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?


The Goddess Rambles

So, the thing is, they expect so much from us here,

tending to the children, and to the work, and these bodies, and egos,

and the other challenges men craft for themselves.

And then there is all this breathing to do, and then all the air molecules everywhere,

that are SO interesting. And moments to savor.

And I just can’t seem to square how to hold it all at the same time.

“What is the question?” is exactly the question.

So some of us can’t, you know, hold it all together.

And there are great warnings about that happening –

“You’d better hold it together” “C’mon, man pull yourself together”

And the best, in the delivery room — did you hear me,

IN THE MIDDLE OF BIRTHING — they say to me:

“We need you hold on just a little more, just breathe, honey.”

“Breathe?” I thought, “That’s what got me here in the first place!”

If the breathing and the loving and the waiting to become

weren’t so excruciatingly compelling, holding on and breathing

wouldn’t require instruction.

That’s the thing, in fact, there are classes in breathing, breathing practices,

some people even go so far as to make it into breath work.

So, some of us just can’t hold it all, all at the same time.

And that can go two ways, of course, you can fall into either side.

You end up either completely lost to the human race

— or completely found.

And more than half the time, the rest of them,

the ones who still believe there is something to hold on to,

they think that looks like crazy.

Though a few people get lucky, and they decide they just can’t hold it all

they just know it is pointless to try to see the point,

so, they decide not to.

And they let it go.

The other word for that here is they “Become.”

They Become either Insane or Enlightened.

And as far as I can figure,

the only difference I can see between the ones who lose it “wrong” and

the ones who lose it “by grace” is that the latter have learned to,

you guessed it, breathe, at least better than they’ve learned to do.

Those humans, they have trouble holding all the e-mail and appointments and

“what do you want for dinners” AND all the breathing and seeing,

so they just drop the part that’s harder to hold.

So they let go.

And breathe.

I think this will be much easier if I join them.

Something happened. It’s called Undefended Love.

Something happened.

It was just a thought, really, when you look deeply enough. So some thought happened, and everyone involved had really big ideas about what that meant. Big ideas. Thoughts about a thought, as if that is what matters. But this time, we did something different – we tried letting this thing completely BE rather than trying to make something else happen.

We let the thing be and we paid attention, and that lead us to the thoughts and then the thoughts to unveil the feelings, and we let those into the light as well. And those all just turn out to be either desire or aversion, and we let that be, and under that, we could see the deeper truth, and I’ll tell it to you now:

It isn’t about the thing. It isn’t about the thought. It isn’t about the desire or the aversion, or about what happened or who you think you are. It’s about where this all comes from, and what is below that. That’s the lesson. The thing, the decision, the outcome of that decision, these are nearly irrelevant.

Letting myself be fully seen, to see with undefended love, has changed me. I think I just shed half a person and am now bare, light, released from a lifetime of story. That thought experiment brought so much into focus for me. Life is short. I want my time to matter. I want to live in love and nothing else matters. In love with art, in love with myself, in love with my people, in touch with whatever those people call God. I want each moment, the love making ones, the ones where I am a wretched puddle on the floor, the ones where I’m preparing a meal for myself and my family, to be fully experienced, unburdened by what I think should happen or how I feel about what happened before.

Today, the absurdity of e-mail and washing dishes and that there are practical things like bills to pay and train schedules is making me laugh. I used to think it was about these things. Sometimes, I used to even cry about these things. Ha!

So I say to myself: Give the people attached to these things a bare look. Such sweet small souls, each carrying these giant heaping piles of armor and baggage, making these Herculean and inherently flawed attempts to connect through all that. Look at yourself doing the same. Isn’t it amazing how much energy we have to keep trying this experiment in belonging, in knowing ourselves?

And then I say: I love you.

And that is all that matters.

Cultivating Meaning

They did a study where they asked volunteers:
“Would you like to build a Lego robot?
Here are the instructions and I’ll give you Five Dollars when you are done.”
People like to create, and rewarding them is good motivation,
until the researcher thanked them for their work,
and dismantled their creation right in front of them and asked:
“Do you want to built it again? I’ll give you another five dollars.”

Turns out, most people won’t keep going, even for tangible benefits,
even a fun and easy task that they would normally do for free,
if they feel that their effort is futile, meaningless.
Most of us get frustrated, throw up our hands and walk out of the study.

But the sand mandala makers remember the truth,
they intentionally cultivate a practice of creation and destruction,
and accept the invitation to be fully present in each moment
In that first moment when the surface is blank and nothing exists but an idea,
And during the beautiful aching anticipation of the first colorful pattern emerging,
And when it is part way there, and their backs ache and they long to sneeze,
Then, when it is complete and the community comes to shake their heads in awe,
And even on the humble walk to the river, solemn and celebratory in knowing what comes next,
Then again in the moment of letting go, scattering the temporary illusion of meaning
Back to what it has always been…
Chaos, devotion and love.

To this, I bow.


Where is the place this all ends up?

In my heart, I believe, is where this ends up.
Or is it in God? Aren’t they the same?
This is not for my mind to ponder; it is for my soul.

Today I will live steeped in the incompleteness of us,
know that whatever happens,
we are clearly only in the middle of the beginning.

I live in the awkward, imperfect push and pull
between my faith that all will happen as it should
and my ego’s drive to make it be what I think it should be.

All I can offer you is an invitation to join me,
in surrendering attachment to where this ends up,
by embracing completely where it is today.

13/30 2012 The human body replaces all of its cells every 7 to 8 years *

I am not the same woman who birthed you
who laid awake every night aching to be touched
woke too early to each redundant morning
incapable of feeling the rising sun of your smile.

Yet the memory cells are somehow still there
and I daily feel the need to whisper an apology to you
for not feeling the joy of being surrounded
by the PTA-boy-scout-church-goers who are nice enough,
but have nothing to say on matters of the heart.

So sometimes you might be sitting there innocently enough
click click clicking your way through your MineCraft life
and be shocked to notice me standing on the edge of the couch
clutching my chest for air bellowing out my rage
that has nothing to do with you
sweet funny love of my life.

* Inspired by Sam Teitel, Simone Beaubien & Sue Savoy

Here Now

There is an instant
after the big hand clicks into place
but before the chiming begins.

This is the 4:45 rooster
puffing his feathers and blinking
before he remembers who he is
and starts all– that– racket.

It is precisely the moment
between making eye contact with your lover
and knowing how her day was.

Pause here with me in this space.

Suspend our Ego wants
and our Id demands
and Pay Attention.

There is infinity in this place
between going and coming
before becoming
after the ending
where Truth awaits us.

Original- 11/30/2010