Of life-living and so-telling…..

I’ve been standing in the strong winds of the word that found me for the year –
blameless –
winds whipping high with opportunity to blame like crazy,
to max out my capacity to resent and hold grudge.
(isn’t that the way these things go – you get a word and it challenges you so)

Yeah,  my little word has been riding shotgun while I wrestle with the wishing
to slam down my gavel and spit reasons why I’m right,
to stomp my feet to make it fair,
to lock my jaw and close up tight
because the way I see it is the way
and I want to keep my mad about it.
( sigh:))

The urge to say I told you so – there they are,
the words that can hiss and rattle alongside my longing
to be grace in gravely places.

“I told you so”
-is there even a shimmer of light in those self-righteous little words?
That I was able to predict something that heaven never wanted,
able to say the worst before it had the chance to happen
and then get to feel like I’m on higher ground?

Ewwww

When I get over myself and look with love I can see a little clearer
the choices that I’m choosing,
because when I leave this planet and burst blazing into the next thing
what kind of fire do I want to have lit with all of my telling?

I want to have told things that massage hope into silent questions,
that knead whatever light someone holds until it expands and fills their lonely places,
telling that rubs away the anxious rumblings that can make a hurting heart feel separated from love.
To say how you don’t have to be clever enough, or strong enough,
or fast or smart or good enough –
that you’re already there and wrapped in love enough
to help and heal and hold you close through anything
and maybe someone can open and receive it
because another someone told them so.

God how I want my told-you-so’s to be life instead of darkness.

You are worthy and wanted and welcome
and I want to tell you so:)

“Certainty is missing the point entirely.”
– Anne Lamott

(i’ve been a bad blogger lately – thanks so much for coming around
and saying even when I don’t get by to visit as often as I will soon.
I miss our visits)

To leave behind a well-worn life…..

I want to live my life – the whole messy thing –
live all the in-betweens and almosts and dark corners.
To live even when I’m spooked and my living starts to freeze up,
when I’d rather go sleepy
or let a blue day swallow me down.

I want to live above the ground for all of my days
until my body is done,
to recognize quick those moments when I opt out,
when busyness makes a racket and I can’t hear the un-lived moments
float silent down like the ash of a cigarette left burning,
the soft stink of something left to die.

I want my life to smell well used and air-dried and open-windowed,
never dank like a room shut up and left
until someone comes back to find it
later.

I want to live all the way alive,
 each morning early when I pull myself from pillow
and live for real the whole of the day until I sleep,
to leave a well-used life still warm and speaking
like a blossom,
like a mountain,
like a shriek.

“A storm was coming but that’s not what she felt.
It was adventure in the wind
and it shivered down her spine.”
– Atticus