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This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 5: What was the greatest risk you took in 2013? What was the outcome?
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.
every day,
i got out of bed.
.
every day,
the sun rose.
.
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This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 4: What have you lost, what are you grieving?
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I sit in the dark of very early morning, pondering this question.
The truth is, I feel I have no right to answer.
The truth is, I feel blessed by the fact that I’ve lost so little. That I have so much.
Not material things, because the truth is, that is not at all where my wealth lies. When it comes to things, I have very little.
But when it comes to life, I am decidedly rich.
The truth is, I’ve yet to experience the kind of earth-shattering loss that will make me grieve for years. There have been a few bumps along the road, friends, and pets that I loved, truly. But all the people I am closest to, all the people I hold close in my heart are still here, in my life.
I could talk about other things I’ve lost, things like time and youth and innocence. But, no matter.
The truth is I am so glad to be here in this life, so happy to be alive, so in love with the beautiful mess that surrounds me, that I have no time to grieve small losses.
I know that someday, this will change. Someday my heart will be broken in ways I can only imagine. Someday there will be devastating losses. This is a truth I cannot escape.
But today, just now, I can only sit here in this chair, in front of this dark window facing east and wait for the sun to rise on another day, a perfectly boring ordinary day that I will do my best to cherish.
Today, just now, I’ve lost little. Regret almost nothing.
I am here.
And I will make that be enough.
In fact, it will be everything.
don’t be afraid of the cracks and wrinkles
the pockmarks and pitfalls
the threadbare and worn spots
this is where you learn
no wait, that’s not right:
this is where you shine
bring your heart out
at least once a year
polish it up
plaster the wounds
give it some air
don’t be afraid
it’s not as fragile as you think
nor as bitter as the taste in your mouth
there is glitter on your tongue
baker’s sugar, marzipan molds
reshape the breaks
repurpose the shards
reuse the molten memories
don’t just lie there
in your mess of sharp edges
bleed a little
.
.
.
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This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 3: What does your heart have to tell you?
Also joining in today over at dVersePoets for Open Link Night.
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This post is part of Reverb 13:
Day 2: What made your soul feel most nourished this year?
::
.
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?
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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
