Clearing the Path

Spring is under here, I’m sure.
And no amount of shoveling will make it come faster.
This I know.
But I can clear a path for you.

No amount of meditating will make the sun rise faster.
This I know.
But this breath is a good thing to do while I am waiting.
God has cleared a path for me.

I cannot make spring, or make sunrise,
and some days I can barely make love.
But this I can do.
I can do this work.

God is in the work.
One inch. And then another.
One breath. And then another.
Love.
I am a lousy shoveler,
But I have cleared a narrow path for you.

And also for me.

Inside Job

There are no answers here.
Facebook doesn’t have them. They aren’t in GMail.
They aren’t in the thing you stopped yourself from saying
Nor in the thing you wish you hadn’t said.
Sweet girl, why are you looking here?

The answer isn’t even in the daily practice,
it IS the daily practice.
In the breath. In the stillness. In accepting the chaos.

The answer is in loving your lover when he stomps around,
your sister when she cannot see you,
your child when he withdraws,
and yourself when you know not which way to turn.
In the being with.

Do the work. Just do the work.
Bow to love. Bow to kindness.
Listen to the deepest stillest voice.
That is the sound of The Beloved.
Listen to the most Loving Action available in each moment.
Be sure that action includes loving you.
Move in that direction.

That is the Deepest Truth.

Riding the Wave

Today, I’m thinking about the wave(s) of love, the balance:

between autonomy and connection,
between stability and freedom,
between effort and surrender.

This Tedtalk by Reuben Margolin inspires today’s musings on love.

A wise woman once said she expected I’d “figure it out” in relationship (whatever IT is). So, I had a sense that deep dive into relationship could offer an opportunity for growth and then I ASKED the universe for this chance to see what it is like to be all the way “off the couch” with a partner and growing constellation of beloveds willing to do the same.  Before that, I studied for my second life: meditation, workshops, books, therapy. I selected a new life for myself with care and clear intention.

So here I am, deep in it. And I was right. I belong here. And there is an ease to noticing that when I am on the right path, the universe comes up to meet me. And also, there is still struggle. Every time we reach a new level of light, shed a few unnecessary layers, what gets exposed is excruciating, beautiful, challenging.

It’s like a wave…

We ride up, exhilarated, hands clasped together, big toothy grins. We reach the peak, look around together at the horizon, amazed by the possibilities.

Deep breath, and then comes the ride down, the natural pulling back into self for integration, passing through the baseline, noticing it is a little higher than it was last time, but still feeling the contrast with the peak.

To the bottom, where each of our egos and wounds and past lives poke up, asking to be witnessed, embraced, taken “With” for the inevitable ascent. That long pause at the bottom, with the view completely obscured, is the real invitation to faith, to awe, to gratitude. I dig in. He digs in. I reach out. He reaches out. In this low light place, we offer each other insights into what we can each feel out, like the blind men and the elephant, we share what we know, begin to form a mosaic view of the wholeness.

Which kicks off the ascent. No rushing that either, it takes its sweet time pulled by the memory we share of what it is like up there, we “pass Go,” collect our sustenance, humble ourselves to the way this game is challenging, but almost impossible without a play partner, appreciate each other’s growing skills and effort.

I don’t want anything else but to be on this journey, in this life.  This isn’t needless drama or some kind of manic cycle. This is soul work. It is right effort, and effort nonetheless. So I bow my sweaty brow, deep and low, to the mystery, invite my body to be supple and steady, to maintain balance in the movement.

Wave

Revelations

I sit swimming in words, swimming INwards
wandering wondering about love
when I check for her words
and find five notes that splay themselves
out for me to touch like waiting lovers.
Will she let me be her editor?
She has
One of learning
Two of Church and Family
Three of Motherhood
Four of Discovery and Revelation
and Five of me.
She thinks this is prose, a post,
journaling a truth to send my way
to maybe send me away.
This handsome disclaimer that she is —
Does she know that she has made me poetry?

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What is the difference between
Making love, poetry, and a prayer?

Your tongue tastes like honesty
In my mouth.

I want to meet you in that spot,
Where God comes through.

This, this is a daily practice.