Unfinished

this is the first poem i've written in months, so even though it's in need of some revision, i'm putting it out there... because i think writing is meant to be shared.

The magic of

Tall, canyoned streets,

Sunset reflections at the lake front,

Sirens layered on symphonies

Of color and activity,

The sidestreet blues bar where smiley, surly Joe

Called up groups of white, Latino, and Asian musicians

To join the jam – they play

From the belly and light up the eyes of the watching weary,

The el train to DePaul on a Cosby street,

Or my beloved Mexico beckoning through a dark-eyed bartender,

Serving tropical, smoky-sweet and tangy-tongued tastes

To sultry samba sways.

Is it possibility, or triumph?

Full bellied, I clattered down your streets, enamored of

Traffic, of industry, of old bridges facing down steel-windowed facades.

I lusted for you without knowing, and

You sated my desire

Until I could only brim with the buzzing of excitement.

Yes,

I was born here, close by.

I came into the world and quickly walked away,

And in my absence you grew glorious.

Thirty years later you called out to me, and I found you,

Arriving at myself

This perfect blue-sky day.

Unbelieving in my good fortune, our fair match.

These days I am more easily captivated by a place,

Falling in love with cities is the new high,

Now that my ring finger is fixed on one man and sobriety simplifies.

Now I live to discover new homes for my heart

And the world beckons endlessly, the many-metropolised Medusa.

Explore, discover, enjoy, she whispers.

Some cities are certainly sexy.

Mutual attraction, or fated fantasy?

Is it in the forgetting of self

that accompanies adulthood,

making the senses ring when life's nectar drips into view?

Or have I earned this appreciation

through toiling hours and quiet questioning? 

What a world! What a life! I'll take you with me when I go,

Chicago.

Not mine

2 little whos
(he and she)
under are this
wonderful tree

smiling stand
(all realms of where
and when beyond)
now and here

(far from a grown-
up i&you-
ful world of known)
who and who

(2 little ams
and over them this
aflame with dreams
incredible is)

Vulnerability, and the Journey

Today I got sucked into a major existential moment. But it feels necessary. I blame the upcoming treinticentennial (yes, I made that up).

First, you HAVE to watch this TED talk. Talk about getting down to brass tacks. And please note that the author must go in to the question with her whole self in order to speak to the human condition with any real knowledge.

Also, I'm in love with a blog. Momastery. She does the real, hard, beautiful thing with panache.

Here's a poem from someone else, to guide your days:
Desiderata
Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its shams, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.
-Max Ehrmann

I began asking myself a few days ago how exactly I know that God is speaking and moving in my life. I'm getting some indirect but inescapable answers. The life moment I am in is particularly vulnerable. And I really want to have the courage to be IN IT and love it and accept it and wrestle with it and above all BELIEVE that I deserve great things. That my story can (continue to) be great. Which is to say, it would appear that I may lose as much as 60% of my work/pay in just 3 weeks, and the chance of me getting clarity immediately is slim.

But this is where my heart is :

to be known was always the goal
and the fear
to really go - out there - with all of it
like standing naked on a highway,
which i have never done.
what is it about this world that turns fearless babies' hearts
to worry
and makes us henceforth crawl our way back
to authenticity?

why were we separated?
the big bang shuddered us eventually into life
of struggle and imbalance
and fear.
why not stay in the sweet oneness
where questions don't lead us into the dark
where we must fight with ourselves
to find a true way
based in creativity and love?

the early peoples understood that these
were the fundamental questions:
who decided we should know both good and evil?
and what in the world can reconcile us
to that sweet whole from whence we came?

my question to the inward and outward skies remains:
is the journey back really the blessing or the curse?
but that is not for me to decide.
(poem by me)

My Own Geography

David Brooks just made me cry. Not surprising that he did, but how he did, and the type of crying. He often says things that frustrate or depress me. This time it is maybe the opposite.


The key point: Don't try to be everyman. Be yourself. In particular, know where you are from, even. A simple thought. A good thought. Based on Springsteen, somewhat surprisingly (or not, depending on how much you know about Springsteen).

And this is hard for me, because part of who I am is inherently pluralistic, sampling styles. It's a huge part of how I learn what I like and don't like - I take pieces from the people I meet. I merge into their world to see how it feels. I guess what reading David's essay made me realize is this: that can be my way - the eternal explorer, but at the end of the day I still need to know who I am. Where I come from. With my own concrete story.

I currently live in the 13th home of my life. Ooh, that's not a good number. Moving on... Consequently, I have sometimes struggled with the results of the many moves during my life. But actually, I tend to think of my wandering past as a good part of who I am - why I appreciate the friends I have and keep in touch well (ok, better than most at least)... why I enjoy going to new places and don't fear the unknown... why I have a good sense for different parts of the country... and so on. This history is a part of who I am that I value. So the question is, how does that fit into what he's talking about?

Specifically: what is my paracosm? A place where all are welcome, with intuition guiding me, full of heart, proactive, thoughtful... and I needn't change that. The question most plaguing me is, how do I fully HONOR that? Integrate it.

I've been having competing ideas about my writing recently. Specifically, my poetry. Should I try to publish/sell my poems, or just let them be? Should I compile them all into one place so they don't get lost? (Yes.) The tricky part about publishing is that I don't write poetry the way some people say you are supposed to write. My poems aren't about plants and natural phenomena. Or images, necessarily. But neither were Bukowski's! I recently considered submitting to a local poetry publication, until I learned they only accepted poems if they didn't have "I" statements. So I didn't submit. I think all my poems either have an I statement or are about me.

But last winter I discovered Christian Wiman's poetry, who it turns out is also the editor of Poetry itself.... and his poems were reminiscient of mine - spiritual, emotional, personal. So I had the crazy thought that maybe I should submit something to Poetry magazine. As a gift to myself, honoring the importance of my voice, honoring the gift of my writing.

This past weekend I had the great luck of hearing an exceptional poem read (by the author himself) at a wedding. It stunned me with its personality, its poise, its insights. Afterwards, I told the author so and said that it made me reluctant to say I write poetry, since I am not sure I can achieve such awesomeness. And he emphatically said no, no, don't say that. So I won't. I have to respect the man's advice.

The hard part is loving your own gifts enough to put them into the world without also adding your own judgment. There's a difference between working hard and preparing well, and hiding.

I have some hard questions to face about whether or not I've been hiding my gifts by being a mirror of the gifts I see in others. Recently my gifts have been becoming apparent to me inadvertently, one by one, showing up and saying hi. And for now, I am just trying to take note of them so I don't forget who I am. Where I came from. A home that goes back before the moves ever began, and was with me throughout every step.

What's really crazy is that now I'm all out of free NYT articles for the month. Good thing that's just a few more days.

Home again. In the place where my inclinations are real and heard, but my words must be chosen carefully, since what we have created is a forever place. I hear the calls of a favored few, needing to know they are not alone. I even hear the calls of those who blinked out without hellos or goodbyes along the way. Our bodies move us in and out of space, increasingly less likely to reach the same spot twice. I am waiting now for the signs I need to see. I am offering my gratitude to the angels who bring me treasured tokens of joy. Paddling the waves of life is no metaphor, the tides are real, the depths scary. The sun is either hot or hidden, the clouds can always mean rain. I'm looking for the other kayakers, as usual, and keeping my eyes on that point on the horizon where heavenly rest awaits. I know we'll get there while we are still breathing. I have been there before. Just keep moving towards it, just keep afloat. We tell ourselves what we need to know to keep from going under.

cleaning out the poetry cache

my days are infused with lessons
and the themes overlap
the moments work together to tell me things.
i have learned that we get tired
and sometimes the path is so rough that we fall down
but even when the distance between springs is far
we must keep walking

i have learned that opening is painful
and there is resistance on the inside to change
but there are treasures to be found beyond the strain
we must keep breathing

i have learned that life is crazy
and can knock us over without warning
but even when our hearts are broken
we must keep living

i have learned that i know little
and the search for truth is elusive and long
but there is still much to be learned, and so
we must keep trying

i have learned that we are all connected
and no life is borne alone
to have the strength to walk, to breathe, to live, to try,
we must keep loving

poem: reach catch close

perhaps we are all transparent
to one another
shimmering in our frail shells
completely awake and yet asleep
to our own patterns
we pounce on the obvious flaws
of those around us
and then forgive with thoughtless haste
or burdened pride
rarely offering a simple gesture
of recognition
yes we are all innately broken
the holes are rarely filled
in looking back
we discover our own mistakes
and have a choice:
attempt to hide our humanness
behind fragile walls,
or reach through the fabric
to catch each other
in a sweet soft embrace
pulling together
to close the gaps.

poem: her bare shoulder

her bare shoulder

we offer you, sun,
our bodies to be washed in light,
as we live outside
where man-made walls do not separate,
living with vigor, with joy,
letting the freckles appear on our arms
as we lift our children,
as we plant our seeds,
as we reach for each other and squeeze.
there is something powerful
about a woman's shoulder
where the arm begins
the curving shadows of muscle -
it is not the feminine of fainting
or frailty
but it is the feminine of creation
and strength
that comes from giving our bodies
to the light
from living outside, bare with truth,
from offering all that we have
to the world.

sincerity (a poem)

i need words more than they need me
they force my driftless mind into sudden surety
the one direction i can find
i must find
they are a solitary venture
which for me is a necessary escape
from a life filled with responses
a life where i am an evolving creature
ever fastened by the styles and patterns of others
taking on what is necessary to realize my self
i also leave behind my essences
momentarily
a dangerous adventure
(since they are inescapable).

in almost thirty years
i have been a thousand versions of my self
epically losing and finding
my way
i am a willing inhabitant
on this turning earth that somehow
turns hours into lifetimes
i have never resisted the passing of time
and she has begun to show her kindnesses
returning objects that offer solace
in their familiar company
linking me with selves i was once
and always want to be.

i need colors and creations that are only mine
in ways i cannot explain
like the face that stares back at me
with knowing eyes
at once foreign and intimate
she is my destiny and my muse
i realize she is always with me
waiting to see what will be preserved
when i step into my world
start shedding language
shredding intentions and anticipations.
i can feel her more closely now
above the din of instinct's clatter;
i can speak her truths.
is it age making me honest?
or am i relearning something i knew better
once before?

Change

i'm still adjusting
to this my unexpected perfect home
still finding it dreamy
and content
but somewhat shattered by the
completeness of the changes.
the loneliness surprises me
making me wonder if
the task is to get more comfortable being
free to know myself truly
or if i need to practice being
free to be myself anywhere.

The beauty of tears
graces my face
working my way through words
to get my heart into the light
preoccupied by skyward motion
forgetting to watch my step
i fall into you
knocking you off the boat.
we owe each other
attention to the small things
is it easier to celebrate the major victories
than it is to cherish the silent moments
of authentic joy?
is it easier to carry each other's biggest burdens
or to notice the small wounds
forming out of sight?
and who decides what matters most
do we allow each other
to set the standards by which we interact
or do we impose our own values
on relationships?
it is usually the questions
and not the answers
that break me down.

Falling Together

Um this kind of never happens. Two posts in a day? I'm coping, ok? And here's a fresh off the press poem. Which means maybe it's in need of editing? But here it is. 

Falling is always the freest thing

Scary for what it leaves behind:

The solid footing you took for granted

When forming dreams in the sky.

The air is gray and crisp

And my fingers are tingling with the chill

Of October coming into town

My heart is aching with wonder

The distance between us is too much

The person there to care for you

Is driving away to beat the sunset

So we reach out into nothing

Locking eyes in our memories

Pretending not to be afraid

Hoping for a soft landing soon.

at a minimum

giving up the ghost
the dreams that it is clear won't come to pass
the visions in my head from yesterday
time to wake up to
the world as it is
gluttonous and greedy
cold and cheeky
mostly just difficult to dance with
or is it only me?
i want to run to fly to jump to breathe in once
and know that i am at peace
could there be another choice
than frustrated marathons
i know now what you meant
about feeling far away from god
when you felt alone despite your seeking
when you were waiting at the station
realizing that train would never arrive
not in this lifetime
the cruel part of life
is the lack of a rewind button
or a pause
how the sweetest moments can drift by
while you're bent over in pain
and how when you find your need
you find that words won't work
and the passersby pick up the pace
real struggle isn't always beautiful
at least not until the mirror
of reflection rises
but that can take decades
at a minimum.

1. Working out when you're in shape is so much more fun than when you're not. But it also takes longer to feel like you're really DOING something. Problems, I know. Tomorrow morning I'll be going for a run, and that should remind me that I'm not in THAT good of shape - since it's been a few weeks since I've done it.

2. I've started a new habit - writing a long personal email to a long distance friend each day. I happened to be looking back through some old emails, and I used to be truly amazing (ha ha) at keeping in touch, in large part to email. And recently I've been wanting to reconnect, but not being sure how. Enter the email. Oh, and if you want one, just drop me a line and I'll put you on the list. :)

3. I think I'm going to put some poetry up here for a while, when I don't have time/thoughts for a real blog post. I've been feeling how much I need to write and share my writing. It's a huge part of how I define/explain/express myself. I am just not me with out. So, starting now...

I want my life to cover the globe -
seven continents in as many decades,
hear every language from smiling lips,
maybe greet the world through books and films
if fortune doesn't offer moneyed means to get me there.
So each season may be uncomfortably foreign
at first.
But at the end of each year
I hope to peer back into the past,
see pictures of myself laughing with a hundred friends
having grown through every challenge
learned to surf; captained my own ship
made many paths to the sea.
Because what is a life if not the chance to
be everything, fully, moment to moment, day after day,
until the shades are drawn at last.

i hate poems that rhyme.

tell me a story
silent and true
show me the secrets
you've hidden from view
break out the beauty
let go of the fear
hold on to my hand
i'll always be here
if now is not working
we'll just wait awhile
the love is still able
to run cross the miles
the sun is still shining
the way will come clear
and all of your worries
will soon disappear
it's not that i know this
because i am smart
it's that i keep listening
with all of my heart
you don't have to wonder
where peace will emerge
the truth is its waiting
always to be heard
so turn towards the sunshine
stand up on your feet
leave tired old nightmares
alone in the street
there's so much to learn from
and so much to see
this life is adventure
for you and for me.

Creation - Addition

I can't share the book, but I can share the poem!

What Makes a Man

What makes a man?

Is it the glint in his eye-

The dreams he has when he is young

That turn to memories he does cherish

When he is older?

Perhaps the lives he touches

The teachers that mold him

And light his path,

The love he offers,

Friendship of wit and wisdom.

What makes a man?

The strength he carries

Through any storm,

The shelter of his care

He offers to his family

And all in need?

Is it the depth of his mind,

How he opens himself to the world

To take God’s splendors in

And learn from every day

A new revelation?

Is it his willingness

to board the boat of life,

charting waters new to all,

and ride its many waves

in order to see the enduring sunrises?

Lo, a man must be all of these things,

For my father is this man

Who dreams,

Who loves,

Who gives,

Who thinks,

Who journeys on.

the words get harder to match
to the situation
the pulsing in my chest
that comes from the meanders of my mind
harder to understand
harder to explain myself
the further in i get
the more memories pile on top of each other
the more slights i receive and perceive
the sorting gets more difficult
and the neutral audience becomes the holy grail
even when i think i've found it
i'm surprised to find
that i'm really always going to be by myself
in some things
i'm going to be the only one putting me first.
not that there aren't friends out there
it's just that sometimes expectations are all wrong
communication breaks down
your heart gets left behind
"maybe in the future you're gonna come back"
is an empty promise
the you in the future is a new person
and the place you need to come to has moved
you are older, less familiar with the nuances
and i am slightly defeated, weighed down by the waiting
i find this life intoxicating
and i find myself hungover from the insistent push pull let go give in make up
of it all.

Mesilla Moon

ghosts move under a full moon in mesilla
almost shouting their warnings to a stranger as she enters.
five years passed with fanfare and tribulations
i grew wiser perhaps, more distant from the past for certain;
these streets are so familiar and with predictable changes
chain stores on the corners, the good haunts remain
i am also familiar to myself and with predictable changes
i wear your ring now on my finger
it greets me throughout my day with its specialness
as do you, my frenzied fabler.

i remember four girls linking arms here, linking lives fully, thoughtlessly.
i was naive to think that all deep friendship
would stand the test of time and miles
i feel wiser perhaps, sad to have lost you for certain;

those young girls outlived themselves
into more adult lives of busyness and toil
into more adult separations by difference and wounds
outlived the beauties of perfect conversation and commitment
when the world called out to us, glowing and free.

but also 
i was naive to think that the struggles of embarking on a life
would last for long
the alley wanderings, the languid phone calls
i am wiser perhaps, more present to myself for certain;
i am a stranger here and yet not totally gone
i know these streets and these faces
i held this moon before in all of these places
today i walked through time
to find out how five years can pass so swiftly in the night,
leaving you with yourself and the shadowy moon.

i hope that the flimsiness of 23 wears off,
that the things i carry now are with me five years hence
i wish for my life to remain so blessed through circumstance
and while i wish for some of those memories
to return to life
i hope to be wiser still, and willing to return to say hello for certain
to the person i was and have become
to say goodbye to the ghosts another time
to let the watchful moon see me where i crossed before,
sending thoughts to friends who have moved on.

How'm I doin'?? A Goals Update

I say it's high time for a check in on the goals. Especially since I have been starting new goals, like read this book, and go to an amusement park for my 30th birthday (What? I can plan it this far in advance!?). And since my next birthday (i.e. my original goal deadline) is tra la la about 4 months away. God, I just LOVE birthdays!!! (Can you tell?)

So the list. Let's take a look, shall we?

• Attend retreat. - Well, I've thought about doing this a lot. And really what I need to do is pick one at the local retreat center I like, mail in my deposit, and go. But, haven't done that quite yet.
• Climb a 5.9 - Ok, this is hard because I'm not near being able to do this yet. But, I expect to squeeze in some more climbing in the next few months, and perhaps I can get up to that if I'm consistent. So, doable, if I focus.
• Contribute regularly to 401k. - Rocking out. The amount of money going to my 401k was super painful to watch disappear from the paycheck, but now it's out of sight, out of mind (except for feeling great that it's already doubled what I had when I started contributing this year).
• Do the limbo. - Hilarious. Left over from my wedding. No idea how this will get accomplished (since it's not really a one-person activity). So I need help on this...
• Get better physically. - Slow but sure, working on it every day, with the help of some kickass doctors.
• Go backpacking. - This weekend, baby!!!!! We have no idea if our car (since we no longer have the Subaru) will make it to any decent trails, but we'll be outside, and we'll be together, and that is the only thing I care about. Besides, I love an adventure!
• Kayak to the cedars (near my mom's house). - This is the one most likely not to happen (and incidentally, the one that my mom suggested). I'm just not planning a trip up there right now, so I'm not sure how to make it happen. I'm still up for it, in theory.
• Keep a plant alive for a season. - So, this is always a hard one to define. I mean, I have several philodendrons that are rocking out, but those things don't die. My mom gave us a plant at Christmas that is still alive, although I fear for its long-term sustainability. So, yes, accomplished, sort of.
• Knit hat. - I've knitted two rows since writing this. Unless I break a leg, I can't imagine putting serious time into it. The goal was really to get it done before the winter months, and give it to the homeless, but um, it's March.
• Learn a piano song. - My hubs has. Does that count? Maybe that's what I'll do as a present for when he gets home.
• Print a photo I've taken. - Definitely haven't done, but not for a good reason. Let's say this will be my birthday present to myself.
• Run a 5k. - Crap. I'm further behind on this than I am on the climbing. I could try to run again, but probably not for another week.
• Share poetry. - I've done it, but I could do more.
• Stay on 6 month dentist plan. - Whoops. I'll call before the weekend and make the appointment.
• Volunteer. - Major failure, but I also reevaluated this multiple times and decided our lives were too full. I think I will try to do it once my Friday morning class ends, since I have managed to squeeze something into that time slot, so... why not just switch it over?

Oh man, that felt so good! Looking at my goals is a great way to add some direction and structure to my life, as well as get me excited about following through on the in the next few months. And luckily, I don't feel married to any of them, but they all still seem worth pursuing.

I am also going to add a goal - I read this note, and felt somewhat, um, convicted? I think I scored a 5.5, although NOT entirely because of wedding blog reading. So, in order to move on from the wedding, it's time to get the wedding dress cleaned. HIGH time, in fact. It is still on the back of my closet, just as she says. She's so smart!

Ok, here goes the next four months... I'll keep you posted on my progress!

Poem

From Retreat to Awakening...


The mountains - they do not hide,
the trees throw themselves out for the sun;
the water splashes and falls carelessly.
The bird flies as fast as it can,
rests when she is tired,
and does not whisper,
but calls out loudly until she is satisfied.

As we express the turnings within
through our actions,
our words,
and in responsiveness to one another,
we join the symphony -
the perfect, raucous spiriting
that is always around us.

I rejoice in the trueness of stillness and of anticipation
of love and of concern;
I rejoice in finding my voice
to add to the song.