Relational Space

We are trying to bring light down into the darkest places. ~ Nicholas Janni

And another one gone, and another one gone.  Another one bites the dust. Hey, I’m gonna get you, too. Another one bites the dust. ~ Queen

I have been singing a lullaby

to lull this pain into a catatonic

state.  To cleverly  keep at bay

the black tarry shame.  Have you ever

noticed how what you avoid

becomes the breeding ground

for monsters? Today I reached

into the unknown

as you watched carefully,

your deep silence my opening.

I closed my eyes to the possibility

that you might judge me.

Simply trusting this space.

I showed you what I’ve never

shown myself, and you asked me

where I felt it, stuck

in my throat, a hard-fisted

heart, lungs enclosed in iron.

I wanted to spin stories

and you urged me

to go deeper, into the stagnation.

The dark place where there are

no words. Accepting this journey

as my prayer’s answer,

I follow the clues

in my body.  Finally daring

to open my eyes and see 

your nod, your smile, my tears

running down my cheeks.

The ice is melting and my cold limbs

are tingling until I can feel

energy sizzling

through my body now

until my shout of woohoo

startles our relieved laughter.


Inspired by: Lullaby, Unknown

Deep Connection

“The music loomed large in the experience: ‘I was learning a song and the song was simple…it was one note…C…it was the vibration of the universe…a collection of everything that ever existed…all together equalling God.'” ~ Patrick Mettes in How To Change Your Mind

I used to believe meditation

was an island in the storm

a way of calming that inner

soap opera, a place to notice —

whoa, these actors on the stage

need a break, a gentle but firm,

thank you for sharing

meaning shut up already.

Here I sit

noticing the sensations of my body,

feeling all these swarming emotions,

aware of the mindless chattering.

Tuning in to the space that holds us.

I thought that meditation

was a spiritual practice to be scheduled

along with exercise and meals.

Morphing now to become the essential

way to frame my day. 

And now I see that meditation is

constantly allowing me to drop in,

ground myself, inviting the parts

of me that emerge from the dark

locked places to see through

my eyes this new shift in reality.

Vacuuming the rug as way.

Listening to you as way.

Including, expanding this yes,

now this. Embracing the resistance

with compassion. Ah, this no.

Knowing meditation keeps revealing

all that I don’t know. All that I could

never imagine knowing. This.

Now this not knowing.

I just recycled 2016 Daily Word Prompt: Island

The Constant Invitation

“Consciousness narrows as we get older….Adults have congealed in their beliefs and are hard to shift…whereas children are more fluid and consequently more willing to entertain new ideas. If you want to understand what an expanded consciousness looks like, all you have to do is have tea with a four-year-old.” Alison Gopnik
“Or drop a tab of LSD.” Michael Pollan
“In contemplative practice, I set awakening as my highest priority. Every single minute. Ahem. Wake me if I forget?!” ~ me to the universe.

By a sheer fluke, I spy
a shy green heron perch
on my neighbor’s deck. The white
clouds reflecting catch
my attention. It is difficult for me
to see tiny fish dart
even in this clear water,
with all of these trees
vivid summer green
waves in the lake. But this
bird’s doors of perception
are wide open and even though I sit
peacefully behind screens,
as soon as delight and curiosity
move me to peer
through binoculars and marvel
— such colorful plumage,
a human watching alert
transforms fishing to flight. Sometimes
in crowds, I can feel eyes on me,
turn quickly and meet a speculative stare.
And if I enter a room where I’d been
discussed, it is obvious. I can tune in
to what you are feeling right now.
The world is a connected field.
We used to toddle about,
tripping on every unfiltered perception
before choosing survival. A butterfly’s
enticing dance is ignored for the speeding
car. We learn to cautiously keep
our attention on what can harm us.
And that’s a good thing,
as it brought us here. Now
I am ready to return
to childlike wonder,
give up the belief that I know you
— or anyone or anything. So as I
notice and embrace my habits
of survival, I can wiggle
like my two-year-old teacher.
I keep asking: What is this?
Who are you?
Wanna play?

Inspired by the Daily Addictions Prompt: Transform

I recycle 2016 Daily Word Prompts: Clouds

Daily Ragtag Prompt: Fluke

I’m playing poet by combining these three prompts daily. It’s fun!

Under The Numbness

“Honesty is an alive process.” ~ Thomas Hubl

I was a tourist in We-space
when Grace spoke up, silvery
and focused, an opening for
Love to run in, arms outstretched.
Joy, tumbling in cartwheels,
lay panting on the grass to listen.
All week, I have been feeling numb
and curious at my seeming
poverty. Where are my emotions?
Do I only feel them when a wound
is flicked like a whip
on a sensitive horse’s flank,
from sedate walk to wild gallop?
I hereby celebrate this milestone where
they nudged me playfully
and tickled me unmercifully
so that when I received the terse
text that I’d lost my job,
emotions surged like hot lava.
My rational mind dictated
don’t be self-centered, here
is good reason to celebrate.
My grandson will no longer sit
in his carseat for an hour each way
through treacherous traffic,
no time for breakfast, a rude
awakening with the solace
of his beloved grandmother.
He gets to stay home with Mommy!
I will leap to logic later; right now
I am bereft, honoring these feelings
of abandonment, love being snatched
from my arms with no warning.
I can feel the rising clamor
of earlier, similar incidents
when my base was too small
to ride these huge feelings,
and I wail, airing and allowing
all of the grief, the sadness, the mad.
I grab an emotion color wheel
to help me name
the rich shades in this rainbow
swirling through me. This is untold
wealth and hidden treasures:
I find peace
lodging comfortably here —
surprise — and a deep respect
as I allow myself
to enjoy being alive. All mine:
searing emotions, brutal
vitality. And later, dream
faces of old friends
and lovers bring abrupt
devastation, and this time
I name it
to their face and mine.
I feel it
with my tender heart
this time.

Inspired by the Rag Tag Prompt: Milestone

Inspired by the Daily Addictions Prompt: Poverty

I recycle 2016 Daily Word Prompts: Tourist

The challenge to write a poem combining these three prompts daily is inspiring!

Plutchik’s Color Wheel of Emotions

The Music Is Just Starting

“Apparently, the healing energies are everywhere in the air as in a special WI-FI-field. But to be effective, they need a human being as a medium to lend them body and voice for a few minutes. Then the healing powers begin to work with gestures and sounds.” ~ Dr. Karl-Heinz Rauscher

Be aware of the power of sound vibrations in setting intentions and in manifesting. ~ Victoria Stuart

I’ve been embracing my shadows
and learning that love is precision.
I sing out my intentions
in the depths of meditative space
and the reverberations are shattering
my ways to cope. My family
and friends are used to my indulgence;
I’ve allowed them to ride roughshod
over my best interests, because isn’t
that what loving means? Now they are
afraid I will deprive them of my presence.
Ironic, since this is the first time
I have even seen the ground
let alone been able to stand mine.
In this new space opened by my desire
to be in the next level of relationships,
I acknowledge my instinct to flee
the mess and confusion, the seeming
disrespect. Even so, it is my honor
to present myself all decked out
in my new shades. Drumming and chanting
my new mantra:  I belong here.
I celebrate this imperfect
now, unsettling enough that my
ancestors are rolling in their graves.
That’s a good sign; the fresh air
will disintegrate secrets they have hidden
and free us all to play.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: Deprive

Inspired by the Rag Tag Prompt: Indulgence

I recycle 2016 Daily Word Prompts

Inspired by the Daily Addictions Prompt: Cope

Love Is Everything

“Love is everything….A platitude is precisely what is left of a truth after it has been drained of all emotion.  To resaturate that dried husk with feeling is to see it again for what it is: the loveliest and most deeply rooted of all truths, hidden in plain sight….our senses…are liable at any time to astonish us with news of the sheer wonder of the world.” ~ Michael Pollan

My grandson is climbing a tree!

An ornamental bush, really, highly pruned

to the coincidentally exact

specifications of a small climber.

His foot fits into the ledge

of a cut and then upward onto a perch.

Reaching high to grasp limbs on both sides

he is delighted by a shower of drops

from the recent rain. He jiggles again

and listens and feels the waterfall

joy radiating. Such a passionate being

seized by the desire to vibrate.

I remind him to be gentle

with the living tree, and more,

to thank the tree

for holding him. He flashes that

mischievous toddler’s grin — surely

the root of all double-dog dares —

and shakes so hard that he loses

his footing and lands, surprised

on the ground. Not even six inches,

so a minor fall, but the timing of my

warning has convinced him

that the tree’s strong boundaries

around rough stuff had ended their embrace.

Or perhaps his grandmother’s gift

of prophesy has again been confirmed.

He journeys back through the secret

pathway he has created to approach

the only tree he can climb here.

The tree remembers you, I say.

I have taught him to hug

huge old trees, and that listening to

and respecting the beings who do not engage

in human talk is an essential part

of loving. I am only now learning

through him that I belong here.

I am alive and my voice is unique

and needed. I’m letting go of all the survival

tactics that made me question whether

or not I really was the weird one, the knowing

that I didn’t fit in, and that I must change

my basic nature. I am here,

I am open, I am available,

and love is everything.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: Prophesy

I recycle 2016 Daily Word Prompts


I am always on the verge

of deliciousness, diving deeper

into the now.  The old patterns

that once felt like chains are being

exposed to the air, to my gentle heart

sight.  Today I can stir the muddy 

waters, digging for what has been 

buried, and let go of the longing

for the tranquil pool

reflecting moonlight.

When monsters are buried, the stillness

is just a prelude for horror,

and the expectant stress is worse

than a simple archeological expedition

into the roots of my dilemma

and yours, for we are all connected

here, flummoxed by our blind impulses

stuck on repeat.

The morning is reserved for space,

no judgment, simply observing what is,

sitting in stillness at the side of the lake,

watching the slow parade of proud geese

and their six brave goslings, two racing

squirrels, mama rabbit and her bold bunnies,

two skittish ducks, a patient watchful

great blue heron now with a squirming 

bluegill.  A black water snake slides by, 

his wake an arrow pointing

to his tiny head.  The songbirds are celebrating.

Everyone is diving, clucking, singing,

hopping as I sit, fresh and alive,

free and dangerously available

to the future, finally downloading 

the insights that will 

impel me forward.

Inspired by the Rag Tag Prompt: Flummoxed