Even Song

Even when the night dances so dark on your mind
that your peace splinters tears,
when life feels over-budget and overdrawn
but under-spent;
in the ache and stall and prickle
and in the fear that can sit so heavy on a belly
that you freeze clear through to your spine
…even then it is there,  rumbling low,
fluttering hope.

In the fear that your mistakes may cost more
than you can ever help to pay,
that you may have loved much but not well,
may have caused more harm than healing,
more thicket than clearing,
more frustration than good,

that a stray word or exhausted miss
may have broken things so hard
that the
final word
is suffering.

Even there in what could quickly become despair,
a bud burns still inside to open,
to sizzle and surge and batter through rock
and shriek life into all that died.

In the stabbing glare of all you may have wasted
or wandered off from,
there’s an epilogue unwritten still
but swirling always fierce with hope
that won’t let go even when you must.

It rumbles new beginnings,  new pages,  new leaves and buds and seasons,
that what was lost may still be found,
that what was buried may yet live.

That in all of the loss and leaving,
in the dreams that died in the shell,
your heart is safe to lean in to what’s coming,
into the quiet thunder that’s humming
resurrection,
hold steady,
it is well.

“What is this breaking,
this hopeful re-making,
shifting stones,
addressing dry bones,
dizzying me with blessings,
intercepting my grieving
and raising the dead all around me.”
– Enuma Okoro

Happy Springtime,  dear you:)
I’ve been busy living like a farmer and I realize I say that every April or May; it’s as true as ever.
I’ll be back regular now – thanks for being your loving selves with my
dirty,  achy, sunburned,  tuckered out Springtime way.
You are a lovely garden and I plop down grateful in your gentle shade:)

Rocks, feathers and the music of letting go….

I needed a rest from the intensity of the storytelling brewing inside,
needed to let it marinate in spirit
and go outside instead to watch the leaves drift down
on the wind of a season shifting.

Needed to give my old ways some space to stretch again with the new of a job,
the bustle of some ending,  and a hurricane of change.
To give myself again to the river running through
and pour epsom salts in steaming tub
and let the hot waters tug the hurting from my bones
while I stir and stir the singing to my soul.

To crumple fresh into the everloving arms of Life-Giver.

I’ll be back again soon with more stories
but need right now to stoke the fires of gratitude
until they climb high and burn strong against the early night.
To feed my joy generous with hefty portions of light
until my heart is thumping music again.
To do the sacred work of letting go.

Sometimes like releasing a feather to breeze,
sometimes like coughing up rocks,
the always freeing
and wildly surprising
badassery of
l e t t i n g
g o.

“People may call what happens at midlife a ‘crisis’ but it’s not.
It’s an unraveling – a time when you feel a desperate pull to live the life you want to live,
not the one you’re ‘supposed’ to live.
The unraveling is the time when you’re challenged by the universe
to let go
of who you think you are supposed to be
and to embrace who you are.”
– Brene’ Brown

Of curiosity and closets and the clothesline of things…..

I’ve been taking stock,
cleaning out the closets of what I think I am,
reclaiming some treasures and discarding what no longer fits.
It’s been carting off piles of what may have worked in seasons past
and infusing with sunshine fresh from the clothesline the ones I choose still to embrace.
There’s been sadness in the letting go
but this yummy, spacious joy in the after
and I feel so light about these roomy new digs that I want to share
what got refreshed and left behind to grow:

Who am I anyway.  A list:

~ I’m a friend.  A good one.

~  I’m a mother.  Not a great one.  But devoted,  wholehearted,  and I show up always
to the learning curve to discover,  listen and improve.
And I relish the climb.

~ I’m a lover of people.  Oh yes – love deeply and without apology.
I get caught up.  Smitten.
And I’m rarely disappointed.   People are mostly altogether
as beautiful as I first realized them to be.
Relationships may disappoint, yes,  and I’m learning to better navigate those,
but I think humans are almost always lovelier than even they seem.

~ I’m a codependent, recovering.  Always recovering.
But I feel the crazy like an old injury when certain triggers and fatigue wear me down
and I can stumble down those stairs so sudden
that I’m sleepwalking in the thick of habit before I’m fully awake.
I’ve wrecked a relationship or two this way.
Mostly,  though,  I reserve the lion’s share of injury for myself,
still often giving more than I can afford.
But I am in recovery, enthusiastically showing up to the work,
currently working a 12 step (CoDA) and getting some delicious freedom in the new.

~ Because, I’m a student.  Always.
Curious and unwilling to waste my living unexplored.

~ I’m a gardener.
It’s how I see the world.  I love the whole messy, unpredictable process;
– it feeds something deep inside.

~ I’m a seer…..empath…..intuit
– whatever you want to call a super-sensitive soul.
I feel places,  see songs,  hear hearts,
sense energies,  and sometimes touch the mystic.
I accept and often enjoy this,  and it also sometimes unravels me.
Such a paradox,  life.
(And,  yes,  so woo woo)

~ I’m a listener.
I love to know people.  To hear their stories.
And to be heard and known.
Assumption is the ugliest thing I know.

~ I’m a lover of nature,  lover of honesty,  a lover of God,
and a lover of words.
I’m a writer,
and diving deeper into the deep end of things I’ve carried
since I was only a girl full of dreams.

Someone recently handed me a box of darkness,  as Mary Oliver described,
and this indeed has been gift.
I’m getting clear about who I’m not,  that I am,  and what my own heart may be howling
above the music of the waves.

I’ll be back more now that our busy season is done and all the gardens growing happy.
So much that I’m bursting to share!

 “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand that this,  too,  was a gift.”
– Mary Oliver

“Over and over,  we are broken on the shore of life.
Our stubborn egos are knocked around,  and our frightened hearts are broken open
– not once,  and not in predictable patterns,
but in surprising ways and for as long as we live.”
– Elizabeth Lesser

The wild of wind and willows….

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It’s been a strong wind stirring up
the undersides of my leaves
in the wild way of spirit
when she moves to kiss the pink
back into white knuckles clenched
and it’s beautiful how she calls me out to hear the whoosh and whisper,
to walk out farther into the big open field of my heart
and lay me down beneath the willows

because sometimes you can’t un-hurt people with your simple words.
Sometimes you can’t un-break things.
Sometimes you have to put your hand on the cracked bowl of your heart
and just let it be wide and hollow,
filling up with mystery in the way you welcome something that you treasure.
To cherish your own space.

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To pat your hand lightly on your being
and cluck “you can’t fix this”
and let the soft brush of the willow branches
sing their way over you
the way things that don’t go brittle do.

They bend and billow and ride the wind
and whisper that I can,  too.

I wish you her willowy way,
to stand strong into your softness,
into the full of your own skin.
To be the whole and all
of you.

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“Breathe into being kind.  Grow into your substantive heart.
Embrace your vulnerability,  courage,  and might.
Walk forward with your whole being.
Be all this,  but please don’t be nice.
Nice is small.
It implies pretending no other layers exist.
It can’t hold hungry children or fishermen in their boats.
Nice arms will break and nice vessels will sink.
Only what’s real can be strong.
Only what’s true can hold empathy.”
– Rachel Awes
(From her magnificent new book The Great Green Okayness)

I drew the name Leigh Eades from the hat this week.
Will be sending a little package of handmade love her way.
Dropping more names from this week’s comments
into the drawing for next week.
Willowy love to you all!

 

Only love can make it rain….

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Standing in this cathedral of wind and wild things,
feet planted easy in a field that sings your name,
I cheer and then go quiet because it’s right inside
that I feel your heartbeat thump with mine
and I don’t need to hurl words high to be heard;
when I’m still I feel your sound
like a low,  healing bell
and again I fall soft into the quiet of your love.

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And even when dear ones seem to be sinking
and I must let go and trust them to stronger hands than mine,
when debt squeezes tight and I can’t slip free the coils
and the pain finds it’s way into my body and thunders hard,
there is a freedom, still,  so fierce and untiring
that it won’t be worn down.
It lifts and buoys and breathes back the air
that the crazy can suck right out,
breathes it back into me with every sip of truth
so I can go on and live big anyway

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and we can,  you know,  stand even here loved and safe and cared for so big
that the pain can’t steal it away,
this love that doesn’t quit or condemn or withdraw or manipulate;
just leans in open,  with a holy grin,
and so we,  too,  can live big and open and grateful and true
in a powerful peace that keeps pouring down wholeness
on every place where we let go and let dance in the rain.

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“Only love can make it rain
the way the beach is kissed by the sea
only love can make it rain
like the sweat of lovers layin’ in the fields

Love,  reign o’er me,
Love,  reign o’er me,
Rain on me,  rain on me.”
-Pete Townshend

I so wish I could send a zine to each of you beautiful people
but I drew 5 names and am oh so happy to be gifting one to
Sandra Ludwig, Kathy of Paper Pumpkin,  Julia at Of Petals and Wool,
Elephant Child and Brenda Thebeau.
I’ll try and send you messages to say.  Much love all around.