holding the door

30 Jul

I am sure, tonight,

the cricket

is calling me to task,

for even as I have a list

of things that must be done,

he is telling me

that there isn’t a plan outside of sleep

and maybe then waking, again.

I am losing my fear of being nobody –

having no thing to say and so

now I can listen to Jiminy.

This nobody place

provides a washing for the eyes.

When people start to glow

a pure white light on their outer edges,

I stop

trying to make sense of their

words and just watch

them spill out of their borders.

I have a bag of magnetized words

that I am trying to trade for silent and suspended water,

but these clouds are still being perfected

in a factory just past my view.

I am part of the process, converting my thoughts

from language to mist –

Someday, I know, rounding a corner,

we will  come upon

a quiet sage, holding the emergency exit

in the plane that took us up to white towers

that we created together.

Have I met him tonight, my bodhisattva, in the form of:

Cricket?

His green, persistent song

tells me to slide on into clean,

brown sheets – making sleep my job.

I am slipping into other lives,

out of plans and words,

mapping new terrain

beneath a canopy of chirps.

 

 

24 Responses to “holding the door”

  1. smilecalm July 30, 2014 at 3:28 pm #

    you make
    such a lovely
    non-self 🙂

    • marga t. July 30, 2014 at 4:37 pm #

      A public service announcement
      could save us all some years, money and grief,
      if we all could only know
      the lovely that is already here by just being 🙂
      thank you for seeing, and I see you too!

  2. risinghawk July 30, 2014 at 3:45 pm #

    This is excellent! Peace . . .

    • marga t. July 31, 2014 at 9:04 am #

      Oh, there you are. I lost this comment for a bit. Peace back and all around! 🙂

      • risinghawk July 31, 2014 at 3:29 pm #

        🙂

  3. viewpacific July 30, 2014 at 3:48 pm #

    Last night Jiminy called to me, too, and lulled me into delicious sleep. It was the birds who began my morning with their songs.

    • marga t. July 30, 2014 at 4:38 pm #

      the bluebird of happiness, by any chance? So wonderful to share these
      living moments with you, Vincent!

  4. Hariod Brawn July 30, 2014 at 4:03 pm #

    ‘I have a bag of magnetized words that I am trying to trade for silent and suspended water. . . ‘

    Wonderful imagery here and throughout Marga; this piece struck me as being particularly intense.

    With much gratitude and respect.

    Hariod.

    • marga t. July 30, 2014 at 4:39 pm #

      Thank you, Hariod. I was just reading of your wonderfully lighted hills. The earth is shrinking for me today!

      • Hariod Brawn July 30, 2014 at 7:37 pm #

        ‘. . . mapping new terrain beneath a canopy of chirps?’

        Hariod. ❤

  5. Alison and Don July 30, 2014 at 4:29 pm #

    I can rarely think of anything profound or intelligent or poetic to say. Just know that I was a little transported to the sweet nobody place reading this. We do a silent retreat this weekend. Maybe I’ll fall a little deeper. I seem to skim the surface when I know it’s a whole universe.

    • marga t. July 30, 2014 at 4:42 pm #

      You are such a poem; you are! I am always being transported by the unique and precious views you share. Not only that, this lovely picture of you and Don lights up the corner of my world with joy! I will sit with you and Don, from here, a bit this weekend, as we waterski or dive deep, depending on the conditions and gear we bring along. Deep bow of love.

      • Alison and Don July 30, 2014 at 5:17 pm #

        Hoping to leave all my gear at the door 🙂

  6. amandaseesdreams July 30, 2014 at 6:02 pm #

    Oh my gosh Marga I love love love this poem! I agree, you make a glorious nobody! 🙂

    “I am part of the process, converting my thoughts

    from language to mist”

    Ironically, I am now enjoying the mist, all thanks to your words…disappearing into the Golden World of Nobody!! How free how free 😉

    • marga t. July 31, 2014 at 8:20 pm #

      how fun free is, especially with you visiting in the mist. wonder if we can invent a misty font to start playing with on here. oooaaahhhhssss – 🙂

  7. seeingm July 30, 2014 at 7:23 pm #

    The profound beauty of thinking about misting when opening the mouth.

    I was watching a documentary about birds just a few days ago, and with the early morning light as they were welcoming the sun warming up the world, out of their tiny little beaks along with hearing song could be seen the mist of their breath. It was so tenderly beautiful to see.

    Here with this post you are definitely moving into the territory of eloquence provided by “the unicorn words” M 🙂 . I am not joking, this is what is wrapped, packed and ready to make the next journey east with me:

    http://i581.photobucket.com/albums/ss251/beingmaren/wordsintomist.jpg lol

    There were no crickets to be heard last night on the coast during time spent prone in a field sky watching, but Kermit and his friends did keep time to my thoughts as I watched the stars fall. Such a joy to get a peek at the results of the crickets in yours.

    Bless Jiminy and his sisteren. Beautiful share. -x.M

    • marga t. July 31, 2014 at 8:25 pm #

      I am so happy to imagine you and your green friends catching the falling light show! Oh yay.

      The unicorn words are exactly what popped into my mind as the post was forming, exactly! I was thinking about how all words are magnetized, really, after so much human usage! (did you catch the poem on the box on your link? blushing:)

      I would love to see the capture of such tiny mists of breath such as birds make – holds me still just to imagine that.

      Sending you a rainy day sigh from the heart! xoxo! m

  8. Michael July 30, 2014 at 11:29 pm #

    Beautiful. There is something really honest and good about taking time for sleep when sleep is what the time is for. Not letting the world thought flow drive the bus. When you look deeply at it, something doesn’t add up… There’s a wisdom in resting when rest is called for.

    I loved the image of people lighting up and spilling over their borders. That one burned itself into a cluster of neurons. My brain looks like a wall that Wiley Coyote just crashed through at full speed. The edges of the silhouette are still hot. There’s a nobody standing there, though, starting right at me… 🙂

    Michael

    PS – Picked up Reality tonight at the library, so this weekend… it’s on…!

    • marga t. July 31, 2014 at 8:31 pm #

      The image of people lighting up is strangely not imagined; sometimes, at the end of each semester, when the students give their presentations, I cannot listen because I am seeing a glow around them, just like you say – silhouetted and hot white. Such a strange phenomenon, I think of just loosening up the vision of them a bit – looking with love and acceptance for who they are and where they are and their courage for getting up in front of the class, sharing – suddenly, the world is lit up and words don’t make sense in light of their glow. Oh boy, I am such a weird one, anymore 🙂

      I am reading Reality so slowly, going back again and again for many poignant phrases. It isn’t hard to comprehend but seems to point to deeper layers that need some digesting to be understood. I will be curious if it speaks to you.

      • Michael August 1, 2014 at 12:42 am #

        Your practice of witnessing the pure light of your students is beautiful, and I would have no issue adding it to the Long List of Very Real Things That Happen. I think weird is a word we could probably do away with. Maybe we could say, like, I had a dream out loud today, and I think the whole world wobbled and took a new shape. And then we could all nod and know what you mean. Your classroom sounds like an incubator for eggs filled with Beauty and Truth.

        This thing about seeing, truly seeing, is so important I think. Important for what!? Did you hear that! Who said that! Important for inviting the eye of the world to open… You will find I didn’t shut if off very well after tonight’s post, so maybe it’ll make more sense later.

        Thanks for painting doorways in the tunnel wall.

        Michael

  9. reneetamara July 31, 2014 at 8:26 am #

    Somehow my sleeplessness matched me to your poem of intense ease and I thank you for this reminder of thia essential in life: to simply be.

    • marga t. July 31, 2014 at 8:32 pm #

      Oh, I hope sleep found you with ease, just being Renee! (or if not, perhaps a nap may find you, today:)

  10. Kelly Kuhn July 31, 2014 at 3:25 pm #

    So, so beautiful!

    • marga t. July 31, 2014 at 8:33 pm #

      Hey, you, Beautiful! Hope all transitions are smoothing along. xoxox! m

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