Tag Archives: Trust

mercy may rain down

20 Oct

I pulled the entire damn thing  off

and started again –

and for a few days I breathed easy

resting on the pillow of my roofer’s assurances –

his reshingling was foolproof he said–

and I wrapped myself in his confidence and

my homework.

this roof is only one thing in a long series of large playings out

for the necessary things

such as air and heat

and water and waste–

a difficult year

in a decade of years

that has me asking the sky

what is the message?

what is the metaphor?

what do I not see that I need to see, please?

Is there a message for me here?

or should I open an umbrella to the raininess of life?

mercy mercy me oh why.

we surrender will

and continue until the last


enters and destroys

what was temporary anyway.

we rise up again and again

against the elements

relearning how to shelter

against the relentless turning of ages

oblivious I am how short my moments are to the trees

to the hills

to the ocean who used to own this land

it is no wonder

me no bigger than a drop

in all of this

that I can not understand

why the roof

will not stop the rain

or any blessed thing

before I’m gone.

we’ll see, won’t we

4 Apr

The bell of truth will never stop ringing.

I may try to silence it, hanging out where I hear no truth, trying to mingle and fit in, but the authentic self will never let me settle for less than what is real – BUT real is strange.

Real can look so many different ways – real can look the exact opposite of what was expected or wanted.  The me who went to the party and met the expectations looked more the part. I’m addressing that one.  Nope.  Not it, not for you.

Praying certain prayers, signing up for the truth at all costs, handing over the reigns to the ineffable, brings about a certain intensity.  The one who makes this prayer finds herself first in line for the ride that starts at the mouth of a dark cave with an imperceptible track, which starts out with a stomach dropping descent  – which would be exciting if it didn’t look and feel so much like death.

My path doesn’t let me hide in my bed,  for long.  My trajectory doesn’t allow me to tie security down or live a life for safe keeping – it allows the reality of what naturally unfolds to rule – which might mean giving away my last dollar, or giving up the dream of what I thought would happen, or standing at the fancy party unavoidably in dirty, inappropriate clothes, sneezing embarrassingly in public so the woman next to me can hand me a tissue, crying in empathy or standing open yet unmoved.

This path might give me a million dollar house and have the wind carry it down into a gaping abyss the very next second.   There is not a way to keep all safe, to bank it away, to know what is next.  I cannot know.   Rhyme nor reason cannot be had.

To not know what is next is the truth for everyone – but there are certain ways of being that seem to shield one from that reality.  Uncertainty will visit everyone, nevertheless.  For those involved in the reckless signing over of the control, there is a flow found in stepping into the great unknowing in every minute.

I woke this morning to find that my college roommate has cashed her chips in for this life.  She had a series of events in a short time that caused her to employ her human right for self-determination, and now she is gone.  I send her and her family love and peace beyond what seems possible to muster, beyond the boundaries so seemingly solid on this locked-down earth.

Defining of what is good and what is bad is way beyond my skill level.

The old buddhist teaching about the farmer and his horse comes to mind; We’ll see  is always the clear view of the swings of good and bad fortune.

Who can ever really know anything at all, with certainty?  Isn’t there great freedom in this not knowing?  Do you ever meet anyone along the way who looks you dead in the eye, full tilt into the I don’t know, one who is more enticing than the ones who think they know, the accredited, the acclaimed?

I would like to meet you in courageous unknowing!

walking on the fields of slaves

24 Jan

Closing eyes while facing the setting sun,

over marsh and salty creeks,
provides a primitive script
on the inside of my pink-skinned lids.
i was the cave dweller who carved
notches for the ones I’ve been.
i run my cursor over the alligator skin
encoded with the story of all time,
left here for me –
thinking there is no way
she will miss it, this time.

i see the structure of my mundane thoughts
solid like walls built on each side – but i can
push them back with my
shadowy arms.
my house is
a cardboard house, with folding lines preset
to make it gone in a new york minute.
WOLF may huff and puff –
but i tell him,
put your predatory mind at rest:


give you my house
and my piggie flesh too
no need for a scene.

listen to the drone of rush hour traffic
while my feet touch the land of original settlers.
blood and sweat in the dirt and air,
they are for dinner, whole.
I am thinking again
and the mind conjures
up a rule that I am only pulled down
by that which i have not healed – what
does that mean?
do I/i remember my days as slave,
as master,
beast and bird?

when i move in the world,

i have become
a piece of the sky
in a sports bra.
there is room for every
crazy thing that i can imagine.
the I has forgotten,

but now i remember

the very next person/animal/plant/or insect that i cross
has chosen to cross my path for a holy encounter.
There is only now to

pray as i enter the post office –
talk to my sliver of chocolate –
and study the morse code of the dishwashers whirring
moving my hips to the swoosh:
no need to escape to the cave
any more.
The cave moves within me
as dark and silent
as can be –
a black hole
in motion –
time behind her curving path.

High Holy Day

4 Oct




A body temple

in the woods.

A name  inscribed

in the book

of breezes,

a student of mystery,

only that I wonder

about the sound

of buzzard’s wing feathers

as I surprise him in repose –

that, and I wonder too

about the color of his head

so red,

mirror of

his last meal:




Question for the ages:

how does an alligator hold on

in a current,

his eyes and snout only

above the tide

to take in air,

to surprise his prey?

Need I study anything else?

Sun, moon, hermetic mysteries,

numbers, spirits, places to travel.

I’ve cut my connections with

my sewing sheers,

and set myself adrift

in unknowing,

everywhere there is no seat on the pew.

Who is leading this service?

The minion of trees

are gathered

and versed in the most ancient of prayers

whispered today,

the holies of holy

where their leaves mark

the start of sky.


alligator in the tidal creek

Alligator holding still, can you see him?

this section of the stream

5 Sep


Charlotte by Aufzehengehen

I have balanced between my daughters’ needs and my own every day for the past 19 years; always, they needed to be a constant front and center consideration.  This slowing section of the stream has been a while in coming, it seems helpful for me to acknowledge.  Years I fantasized about a little more mental space, a bit more quiet, more individual freedom.  But now, as what I imagined for years is being given back to me in small increments, I am at a choice point.  I am resisting a knee-jerk impulse to fill space up with anything not worthy of my time or focus.

Stillness is a gift that wants to be opened.

There are voices that say, get moving, make something happen, change things up, you are a nobody choosing to do  so so much alone.   These voices make me want to jump out of the raft and start kicking – maybe I even want to  buy an outboard motor to blast through this part of the river.

I do not silence these voices, I do not call them silly;  I am giving them space to fluster about. When they quiet down, I point out the beauty in the trees on the bank, the water birds standing watch, I am encouraging a long look at the clouds, I am saying to them gently, there is nothing you can miss out on.  You have worked hard to clear yourself up for this space, now lie in it, bask in it.  Do not get up do not rush on do not paddle down to some rapids of your own making.  Life as you want it cannot leave you behind.

The stillness has me loving my own company.  I like how little I make myself make small talk.  I know my story, so I do not have to repeat it.   I love the lack of explanation needed to enjoy a walk in nature with just me.  I listen to girls as they come and go.  I nod.  They want to know I am here, the jumping off point to which they return, again and again.  While I enjoy their presence, I do not demand their company.  I give them my full attention, when they stop by.

Last weekend, I almost stepped on a snake as I was walking a sunny path at an old rice field.  The silence and stillness indwelling in me allowed me to  hover mid step and turn on a dime to give him space.  I retreated without worry of threat, and he did too; he was a good 5 feet long.  He slowly made his way across the path into the shady woods, without worry or hurry.  We watched each other.   I’ve been trying to identify him with no luck online, though I know he had no rattlers to shake.

I love this part of my little life path.  I am in no hurry, though a million concerns lie and wait about my future.  I am holding still, trying or rather flowing into a new way of existing in trust in beauty in silence in stillness, allowing  the clarity to come before I make a move.

I chose to re-listen to one of Neil Kramer’s great Roamcasts  with my spaciousness today – randomly selected – and I got a familiar overlapping (around the 18:29 mark) with the place in the stream in which I find myself trying to describe here:  http://neilkramer.com/roamcast-6-unmaking-empire.html  :  then NK posts a beautiful piece of  Hermit art…wink wink nudge nudge – hi ho, off to my cave I go…

hermit cave


Moritz von Schwind (1804–1871) painting, A Player With A Hermit

In contrast, however, my bedside dream journal is full of my ex-spouse.  Perhaps I am working through in the night what seems a non-issue in the day.  I feel at peace with those 20 plus years, accountable for my part in the learning, yet in my dream last night I stole his new RV to much condemnation of everyone in the dream world; the more I tried to justify, the more alone and misunderstood I felt.  I set off on my own, on foot, after I was unable to turn the headlights on and got tracked down.  The lone journey on foot seems apropos for where I am.

Ah, the journey.  We all have them.  7 billion plus pairs of eyes. Every night, 7 billion plus dream  bubbles floating up from planet earth – infinity all the way up and all the way down; how many lives have I lived?  Ultimate freedom feels mine – any choice – any potential playing out – and I am just one potentiality at a time, slowed down light so I can enjoy it as it happens.


this girl

5 Jun

What, are you magic, Chloe?

Yes, Yes you are!

Someone around here has been dreaming big and aligning herself with making what she wants come true.

In the Spring, there were not enough funds to make her college choice happen.

A long and winding road has led us to be less prepared for this transition than I would have hoped,

but always, we are dealt the perfect hand!

We have done our best to start over – but at times – I admit – I

can allow the day to day to limit my awareness of all that is possible.

I sign into my computer with a password “allpossible” everyday at work to remind me –

but still, when the figures on paper don’t add up – I can forget.

Chloe believed it was possible, and she lined herself up with making it happen.

She also taught her mom a thing or two along the way.

This girl:

chloe sunny

liked to see me sweat;

she made the journey seem uphill,

but by plugging along, scrambling for every last cent,

she has made college a happening.

She has been awarded 7 small scholarships –

she asked family, faculty, foundations for help;  she wrote essays, filled out

mega paperwork, and now, it appears, she has danced herself into a freshman year.

I have learned in this process to TRUST.

None of this moved forward with my worry.

Nothing happened from my inability to see solutions.

The provisions were there all along, each step of the way;  she figured it out, and I am

overcome with joy, gratitude and amazement for the gifts that wait for us to open them.

Yay, Chloe, the College of Charleston, Honors College, Biology Major, can-do, trusting girl!  You teach me oodles, every day!


20 May

Only one friend  has ever told me her IQ;  she had a high one, and she much identified with her quick comprehension and multiple, impressive degrees.  I enjoyed her edgy sarcasm that felt refreshing amongst all the proper moms on the playground.

But her cleverness, after a few glasses of wine, became a cruel streak which she used to debilitate others and build herself up.  She came into my life with a gift; she helped me to demystify the mind.  She helped me see that being intelligent and well-educated did not lead one to happiness and heart opening.  Obvious, I know, but up to that point, I had some faulty thoughts in this area.

She also helped me to detach from the importance of my own words.  I remember the feeling of being hurt whenever I was cut off in conversation.  This friend, in her verbal cruelty, showed me that  a cut off  in conversation might be a blessing, a break to take a breath, switch gears, a chance to be more mindful in our words.     What this friend began in me has been furthered by my kids:  they get so tired of my words and explanations.

They are always cutting me off.

They say to me all the time, “just tell me what you want me to do; don’t say because.”      They want me to just say what I want, but not to say why.

Often, when I use an explanation for whatever I am asking, or doing, or thinking, there is no explanation necessary.

I am grateful for the reason to stop and just trust what they are telling me.   For a while when they said to me, “Don’t say because,” I was confused…what does that mean?    They were showing me that mostly the WHY is self-evident and over-explanation is tedious to listen to.  Let me give an example:

“You really need to clean up your room because you have been losing things lately and your dirty clothes are not making it into the hamper to get clean.”  Ugh.  I don’t like even typing that.

They know all of this already.  I can say:  “Clean up your room.  Put your dirty clothes in the laundry.”

Or better yet,  “What do you think needs to be done in your room today?”

This over-explaning does not only apply to parenting.  I am beginning to suspect it is more universal.

When Eden was sitting beside me while I was grading essays, she told me to stop explaining so much.  I  feel compelled to write out explanations to students telling them not only what is incorrect, but also explaining why it is incorrect and explaining how to correct.  Goodness, overkill!  “They don’t read all of that, mom.  If they really want to understand, they will look it up or they will ask you.”

Something clicks inside of me.

Ah, explanations are a lack of trust!

I feel like I need to explain my actions or requests “because”  I don’t trust you to get it; or I don’t trust myself in asking for it.  I am not trusting my students to learn on their own when I offer all of this explanation.  And the truth, they don’t read all of my statements; most just look for the number grade and move on.  All that work, dust in the wind.  🙂

I am going to work on eliminating the word “because” in my home and at school and see if I can.

I think I will speak more clearly, more powerfully.


Well, the answer isn’t because…


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