Gradually, all is slowing down from the frenetic after-shocks of
a holiday season that was followed by the chaos of the shifting
plates of our planet.
All over the world, help is on its way to Haiti.
Here at home, I can with gratitude pause and look around me.
How am I responding to the shifting plates of my own life?
I turn to poetry:
Myself at my door
at home in his
my own heart
by the news
and my face
All the stars
like a great crowd
of creation singing
above the blessed house.”
from Songs For Coming Home.
And my voice among them, singing with that great crowd.
Two days ago, my throat started to close and I knew
I had to sing ,too, for the way my own heart has opened
as I’ve released all critical memory of changes.
I cannot choose the youth’s “Bring it on!” to change.
I do instead choose the unknown future that even now is
forming. I live across the road from the lights on I-95,
so I cannot see the stars. And yet, I know they are there.
On this cold winter night I claim the right to hope and to joy
and to the fullness for all possibiity around change to be an
opening for joy’s song.
Surely, that is a way of coming home.
with love …
Early morning has come and gone, the sun is shining and yet
it seems it’s just the right time for this poem:
IF IT IS NOT TOO DARK
Go for a walk, if it is not too dark
Get some fresh air, try to smile.
Say something kind
To a safe-looking stranger, if one happens by.
Always exercise your heart’s knowing.
You might as well attempt something real
Along this path.
Take your spouse or lover into your arms
The way you did when you first met.
Let tenderness pour from your eyes
The way the Sun gazes warmly on the earth.
Play a game with some children.
Extend yourself to a friend.
Sing a few ribald songs to your pets and plants —
Why not let them get drunk and wild!
Every rung we’ve climbed on Evolution’s ladder.
Whisper, “I love you! I love you!”
To the whole wide world.
Jump to your feet, wave your fists,
Threaten and warn the whole universe
That your heart can no longer live
Without real love!
Translation by Daniel Ladinsky
and, this note from the dear one who sent me this poem:
“Just when we think we can’t go on and want to ride a pony
into the hills and set up camp by a river ’til we die,
this kind of poem rips through to the joy that is always
always with love,
It’s Saturday! Anything can happen. Weekend, beautiful word.
In the winter at this hour it is still dark. Actually, light is only less
than an hour away. I find it hard to stir before the light of dawn.
I wander in my thoughts, avoiding starting the day.
The poet says…………….
“The night will give you a horizon
farther than you can see.
You must learn one thing,
The world was made to be free in.
Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.
Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of our aloneness
anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.”
……..DAVID WHYTE, from his book of poems,
So, at the beginning of this weekend, do keep in mind
this wondrous idea that opens and opens,
‘anything or anyone that does not bring you alive,
is too small for you’.
It levels the playing field.
with love …