new light breaks

in the dark.

If I lay down

23 Tuesday Aug 2016

Posted by in break out, change, honoring, Infinite, listen, loving, movement, Music, nature, poems, poetry, release

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I can’t speak to you from here.

From here where I don’t listen.

But if I stop

circling and

running and

dodging

and

reaching.. 

If I lay down armaments

and armour

both weighing, separating,

isolating

me 

from

me 

and

me from you.. If

I lay myself down

upon your buried curving roots,

this bodily circulation

will remember

a tree-based rhythm,

an earthly pulse.

Without effort

the music changes.

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.

Thank goodness

03 Wednesday Aug 2016

Posted by in abundance, beauty, break out, Fire, gratitude, Infinite, joy, lovers, loving, movement, mystery, night, poems, poetry, weaving

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How is it your lips found mine

from a thousand miles,

in that sudden night warmth that wraps a person

in some late, dark fogs

while salt foam hisses closer up the sand?

How is it, stranger, 

there’s familiarity in the creases on your face, 

the new color of your eyes?

Proper ones on a beach 

may never know

what every particle of sand and

hidden star understands.

There’s this,

now,

nothing more-

the breaking, dying, spinning, softening, flowering..

It doesn’t get easier, or more beautiful.

Following fear

knocks agony into coves where

it never belonged.

Thank goodness for wind.

Ashes fall

29 Friday Jul 2016

Posted by in change, Fire, Loss, nature, poems, poetry

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Not leaves

but ashes

fall.

What bits land,

finding their way through closed windows,

into lungs,

are the remains

of your house,

your physical memories blazed.

I hesitate to breathe,

resisting

what is true.

With each opening of the door,

grief swirls,

covers the floor,

in grey, white, black.

It, too, will one day join this soil,

grow new forest,

stronger community.

But now,

staying inside,

I watch what has replaced rain.