As a therapist, this reads true. It's not a script. For me, the poem evokes the essence of being a therapist, meeting whatever the client brings, staying present and authentic. Of course therapy also involves deeper responses, examinations of beliefs and thought patterns, skill practice.
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.
"Work keeps you on the surface of life. Without work you
will sink down into your mind: ‘I don’t like this, I don’t want this, I
can’t do this.’ You will drown there. So you must work. Nothing to make
you rich, but enough to stay on the surface."
Playing truth or dare an hour before daylight among the bean trees, I encounter a stranger at the gate. When I ask what she is doing, she replies, "Composing a life." She seeks to answer the question, "Is there no place on earth for me?"
I ask how she will know the answer, and she says she will track her progress in the stone diaries. She has an amazing grace, this girl with a pearl earring wearing borrowed finery, and I want to know more. I ask with an open heart, open mind, what it is she seeks.
She wants to understand the savage inequalities, to have a reckoning with the fact that she lives in a world where the poisonwood bible increasingly becomes the rule of law. She wants to help people to stop running with scissors and enjoy the perfection of the morning.
We are surrounded by landscapes of wonder, if we would only make the effort to see differently.
She in turn asks what I seek. I reply that I want the courage to be, to cast a slender thread of hope into the sea, the sea of humanity. I want to plant new seeds of contemplation, embrace the grace in dying. I want to know the mystery of tying rocks to clouds.
From her angle of repose under oleander, jacaranda, the magnificent spinster listens. I tell her she has a beautiful mind, that I can see the molecules of emotion swirling in her. She tells me that I am a succulent wild woman, that I have zen under a wing. She reminds me that art is a way of knowing and solitude a return to the self.
Then we part, blessing each other with traveling mercies, with a promise to meet again at the healing circle in Gilead.
"The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been."
--Madeleine L'Engle
This birthday I decided to pull three cards from the Sufi Wisdom Oracle deck. I held the deck for a few moments and breathed, while listening to meditative music. I felt into Presence, touching the stillness, and relaxed. Remember Stereograms? This is a spiritual equivalent. Then I pulled three cards. They are lovely, especially because the three of them speak to the same theme: trusting love and life; releasing defenses and yielding; the assumption that the universe is mostly benevolent.
This one's for the lonely, the one's that seek and find Only to be let down, time after time This one's for the torn down, the experts at the fall Come on friends, get up now, you're not alone at all Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh And this part was for her and this part was for her This part was for her, does she remember? It comes and goes in waves, I This one's for the faithless, the ones that are surprised They're only where they are now, regardless of their fight This one's for believing, if only for its sake Come on friends, get up now, love is to be made Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh And this part was for her and this part was for her This part was for her, does she remember? It comes and goes in waves, I Am only led to wonder why It comes and goes in waves, I Am only led to wonder why Why I try This is for the ones who stand For the ones who try again For the ones who need a hand For the ones who think they can It comes and goes in waves, I Am only led to wonder why It comes and goes in waves, I Am only led to wonder why Why I fly
[A Debt] in a dream, i saw my mother before she was made mine. her life still unburdened by the weight of raising someone. no one has left her to be in a grave & she is yet to know where the nearest cemetery is. when she runs across the field, no tiny footprints gather next to her steps. her hunger simply hers alone. we do all kinds of things for love. look at me. look at me returning her life to her. even in a dream. --noor unnahar
"I think there are desert people and then there is everyone else. It takes something specific to flourish in the desert, to find its beauty obvious, to take root and weather the dry heat, the epic and swift flash floods. Only certain people figure out how to blossom in a landscape that wears its bones on the outside, where scorpions wander in the front door and tarantulas have migrating seasons." - E.A. Hanks
I decided, at the beginning of January, that I wanted to remove some of my presence on Facebook, and all my photos. FB has a feature where it serves up memories on particular days. I occasionally take screenshots before I delete from the platform. This one is from 13 years ago. I drink alcohol infrequently. This was one of those times.
These are links to songs that, listened to in sequence, are a form of meditation. I'm providing Youtube links because I don't know if you use Spotify, Tidal, Apple Music, etc. Youtube inserts ads in the middle of songs (unless you pay), so I recommend using your favorite service that won't impede listening.
They have been on rotation on my song list this year.
“This is the true joy in life, being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. Being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it what I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.” — George Bernard Shaw