Pandemic Prayer

Pandemic Prayer

We are not all left standing when the war has ended.
It feels like the end times.
For many, it is.
Inhalation is our first act of embodiment.
Exhalation, our last.
One lifetime, millions of breaths
a conversation with all existence.
Where does the spirit go when we die?
Hail Mary, my gentle Momma,
You left; you gave up your breath
before the virus could steal it.
You waged a long campaign to stave off
cancer, old age, and death.
Emancipating your breath
you added the gift of your spirit to all.
Holy Mary, you released your body,
returned to Earth, our suffocated Mother,
in respiratory distress for decades.
Humanity is a virus choking
and drowning our source of life.
When the host dies,
the virus dies too.
Momma, you returned to our Mother
so you could garden with Her,
to try to heal us all.

–Kathryn Harper

On this day six years ago my mother, Mary Catherine Nicklas Petro, died. She was 86 and had two types of cancer. In 2017 she was diagnosed with stage IV melanoma -- her third experience with melanoma. She began Opdivo, an immunotherapy. It was her good fortune that she fell into the 30% for whom the treatment worked. It shrank her tumors to almost nothing. About a year ago, her breast cancer returned. She had a lot of arthritis, mobility issues, and pain. Yet she kept going as long as she could with the Opdivo, because she wanted to contribute to the research on the treatment for the sake of others. The breast cancer returned, though, and she knew she didn’t want aggressive treatment for it. Her body was struggling enough with side effects and ailments.

Mom was getting close to entering hospice. We had imagined more time, a gradual decline, a process where we could see her again and say good-bye. Something happened inside her that day that led to a swift end. She is no longer suffering. I had talked to her three days prior, and I am so glad I did. We lived 3,000 miles apart. I lived in an epicenter of Covid-19, was sheltering-in-place, and am in a vulnerable group. I didn’t want to get it, and I didn’t want to carry it to my siblings or my elderly father. I spent a lot of time saying good-bye to my mother over the years, connecting with her, resolving things between us. I grieved some. Yet nothing prepared me for how that felt. The finality. May we all be peace; may we all be free from suffering. 

Our Life's Prayer

Our Life’s Prayer

Carnal syrup which flows within,
why not make it art?
It has been spilled
enough to fill
the gloomy pit of Tartarus.
Ferry to us the draught of life.
Preserve us from dissolution,
for our gene codes fight dauntlessly,
against this.
Be not used to segregate others,
for humanity is one tribe.
Thou are the mystery, the
sinew, and the richness
that makes our lives worth living. Yes.

-Kathryn Harper 

This poem was written using a style called ekphrasis. The photograph is of a piece by René de Guzman and is titled Blood Color Theory. His artworks allude to current issues such as the HIV/AIDS crisis in the early 1990s. In this piece, de Guzman sandwiched his own blood, mixed with preservatives, between two Plexiglass sheets. The work's impact lies partly in the shock value to convey the message, and the work takes on the formal qualities of a minimalist painting. What I find intriguing are the images reflected. This poem, which echoes The Lord's Prayer, is the result. 

Walk Off the Earth - Fireflies

You would not believe your eyes
If ten million fireflies
Lit up the world as I fell asleep
'Cause they fill the open air
And leave teardrops everywhere
You'd think me rude but I would just stand and stare

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems

'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs
From ten thousand lightning bugs
As they tried to teach me how to dance
A foxtrot above my head
A sock hop beneath my bed
A disco ball is just hanging by a thread

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems
I fall asleep

Leave my door open just a crack
(Please take me away from here)
'Cause I feel like such an insomniac
(Please take me away from here)
Why do I tire of counting sheep?
(Please take me away from here)
When I'm far too tired to fall asleep
(Please take me, please take me away from here)

To ten million fireflies
I'm weird 'cause I hate goodbyes
Got misty eyes as they said farewell (we sailing away)
But I'll know where several are
If my dreams get real bizarre
'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar (we sailing away)

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems (we sailing away)
I'd like to make myself believe (believe)
That planet Earth (turn, turns) turns slowly (slowly)
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems (I fall asleep)
I'd like to make myself believe
Planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
Because my dreams are bursting at the seams

In Your Bones

A blessing, a wish, and a prayer for you.

 

Amazing Bake!

It's been awhile since I've rolled dough and prepped pies. But for Christmas Eve and Day (and beyond), we will enjoy the decadence of chocolate pecan pie and apple pie. May your holidays offer a bit of sweetness and light.

The Huron Carol - Canadian Christmas Chant

NPR Tiny Desk Contest 2023 - Andrea Gibson - MAGA HAT IN THE CHEMO ROOM

 

 

Andrea Gibson's brilliant force has departed their body. They were a beacon of courage and compassion communicated through poetry. I mourn our loss. May their brilliance and love manifest forever. 

 

Andrea Gibson's website.

 

Andrea Gibson's Substack.

Perilous Dark Path

"We seldom go freely into the belly of the beast. Unless we face a major disaster like the death of a friend or spouse or loss of a marriage or job, we usually will not go there. As a culture, we have to be taught the language of descent. That is the great language of religion. It teaches us to enter willingly, trustingly into the dark periods of life. These dark periods are good teachers. Religious energy is in the dark questions, seldom in the answers. Answers are the way out, but that is not what we are here for. But when we look at the questions, we look for the opening to transformation. Fixing something doesn't usually transform us. We try to change events in order to avoid changing ourselves. We must learn to stay with the pain of life, without answers, without conclusions, and some days without meaning. That is the path, the perilous dark path of true prayer."

---Richard Rohr, Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer

Prayer Doesn't Work; Praying Does

Denise Levertov writes: 

“With what radiant joy he turns to you, and raises you to your feet, and strokes your disheveled hair, and holds you, holds you, holds you close and tenderly—before he vanishes.” 

The homie Garry says, “God is the intake of breath and we are the exhaling of it. So… we need to take every breath personally.” Prayer is as sustaining as a breath and not a plea to God to keep us safe from dangers and temptations or begging for favors. For example: “God answers knee-mails.” Prayer doesn’t work; praying does. Not sure how else we breathe in the God of unfathomable compassion if not by our own spiritual practice and silent solitude. This allows us to land on God’s oceanic shore and it organizes things for us.

The Whole Language: The Power of Extravagant Tenderness
by Gregory Boyle