no fear in the dark

“There is, of course, no need to fear the dark, much less prevail over it. Not that we could. Look up in the sky on a starry night, if you can still find one, and you will see that there is a lot of darkness in the universe. There is so much of it, in fact, that it simply has to be the foundation of all that is. The stars are an anomaly in the face of it, the planets an accident. Is it evil or indifferent? I don’t think so. Our lives begin in the womb and end in the tomb. It’s dark on either side… The only thing I can hope for is that, if we won’t come to our senses and search for the darkness, on nights like these, the darkness will come looking for us.”

Here’s the full article: http://www.nytimes.com/2014/12/20/opinion/why-we-need-the-winter-solstice.html?_r=0

7947c-p541

on renewal

“Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.

And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.

When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.

Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.

Listen to carrion — put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.

As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go.

Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.”

Wendell Berry

should i worry

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

~Mary Oliver

trusting

trusting
remembering this week that the cycles will happen… the sun will rise and the sun will set. the moon will grow full and then slowly offer the darkness of the night. and all i have to do is trust.
 
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”
― Mary Oliver

everything doesn’t happen for a reason

everything doesn’t happen for a reason

A timely post for me on this day.  Though I was working on something in my own words, this pretty much sums it up.

For all those who have grieved and more importantly, for those who are close to some who has or is grieving.

http://www.timjlawrence.com/blog/2015/10/19/everything-doesnt-happen-for-a-reason

here’s a blurb: “So if anyone tells you some form of get over it, move on, or rise above, you can let them go.
If anyone avoids you amidst loss, or pretends like it didn’t happen, or disappears from your life, you can let them go.
If anyone tells you that all is not lost, that it happened for a reason, that you’ll become better as a result of your grief, you can let them go.
Let me reiterate: all of those platitudes are bullshit. “

this place

There are years that ask questions and years that answer,
Years that fall apart and years that come together…
There are years that cry and years that laugh,
Years that wonder
And years that strike and clap and thunder.
. . .
Your job isn’t to know — not right now, not quite yet.
Your job is simply
to breathe,
to trust,
to rest
To know that it is all a part of the path —
The mystery and the clarity
The hardship and delight
The darkness and the light alike.
. . .
Dear One,
Haven’t you heard?
“This place where you are right now
God circled on a map for you.”

(thanks SK for sharing this one)

the eve of 3

I sit with Vida. The night is quiet, only the crickets make themselves known. Occasionally one of our ducks chirps softly. I imagine her wiggling her little butt into her straw nest, deep enough to feel alone in the midst of her 37 house-mates. The landscape is dark other than the light of Disco Gnome who resides humbly in the garden on slug and rabbit patrol.

I sit cross legged, encompassed by our round home. A candle flame dances.

The hospital bed was picked up today and the house is back to being our home. Spaces organized and comfortable.  Sadie is on the deck. Vida next to me. Steve enjoying music with friends.

I am present here. I feel whole. The week has been good. Teaching yoga again feels fresh, authentic and inspiring.  And my body managed to maneuver through these last two days without pain. For this I am grateful.

Yet, when I lift my head and open my owl eyes, I am reminded: The inside of my elbows are both sealed with bandages from the two IV punctures needed prior to todays CT Scan. To my left, a small bowl of 8 pills – supplements and laxatives to keep me strong and attempt regularity – stare intensely at me. My journal to my right. I just completed my daily entry: foods eaten, energy level – 10, poop – none, pain level – 2, drugs taken – the norm, other – CT Scan.  For a moment I recall what my journal was about in middle school and I blush a little. And for that moment I yearn for the problems of a 12 year-old.

I finish my pills and pack my chemo bags. Tomorrow is round 3. 3 of 12. Somehow I have come to know how to pack for a journey with a destination that’s completely unknown. Round 2 kicked our asses. I was sick. I was dizzy. I vomited at a restaurant. I slept for days. I got a rash. I couldn’t taste. It sucked to eat because food tasted like slime. My back hurt, a lot. But I didn’t lose my hair. And I was never alone.

Will this time be any better? Could it be worse? There is no way to know. The unknown is the journey.

I go to bed in the midst of this quiet, dark night. I know that in the morning I will step through our beautifully, handmade screen doors, into the light of a day filled with an unknown darkness. There will be no crickets there, no Vida, no light from the gnome. But I know I will not be alone. My feet will take me and my heart will follow.      I entrust this is how the dance goes.

My heart is burning with loveFullSizeRender (1)
All can see this flame
My heart is pulsing with passion
like waves on an ocean
my friends have become strangers
and I’m surrounded by enemies
But I’m free as the wind
no longer hurt by those who reproach me

I’m at home wherever I am
And in the room of lovers
I can see with closed eyes
the beauty that dances
Behind the veils
intoxicated with love
I too dance the rhythm
of this moving world

~ Rumi