Crossroads

Crossroads

My body, now that we will not be traveling together much longer 

I begin to feel a new tenderness toward you, very raw and unfamiliar, 

like what I remember of love when I was young -- 

love that was so often foolish in its objectives 

but never in its choices, its intensities.

Too much demanded in advance, too much that could not be promised --

My soul has been so fearful, so violent: 

forgive its brutality.

As though it were that soul, my hand moves over you cautiously,

not wishing to give offense

but eager, finally, to achieve expression as substance:

it is not the earth I will miss, 

it is you I will miss.

- Louise Glück

Sometimes I Get the Zoomies

Sometimes when I have sessions with clients I internally experience what I call the zoomies. This is a term those of us with pet rabbits use (along with binkies) to describe a frisky, frenetic state we sometimes observe in them. It's a high energy expression that I interpret as sheer joy. In my situation, it's an emotional, spiritual, existential event.

It arises from the interaction I have with a client, when my heart feels connected to theirs, when I am flooded with gratitude to be in the room with them, in this role, doing what I've been gifted and trained to do: to serve in ways that help the person heal and grow. Sometimes this feeling brings me to the point where I feel close to tears. Another word for what I feel is love.

How fortunate I am! I'm grateful to life, and I'm grateful to myself for persevering through all the obstacles and challenges over the years to establish myself in this role. And lastly, I'm grateful for my husband, whose steadfast company and material provision over many years sustained me while I took a detour from the profession to immerse myself in motherhood and other experiences, before I wound my way back to this role.

“Footloose” by Porsupah Ree, CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

A Contemplation

A Contemplation

My body is no longer my own. It contains a
sprout like a fiddlehead fern frond, curled
inward on itself.

Microscopic cells mystically multiply
with fervor, their intention known only
to themselves.

While I breathe, while I sleep, whether
I churn like a river or remain a placid lake,
this body has

Its own mission. Summer is coming.

-Kathryn Harper

The Huron Carol - Canadian Christmas Chant

Haiku

Oh, Mother Morro!

Steadfast refuge for wildlife;

sacred ancient land.

-Kathryn Harper