lovesong at 432 Hz

 in the end

I walked away

after you had turned all the dials

listening 

within my many, infinite frequencies

for a channel 

where I bathed in all my selves

naked, and powerful

and alone.

like a tuning fork

you forged me into a sound

that was at once both familiar and strange

and then

you shattered the stillness of me

by plucking, as if they were tiny guitar strings,

needles from my skin

I will not leave (I said)

not this Time.

You said (take everything that has happened here today with you)

and I did

into the searing light 

vii.

how to mend broken things

I once knew a man

whose profession it was to mend

precious objects, broken

intentionally or unintentionally.

he devised

all manner of concoctions:

epoxies, resins, glues,

to conceal from the eye

the rifts, the fissures, the cracks.

how we mend broken things

is not a recipe.

it is an art,

much like divining 

water coursing unseen beneath the surface, your wedding ring, a stone someone touched recently, your reading glasses.

how we mend broken things

must come with the profound recognition 

that not all things

can be

mended.

it depends on the material: your great-grandmother's crystal, a favorite porcelain tea pot, an ancient tree, a beloved home torn from its roots by a hurricane

flesh

a heart.

some things cannot ever be mended 

and while you may be tempted to reach for the glue, sometimes the only way

to mend certain things, is to leave something else broken

fashion the shards into an expression of the pain of loss

make something beautiful 

from the fragments

of the destroyed world.

 

labyrinth iv

IV

Every stone around your neck you know the reason for

at this time in your life      Relentlessly

you tell me their names and furiously I

forget their names    Forgetting the names of the stones

you love, you, lover of stones

what is it I do?

--Adrienne Rich, Sleepwalking Next to Death

"I would have done anything to avoid the pain of transformation. I would have stayed in that dull, aching pain for as long as I could. But I was forced in another direction--the absolute last direction I would have ever chosen for myself. And all I can tell you is how lucky I was to have been so totally messed up, to be sick and in so much pain that I had no choice but to confront it, and challenge everything I knew about myself. 

Most people go through this world clinging to what's safe, having an idea of who they should be to pass through life with the least amount of friction. This is what we hope for--this is what we think means success. When this happens, we can cling to what feels safe and try to construct a socially acceptable version of ourselves, or we can jump into the void, risk everything we think we are, swim far from the safety of the shore for the unknown horizon, answer the call of every wild, bleeding desire we have buried in us, and use this one life we've been given to vault every edge, limit and wall we've constructed."

--Holly Whitaker

image 2602

I arrived.

where I arrived, the "there," is ...still to be determined...

"Trinitarian thinking is more spiral, circle, and flow than pyramid."

                                                        --Fr Richard Rohr

 

lovesong from the past

labyrinth 2

            for k.m.

 

I find myself here

again and again

 

here being always slightly changed

and yet the same

as if I am looping back on myself

only to find

myself, within

neither from nor towards

 

a circle of stones

 

every moment is irredeemable

Eliot said

the still point of the turning world

and yet

walking barefoot in a circle that is endless

and yet ends

I can only say: there we have been

But I cannot say where

 

and suddenly I understand

why numbers

are the only language

capable of deciphering Fibonacci’s poetry

 

but explanations are not what we are seeking

we

want. to. know.  why.

why

we spiral around one another like galaxies

(every circumnavigation placing us

yet another magnitude of space apart)

and still alone

like stones

still

beneath the snow

waiting

for the walker to come

and wake us from our slumbering

 

 

 

love song at second snow 4:44pm

 

                                        for ian.

Snow Moon

I awaken amidst a blanket of white and dreams

casting a circle of salt, and words

I do not recall

beckoning you--

but you

are someone I never knew, but played radio tower for

at ten thousand feet to hear an

Italian song throbbing over the clouds and through my blood.

Maybe because

I have left bread crumbs

of myself everywhere.

Maybe because 

I felt the tendrils, invisible but deep 

reaching down and through everything to you.

I open...

walking the rim of the canyon to the faraway trill of Sandhill Cranes.

And then

I close and I close until I do not know

if I am flower or stone.

I would be water, the ocean,

and whales and sea turtles my bones 

washed up on an island

only reachable 

by boat.

I would be storm and lightening and wind

to find you

but I am a desert--

sand dissolving, becoming nothing but your song.

Wild love for the world 2

 

I awake before dawn. Venus is blazing over the mountains, seeming to move spectacularly fast up into the sky. But it is we who are moving, passengers on this Earth that is spinning toward some far celestial horizon that I will never know. 

Beauty both aches and brings joy. Time escapes like the breath, each one a reminder that nothing, no matter how exquisite, or especially how exquisite, lasts. 

The smoke from small fires rises like wisps as the light bleeds into the vastness over the mountains. How do I learn to sit still with it all? To both hold it and let it go at the same time.

If I could learn how to rest in each moment would I cease to grieve for what passes before my eyes like an exhalation of dawn, and then is gone? 

finding the sacred in nature

"Mystical experience in nature—those moments when you sense your interconnection with all things—are more than just interesting encounters. They are invitations into relationship. Beyond caring for creation or stewarding Earth’s “resources,” it is entering into an actual relationship with particular places and beings of the living world that can provide an embodied, rooted foundation for transformation. The global shift necessary to actually survive the crises we’ve created depends on a deep inner change."

                                                    --Victoria Loorz, co-founder of the “Wild Church Network"