Uncategorized

Is There a Poem in Me?

September 2, 2023 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

I like to greet my day with coffee.

Water to chase it.

Sometimes I do a little stretching,

reaching from within for the

openness to the day.

Whatever it brings,

it brings.

The aim is to greet it all with the ease of presence.

After the cup of blackness is poured,

I open to the light.

No need for cream.

The lightness comes from within as

Inspiration visits me…

The printed word, cat in my lap, the occasional video

provide the outward nourishment and fuel.

I save the podcasts for the workout which is coming later.

If I am not rushing too much,

I sense a warm energy brewing

within my heart.

Percolating.

Up bubbles the question:

“Is there a poem in me today?”

The question arrives like a lovely perfumed spring breeze.

Usually sensing the invitation means

there is.

I become like a kid who has discovered a secret candy stash.

It is such a sweet discovery,

to be granted the words,

the package of a poem.

When this gift is received, all I can do is

offer myself to the empty page.

I am pulled by the need for expression.

But I don’t write immediately…

I pause and listen first.

A window opens and I feel the blessing of expansion.

The words start dropping onto the page.

As they drop down, I rise up.

In Need of Water

March 30, 2023 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

Two days ago the sun was shining so

I bought myself some sunflowers.

Yesterday it rained

so I allowed the tears to form and flow.

Today I rise in darkness

hoping for the light to show up.

Every day gives me the chance

to use what is given.

When the drain of routine threatens to pull me down,

it helps to look around,

to check the weather of what is actually here.

The sunflowers need water so I help them –

in the helping, I notice am refreshed, too.

Leaning now with the flowers

toward the light,

I understand again the lift of kindness

and the necessity of attention to

the life that is given.

Uncategorized

In The Space of Silence

March 15, 2022March 15, 2022 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

When I remember to take a breath,

to stop,

to get quiet,

it’s as if my eyes automatically open more.

I can see the details…

the robins digging for worms,

the leaves fluttering in the breeze,

the expression lines deepening

on the face of my beloved.

It is the quiet

that wakes me up.

With no noise to distract me,

I can also find the words.

Somehow the container of my heart

has permission to open,

spilling out with the cry of prayer

and the lyrics of grace.

I hear my own speech, and

in that listening,

I realize

I have become quiet enough

to be held by it all.

All this…

in the space of silence –

this place I call

my home.

Uncategorized

Just Me, the Stars, and Hope

October 10, 2021October 10, 2021 becomingandbeholding12 Comments

I like to get up before the sun does.

It is a kind of race

to greet the day first, for

being alone in the stillness of the morning

fuels me.

When I walk in the quiet

of my slumbering neighborhood,

and I can look up at the moon

and the stars,

and feel the crisp morning air

on my sleepy skin,

I am like a wakening flower bud.

I open to the promise

of a new day –

of being in fresh light.

I am a rare creature, I know.

Few would take the covers off so early

to brave the chill.

But me? I just get some coffee in me,

bundle up, and go.

It is the most liberating time of my day –

for yesterday has been filed away…

and it is just me, the stars,

and hope.

So, I lift up my voice

and sing, joining the bird chorus

as the glow begins to dawn.

This is what morning energy does for me.

I move forward through the dark and

rise with the sun.

It is a kind of practice, you see.

If I can dance my way through the dark

feeling safe and happy,

then I have mastered the power

of self-transcendence.

I have learned to let go,

and relax into the flow of life.

It is a kind of cleanse

that reminds me that I am actually

free to be –

and no loss or regret

can keep me under the covers

for very long.

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart, and you will never walk alone.
Gerry and the Pacemakers

Uncategorized

Out of the Weeds

September 18, 2021 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

Photo by **Vitaliy Mitrofanenko** from **Pexels**

You would think

that by the time we reach maturity,

we would know how

to make the way clear

for ourselves…

And yet,

the patterns continue –

the ones that

face-plant us amidst

the tangle around us.

Those frustrating weeds

of all we hang onto

have pinned us down

and left us feeling powerless.

We still have those times when

we forget how to breathe

and Life itself

needs to breathe for us –

teaching the way from

gasps to sighs to

calming deep breaths.

Eventually, with this fortified

and nurturing air,

we become strong enough,

to be receptive to our own truth.

We are ready to

trust our own insights –

and we can stand free

amidst the tangle

before us..

We understand that

Weeds are just flowers

with an angry history –

and compassion finds us.

Only then can we be

safe and whole even

amidst the weeds.

So, when on the ground,

look up –

examine what has been planted..

Drop the fear of harm

and tripping.

Really see the beauty before you.

Each bud and leaf

represents a lesson gained.

Know that the weeds with the thickest stems

and biggest thorns

have been planted by you

and you alone.

Those are the most stubborn

to pull from the ground –

for their roots are hardened

and run deep.

They require more focus

and strength.

Honor them all.

Once truly witnessed,

these trip wires

have fulfilled their purpose

and the way is made clear.

Do you understand?

Love the weeds.

Elevate each one of them,

giving thanks for their wisdom bestowed.

Wake up to the ways

you have cluttered your own path.

Please don’t despair –

for everyone has weeds on their trail.

The way to freedom

is born in taking responsibility…

elevating the pain we have been feeling,

bowing to it,

and setting it free.

You do not need it anymore

for you have arisen from the rubble

healed.

We can clear our own path

if we are brave enough

to nurse the skinned knees and

to cry its tears.

So, pull each weed

and lift it up to the bright blue sky.

You have found your way through.

You can now move forward

and live in joy.

You can be a blessing for the world.

I’m walking uphill, both ways it hurts. I bury my heart here in this dirt. I hope it’s a seed, I hope it works. I need to grow, here I could be. Closer to light, closer to me. Don’t have to do this perfectly. Have I the courage to change?
“Courage” – a song by Pink

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

This Heart

August 2, 2020March 30, 2021 becomingandbeholding3 Comments

This heart is a strong muscle.

It never disappoints.

When put to work,

there is always strength,

there is always strength.

This heart is a deep well.

When the bucket is lowered

and dips into its depths,

there is always refreshment,

there is always refreshment.

This heart is a vista.

When the journey tires,

I can sit and rest.

I see it all.

There is always a vision,

there is always a vision.

This heart is a blanket.

When the chill arrives,

I reach for warmth.

There is always an embrace,

there is always an embrace.

This heart is home.

When the moments

add up to years,

I can look back and within.

There is always love,

there is always love.

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Permission to Grow

May 6, 2020June 6, 2021 becomingandbeholding3 Comments

With an abundance of time,

I can get a bit lost.

I am used to being driven

by duty,

with all its necessary tasks

keeping me busy.

But I am not so needed

right now –

or so it seems.

Reluctantly, I learn to be grateful

for the quiet,

the stillness that is always underneath.

I sit and open to it.

Once rested and

pretty soon,

my eyes begin to catch a vision

while my heart bubbles forth

with an effervescent song.

Its music is an invitation to grow –

to gather all the pieces

and moments

of wisdom, pain, and insight that

have been stacking in the corners –

to sit with them

and to honor their sacredness.

As I look back to review them,

the melody of their song

begins to weave together.

It travels in and through me,

bringing lightness and energy

to my searching heart.

The music floats up into my awareness

and sings to me:

You know how to knit all this together.

Trust what has been given to you.

The words form into a melody

only I can hear.

I can see now that

there is a song to be born, and

I have been invited

to sing it.

My feet become light

as I learn dance

to a new tune.

“To love someone is to learn the song in their heart and to sing it to them when they have forgotten.” – Arne Garbing

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

The Return

April 27, 2020 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

Here we are again.

You are You,

and I am learning to be me.

It’s funny…

this long road I have travelled

with all the detours along the way,

while You simply waited.

I thought I had a long way to go.

But I was wrong.

I just needed to stop

and allow myself

a different view.

Now I am on the vista.

I see your landscape

and my place in it.

It takes my breath away

as all the tension

of trying so hard

floats away.

Uncategorized

No Mud, No Lotus

April 16, 2020 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Home

March 30, 2020June 6, 2021 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

My heart is at a loss as it

searches for a home –

even as I sit here, even as I sit here in

the comfort of this place.

My heart is at a loss as it

reaches for a peace –

a peace that calms my restless soul, a soul

that cannot settle in this mess.

My heart is at a loss as it

feels strangled by new limits,

limits that are new and have descended in a

tidal wave, a wave that overwhelms me.

My heart is at a loss as it dreams of

better days, as it dreams of better days filled with

comfort and touch, the touch that heals and soothes,

and plays with long-lost freedom.

This is the home I am in, a home that

holds the fears and worries, a home

that keeps me safe from harm, still. Though my heart is

a tangle which longs to loosen, it is my home, it

is my home.