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This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 2: What made your soul feel most nourished this year?
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.
this year,
and every year before it,
it is always
simply this:
words
.
.
Because that’s what we do, isn’t it, when we come to the end of our rope (or leaf)?
We hang on until we have the strength to climb back up again.
I took this picture back in May, and while, in general (as a gardener) I consider snails to be the enemy, I had to admire this one, sound asleep on the tip of this leaf, seemingly unconcerned about his position in life.
He got to the end and took a nap. And though I wasn’t there to witness it, I’m certain that when he woke, he started the climb back up, perhaps had a little snack, and carried on. {That is, unless he was eaten by a bird first.}
For me, all the best lessons come from nature. I think we forget, in this techno-virtual world we live in, that we are part of this chain, that in truth, the same rules apply to us. Oh, we want it to be different, we want to be above all that, ignore those rules, think we have conquered the laws of nature.
And perhaps we have, a little. But when it comes right down to it, when we take ourselves out of the modern conveniences that we’ve surrounded ourselves with, we are just as vulnerable as a snail on a leaf. And just as tenacious.
Maybe, on the days when life seems so overwhelming, all we really need is a nice long nap. A bask in the sun. A moment to collect ourselves before we carry on.
It’s all an uphill climb, isn’t it? But I like to think that the view from the top will be glorious.
And if it isn’t, well, then I guess I will stop and take a nap and dream it that way.
And start again, and again and again and again.
Who knows, perhaps I’ll never really get there. Perhaps that’s the point.
It’s the naps that count. The hanging on. The pauses.
The listening.
.
..
.
How do I feel on this first day of December? (see question below)
Calm, broken, love, light. In that order.
And three out of four ain’t bad.
.
..
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This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 1: How do you feel, on this first day, in your mind? In your body? In your heart? In your soul?
::
The snow came just before Thanksgiving, making life feel a tiny bit magical and bringing us together, here at home, in the way that snowstorms do.
For the past few days I’ve been surrounded by family and food and snow and blankets and books and fires.
My body still doesn’t feel so good, but my heart feels wonderful.
Filled with love and gratitude, hope and happy.
A snow globe I’d be glad to stay in.
It seemed like a big year (it was definitely a big number). It seemed like something momentous should happen, something grand accomplished, some milestone achieved that would mark time’s passing in a less than usual way.
And it was, and it wasn’t. It did, and it didn’t.
In truth, it was another year very much like all the years before it, and for that, I am grateful. I didn’t achieve the goals I set for myself, although I did make progress towards them. And I am okay with that. Because the truth is, life happens. The truth is that today is one more day on my life calendar, and the truth is, this is the day that matters most. The one I’m in, right now.
I’m waiting for the results of more medical tests today, and hoping for good news.
I’m looking out the window of my studio just now and it’s a gorgeous winter wonderland, made even better by the fact that I don’t have to drive anywhere.
My son is already home for the holiday, and we had a nice evening together last night, just chatting and being together.
I am re-reading The Book Thief, because something told me it was just the right time to do so.
I’m looking at my snow-covered life and making snow angels in my mind. I’m rolling around in the ordinary magic that makes up this very ordinary day in a very ordinary year in a very ordinary life.
And trust me, I mean that in all the best possible of ways.
I’m reveling in the ordinary. This moment right now with the house so quiet and snow still falling and a cup of tea in my hands to warm them.
I’m going to make oatmeal for breakfast.
And savor the simple truth of this moment.
I’m going to say goodbye to 50 and hello to 51. I always have liked odd numbers best.
I’m going to give this new year a big hug and ask it to join me.
I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends.
you cannot deny the light
the way it colors everything
with the existence of shadow
i see hope in the mirror
of cracked faces
something deeper than darkness
some glimmer of innocence and
arbitrary renewal
random patterns weaving evidence
of participation
the glow of reverence
your compass leads the way
with no reflection
crazed crackled map
of delicate edges
leading to your last deliverance
with your heart
with your mind
with your soul
refuse
to listen
to ask permission
to be defined
your music
is your legacy
your song
your essence
refuse to be silenced
slice through the dark
with the call
of your hunger
unleash your fury
keen
in the presence
of light
warmth of sun
melting midnight crystal
the flag of patience
waves a cold, cold breeze
one touch too soon
and all will crumble
A good word to describe what I’m feeling just now as I navigate my way through a medical system that seems to work in all ways backward.
Frosted as in, “That really frosts my cookies.”
Which is a phrase that makes me laugh, and I have no idea what it really means, but the fact that it makes me laugh is enough.
For now.
Because if I don’t laugh, I’m going to cry. Or yell.
Now, who wants a cookie?
and this is my life right now.
i focus on the beautiful part,
the first dusting of snow,
the wind in tall grasses,
12 crows in the beige back field.
things taken for granted
are cherished once again.
frustration is an ugly word,
an impossible puzzle.
this word sits on my shoulder these days,
tap tap tapping… just to make certain
i do not forget.
i tell myself this will pass.
i tell myself that spring will come
with tiny green shoots and blood red roses.
i tell myself, again and again.
a bluejay lands outside my window,
a message to stay strong.
fight back.
rosehips and berries offer food
from a dry, barren landscape.
we eat, together.
and this is my life right now.
as i stood there waiting in a dust filled corner
smote and smitten with the angle
of a sun designed to rip my heart out
while you cursed and carried on
everything is always locked
but the eyes of this dark-haired girl
in a poster tacked to the blank back wall
her empty stare covering the hole
you drunk-punched open
on a night i will always remember
she knows everything about you
and i can’t read that droll expression
yet if i stand here long enough
in this spot of dancing light
my shadow will become her
