It was a ragged week of strife
and undercurrents
and hot weather,
building the studio,
long hours in the sun.
Now, resting beside him
hearing the sputter and breath
of a necessary nap.
I lay still
so he will sleep.
Wearing the blue linen shirt,
I bought and wash two times a week
and those grey shorts tied with rope.
Tan tapered legs, one of his best features
like his feet.
I will resist a clever ending to this poem
I’ll just let it go at that.
One Unto Herself
Heavy with child she lumbers,
this impossible pregnancy.
What was she thinking
when she said yes to God?
Not, carrying the world in her belly
His infinite seeds, fertile mother earth,
the dark and the light,
a snake eating the mouse.
I didn’t think it would be this bad
this full, this heavy.
The great weight of matter.
I will need divine assistance at her birth.
Delivering me from my own duplicity.
What are we midwifing here
Everything?
Sally King, Lady Godiva Day 2020
Photo of Sarah carrying her daughter Rumi
The exertive womb
Pushes
While the nurturing womb is yin,
the pushing womb is yang.
Two aspects of the feminine.
Right Ladies?
The breath always helps in right action,
the essential pause
to find out what is best suited,
in this moment
nurturing or pushing?
By Jay White,
She stood at the helm of the storm
And she was the one who could sail
The little boat of death
toward the far shore without panic.
So much good can happen out there
with the wind tearing things loose.
You can fling tears from your face
without worry.
You can feel your arms and legs
welcome this vigil.
You are the person who knows,
What your boat can do
at such a rare point of weather.
My brother’s poem
in response to an insight shared,
a trust.
What a time we are experiencing,
so much change, so much limitation,
we can’t just do whatever we want, when we want to.
For the first time that I know of,
our “white culture” is experiencing the squeeze
of less freedom and choice.
We can’t get on an airplane and fly to Europe or Canada
or go to restaurants or movies or parties.
And now we are panicking about resources,
our own and our neighbors.
Economic shortfalls are making the society less safe
as it becomes less stable.
We are getting our first taste of how our indigenous
and our people of color live life everyday.
Welcome to Club Humanity.
The upside is that we finally have a level playing field,
a shared experience with our “marginalized others”
Suddenly there is no other
just we.
For Maria
Laurens Van Der Post wrote The Mantis Carol,
a tale of synchronicity, wonder
and the truly joyful nature
of an African Bushman far from home.
And at the end of his life
She( I) went to visit him
and because he asked this of her
she proceeded to dance, his dance
the one she’s seen him do throughout his long life.
The Dance of Great Hunger.
A stomping step with a turn
arms spread reaching the cosmos.
She was totally present,
with her back still turned
she heard a strange sound,
” Like the issue of some gust of great wind
thrown at the door with such force
that it passed thin and elongated through the key -hole into
and out of the room.”
And he was gone.
Sometimes only a dance will do.
After the family left
I needed to dance , staff in hand
to move the stuck energy of deep sorrow
and let sway all the emotive feeling felt too tight,
giving voice to the great hunger
giving voice to the old one who knows of suffering
and still smiles.
For Maria
“We are joyous
We are attuned to peace.
We are attuned to life.
We have a delight for nature
and for all living, growing things.
We foster and nurture potentials.
We are attuned to wholeness
and to connection
from which it springs.” ( Jeremy Berg)
These words are from our fairy folk relatives,
our invisible cousins,
but also from a place we know in ourselves
when we disappear,
even for a moment.
It says on the sign over Jung’s studio door,
Called or Not Called God is Here.
When I was tossed into the cold and wild water
of a rapid in the Grand Canyon,
and to my amazement
I completely let go,
experiencing the delight of no fear.
A kind of grace, like death.
And once in the still of a long night of struggle
I heard the clear voice of Lotte
Call my name.
Prayer will bring in the needed help,
a shift in consciousness
a new view of the same situation.
A kind of grace, so many moments.
When I was 35
I spent three weeks in the Grand Canyon
adding to my thought stream ” I could have peace instead of this”.
Maybe it was the magnificence of the place
of the challenge of the group dynamics
but “peace” stuck,
my mind took over
and choose peace in all instances.
I entered bliss.
This week, 35 years later,
I reopened Teach Only Love,
Jerry Jampolsky’s guide to peace as a preference.
It’s about choosing your power source,
the wily ways of the ego
or trusting in the love and peace option.
Simply beginning to do
what my sense of peace indicates
even though I do not know the outcome.
A loving preference is a more reliable basis for a decision
then guesses about future consequences.
Photo is of our garlic scapes,
harvested today and made into pesto.
Bell
Boy in a boat
Cake
Cat
Center of bliss
Center of desire
Chalice
Cushion
Dark gate
Fiddle
Fig
Flower
Garden
Gate of jewels
Hidden place
Inner heart
Lotus of her wisdom
Moss rose
Mysterious gate
Star
Turtle
Alpha and Omega
If you come upon an accident
And someone is in seriously bad shape
And it’s just you and someone is possibility dying.
Show them your yoni.
You may just save a life.
