Michelle called, asking to speak with Anne’s sister, requesting that I visit her.
She is a wild angel, injured, bad, on a motorcycle, 20 years ago.
She lives in the nursing home
Where my sister lived before she died.
She sits in the dining hall, always in the same seat
And you can ask her where someone is and she will tell you.
She is the gatekeeper of Mesa Vista!
My visits with her are always brief.
She wants to know if I am coming to her birthday party ( it’s in September)
And we talk about the painting I made of her which hangs behind where she sits.
Then she tells me she loves me
And I tell her I love you Michelle.
Music actually happens in the space between the notes.
The way you can go isn’t the real way.
The name you can say isn’t the real name.
Heaven and earth begin in the unnamed:
(name’s the mother of the ten thousand things.)
So the unwanting soul sees what’s hidden,
and the ever-wanting soul sees only what it wants.
Mystery of all mysteries!
The door to the hidden.
There is no “other”
I count the winters like a Lakota,
An annual image of the year 2018
“Lucien sets the star and Jean Pierre hangs by his knees.
While Willow attempts to quiet their glee, “Shhhhhh”
Everything matters and everything is personal.
A Lakota grandmother would of sent us out the door for the day
With this instruction, ” Watch and take note of everything you see,
the animal that crosses your path or a bird,
“What direction did it fly”?
All is a communication to the Self, an inter-face between worlds.
Like that hawk you saw sitting in the tree,
Pay attention, Little Lakota. Messages abound!
The self is a sneak through a narrow gate.
Ignore the skull and cross bones
And enter the place where you’ve got no answers
You have no way to make things better,
You have come to an end.
You see that your mind is insane.
And this is the good news,
For now you might reach out and ask for a miracle
Not one that you make but one you finally know to ask for.
Your first moment of connection to the sustaining love, to faith
That you do not control.
Then the request for the miracle that you do not create
Eyeeeeeee, Ya Ha, look at this being, the BEAR,
kind of wonderful (and terrible)
to see a face that so represents my own inner most vulnerability.
Ultra sound photos of the not yet born
or the bear at night or me,
Freshly hatched back into the world, with not enough layers,
Back from 21 days in the Grand Canyon, bouncing on her river
where the Big Kahuna rules with kindness
I naturally submit to that which is greater
As John says, on bent knee.
There was a glorious pile of fruit filled bear poop
Near our front door this morning
It stirs the imagination, whispering, “Bear”
Now if you will bear with me, while I reach for a metaphor.
My calling card may not always be pretty either,
But the connection between us, as creatures, is surely welcome
Imagine my surprise when I realized that the tune I’ve been singing over and over again
was not for some “other” “out there” but meant for me, like a secret code,
I’ve been singing these phrases, making the best kind of promises.
“I would not leave you in times of trouble
We never could of come this far
I took the good times. I’ll take the bad times
I take you just the way you are”
“I said I love you and that’s forever
And this I promise from the heart
I could not love you any better,
I love you just the way you are!”
Billie Joel’s lyrics and painting of yellow bird, Sarah Kinn