Archive for November, 2011
In Love with the World
There is no end to love. We may tear ourselves away or fall off the cliff we thought sacred or even burn the home we dreamt of. But when the rain comes slow at a slant and the pavement turns cold, that place where I keep you and you and all of you—that place opens like a wet fist that can no longer stay closed. And the ache returns. Thank God. The sweet and sudden ache that lets me know I am here. The rain keeps misting my face. I am alive. What majesty of cells assembles around this luminous presence that moves around as me? How is it I am still here? Each thing touched, each breath, each glint of light, each pain in my gut is cause for praise. I pray to keep falling in love with everyone I meet, with every child’s eye, with every fallen being getting up. Like the worm cut in two, the heart only grows another heart. When the slash in my open hand heals, I try again. Birds migrate and caribou circle the cold top of the world. Perhaps we migrate between love and suffering, making our wounded-joyous cries: alone, then together. Oh praise the soul’s migration. I fall. I get up. I run from you. I look for you. I am in love with the world.
On and Off the Path
It’s the light above the path
that points to the path that
makes it a path.
The way the sun off the moon
lights the oar with the peace
we were looking for while we
sleep it off adrift in the boat.
It’s the light above the heart
that points to the heart that
makes each path necessary.
The way going there always
brings us here. The way loving
another always brings us
to ourselves.
It’s the light we drop and
leave that makes each
giving a path.
The way a carpenter builds
home after home; knowing
that the sawing, the planing,
the hinging, the building
is his home.
It’s the light we are but never
see that makes each soul a path.
The way the blossom of all
we feel and all we hide makes
the search for beauty unnecessary.
Going Inward
I’ve been walking the acre
of my soul. It’s been so long.
And there’s the hill I used to
sit on. I’d watch the stars reflect
in the river when it was tired of
running. I wonder what the view
is now. But it takes at least a day
to get there and another to sit still
in the grass and another to wait for
the stars to come out and another
for the river to tire. Sure life keeps
taking us away. But the only time
I’m free of fear is when I drink
from that river.
What Is Body Intelligence?
In the Whole IQ, Body intelligence is a reflection of the outer world of tangible forms and relationships in our lives. The tangible forms are not to impress people. Rather they are expressions of who we are. Michele talks about the “creative lifecycle” that she teaches where we aligned and connected with ourselves and world from the inside out.
The Early Sky Is Degas Yellow and You Are Still Asleep
I love this time of day. The only leaves left are
small silhouettes against the sky. They will go
unnoticed once the world wakes. Yesterday
while we were driving, George was setting
up the sawhorses outside his shop. As we
rolled through Parchment, the sun I so love
flooded the intersection and I couldn’t see the
light was red. I started through it. You called out
and I blamed it on the sun. You questioned my
sight. We argued briefly. Then you wondered if
I should be using a table saw. I bristled at the
limitation. The sun then flooded on you. And
for a moment, I was able to drop my stubborn
denial that things are slowly breaking down.
For the moment, I could step out of me and
see how hard it is for you who cares so much
for everything you love. I know saying I’ll be
careful doesn’t always help. But as we turned
onto E Ave, I felt how much you love me. So
much goes unnoticed once the world wakes.
We are small silhouettes against the early
sky. I love this time of day.
Follow Us