And still the moving things….

I’ve been moving through some changes and it’s been a gnarly sort of stretch
but also beautiful and grow-y.
Always the paradox – the God-breath and the grit.
So, still from the soup, I want to share some of the stuff that’s been moving me:

~  all of the extra oxygen in my lungs (!)
I took the shot.  The one I’ve shied away from for several years because too many risks.
But then the risk of un-living my life seemed to loom larger so I dove in
and did the risky deed the doctors recommended
and I can breathe all the way down
to the bottom of my lungs.
This feels crazy big and I’m sometimes giddy with air.

~ the way the early evening quiets the heat
the dusk gentles the sun,
and how the river sings my dry places soft again.

~  the courage that’s somehow finding me to be transparent in shamestorms,
to stand sometimes unmasked until my fear gets tired of fearing
and love gets to find me like that
and heal some of my unloved places.
The whole getting better at not hiding thing.

~ for the fields of yellow where horses graze with the foal
who trots along playful like a dolphin born into a buttercup sea.

~ for the mishmash of music making my summering sing,
including Willy Nelson Sings Gershwin,
and Lauren Daigle’s Look Up Child.

~ for how I’m learning to live in a rest that can weary what wants to drive me,
can just demoralize it because the joy I keep tapping won’t lose it’s fizz.
that I can cry angry,  heart-broken tears and still trust the Love that’s holding me
and plant myself peaceful in this place.
How this is stronger than the certainty I crave.

~ for the high places and skies that ride these ridges
where I can listen to the wind words.

~ the way life is giving me soft moments with my mother
that I didn’t know I needed until I find the girl of me running hard to plant her flowers
and bring her beauty and make her eggs wet and find the words
that have fluttered far from reach before this tender time when we’re both bent low
so that maybe we can see each other’s faces true.

~ the compassion of friends who see my gimpy places and smile the same smiles
that warm me when I’m strong.

~ the first ripe veggies of Summer,  elderberry syrup in my tea,
and all the brave moves that let us be fresh berries splashed with cream
and served up sweet instead of growing mold in the back of the fridge.

“You are not too old,
and it is not too late
to dive into your increasing depths
where life calmly gives out
it’s own secret.”
– Rilke

Thanks for your patience with my heavy Springtime ways.
It’s coming on Summertime and the living is easier
now that the planting is mostly done.

A strong and blameless place…..

Hello fresh beginnings.
I so welcome, you.
I’ve been away from my blog and am grateful for a shiny new jumping-back-in place.
I’d felt swept away end-of-year,  caught up in a fast tide rising,
and miffed about the undertow that grabbed me away.
Truth:  it wasn’t the undertow that shut me down
but the fear that I couldn’t create my best stuff to contribute in the soup.
Couldn’t get my words out meaningful enough or make my art artful enough.
Or my camera couldn’t find light enough to see the stories like I wanted to tell them.
I’d be found out if I said the awful stuff rolling around in my head.
and wanted instead some soulful beauty to share.

Wasn’t this this bitter version of myself best quieted away until I could sort my crazy out?
No and yes and all the maybes.

Short and oversimplified:  I was terribly mad.  At my partner.
And scared of the financial chaos I felt trapped in
-it felt like a funhouse with moving floors and smoke and mirrors and scary clowns
I’d fallen down hard too many times and couldn’t find the door.
I just wanted to see clear and feel safe
and didn’t know how to take care of myself and also love the ones I love.
And mad at myself for not being smarter and smoother about it all.

In the rumble of truth-seeking and help-finding I discovered a something
that will ride along shotgun as I travel this year.
I can be a blamer.
A hardcore,  deep in my DNA blamer.
It’s how I learned to protect myself from shame.
I’m a pro at shifting it fast so I can quickly understand and feel some safe ground.
Even when I don’t understand at all.
Just that thin illusion of control.

We all live with our narratives.
Some of my mine were soaked in blame.
And what I’ve learned is that,
when we reach for blame,
confusion and chaos move in and set up camp.
(thank you most excellent marriage counselor)

I want to love more and blame less.
To take responsibility for my own stuff and stand my sacred ground.
To thrive in my marriage and in my relationship with myself.
The little word that grinned back at me this year feels like strength to my heart,
a good walking stick for the climb.

I’ll come back and unpack more later:
just sharing now the word:  blameless

Love to you and your journey this year,
and peace with every step,  even when the way seems blurry.
There is a way.
May your exquisite heart be light.

“When you cease to exist,  then who will you blame?”
– Bob Dylan

“May what I do flow from me like a river,
no forcing and no holding back,
the way it is with children.”
– Ranier Maria Rilke

roots of something real….

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What is your deal?  I mean,  how can you be so up?”
Anyone ever asked you that?

I don’t deny ugliness and injustice,
oppression and cruelty and horror,
that the false walks around puffed up and defiant
and honored often as genuine and good,
that leaders often lie and the lonely often hide
and the walls we keep between us shield us mostly from solution,

and I grieve where money is power
and pretense is importance
and service isn’t noble
and children ache with unmet need
and become parents who pass down the disease.
No,  mine isn’t the bliss of ignorance.

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I’m marinating more in the muchness of hope,
the kind that isn’t false or tricksy,
in the fierce,  capable goodness of creative Spirit
who gave us this planet to steward and love,
living Love so willing to be lavished on thick,
longing to be invited into the chaos
(I’m thinking God has healthy boundaries….nothing toxic there)

I’m believing in something more,  something stronger
something thoroughly alive,
Light that swallows darkness and does amazing like it’s easy.
It’s real and relational
and I joy more because
I believe
that
there are  seeds of restoration
in every surrendered shitstorm.

Nothing is beyond redemption.

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“I want to unfold.
Let no place in me hold itself closed.
For when I am closed,  I am false.”
-Ranier Maria Rilke