Rite of Passage

December 16, 2017 becomingandbeholding2 Comments

It arrives unexpectedly

that moment when deep disappointment hits you –

like a sucker punch to the stomach.

Suddenly, your world

makes no sense to you.

That someone you love

is not who you thought they were…

this hurts the most

when it is your parent –

because you thought your foundation

was there.

Life has begun to rattle you

in every direction.

A sadness starts to settle in –

reminding you of your

loss of innocence

when the truth about Santa Claus

was revealed –

only this time,

when the dream of your life

gets shattered,

it lasts much longer

than the life of the Christmas tree
and it cuts more deeply.

Don’t panic, young one.

Honor this new unsettled pain.

It means you are beginning to burst

through your cocoon.

Your limiting beliefs

no longer serve you.

Life is opening up

and you are being born.

Embrace your brokenness

and the softness and light

it will bring you.

You have entered your true work.

Winter Chill

December 10, 2017 becomingandbeholding2 Comments

As I crunch through

the remnants of the first snow fall,

careful to go slow

and not to slip –

As I feel the cold air

swallow me,

making me miserable inside –

the song of complaint

rises

raw and uncensored:

“I hate winter!”

Every ounce of my being

resists the cold.

Then a chuckle

rises within me

and passes over the

passionate resistance energy

consuming me.

I smile at my hubris

thinking I can resist weather

of all things.

And then I realize –

It is ALL weather.

Poem · Poetry

The Body Knows

December 10, 2017December 10, 2017 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

Oh, the tattletale that lives within

that whispers all my secrets!

I wear my thoughts and habits

visibly

and in the sea of tension

that seems at constant

high tide

filling up all my spaces

and flexing my muscles

long after their work is done.

Reversing this tide

and harnessing my inner moon

is a daily task

that calls –

like music calls to my heart,

or insight calls to my pen.

I have to ask myself:

What is this inner grip, this tension

really all about?

I have a magic tool

which will help me to know.

I stop. I breathe. I listen.

The body knows.

With amazing patience,

it waits for me.

Poem · Poetry

Grateful Heart

November 18, 2017March 10, 2018 becomingandbeholding7 Comments

There is a lifting above

and a grounding below,

a warming at the center –

when I remember.

It is like the unexpected gift

presented with love

and perfect timing.

Or the lightness of being

that comes

with surrender

and trust –

even in the midst of

struggle or pain.

I hold onto it

even as I let go,

allowing the divine

to move through,

heal me with its dawning.

“I was born with a grateful heart,”

says the patient

on her dying bed.

I marvel at the gift she has

and how it fills her up at the end,

easing the way.

And then I remember,

so was I.

Poem · Poetry

Interdisciplinary

October 18, 2017October 18, 2017 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

It takes all of us
to bring you home;
to follow your lead
while you demonstrate what you need –
how we can help.
Sometimes you don’t know.
After all,
this is a first for you.
We understand.
So we show you the way.

At first,
it is all about the pain
in all its potential forms
and impact.
Then it is
all about the Love –
given and received
over a lifetime
and in this moment.
We help unwrap
how Love endures
through it all.

We have travelled this road
with so many.
But no one is
exactly like you.

We are here.
Right next to you.
Each of us tasked
with a different
aspect of you –
the whole picture of you
and the life you were given.

As witnesses to your
soul’s journey,
we catch merely a glimpse
of the mystery
ahead
that calls to us all.
Thank you for that.
The comfort flows both ways.

We will never forget you.

Poem · Poetry

Blessed Assurance

September 27, 2017September 27, 2017 becomingandbeholding2 Comments

No more a need

to solve, cling, or do.

I am done with all that.

Breathe.

Just be.

I turn my attention outward

trusting that inwardly,

I am whole.

This is an important shift

and not one that is

familiar –

a down shift,

into trust –

rather than constant acceleration.

True freedom comes in

letting go of the wheel,

not needing to see the road ahead.

Gradually, I am learning to be

more of a passenger.

It is strange how unfamiliar it feels.

I have learned so deeply

to be on my own,

driving solo.

But I repeatedly follow the wrong directions

being the simple human

I have learned to be,

confused by which GPS to heed.

Now I call upon my divine nature.

It has taken decades to

own it.

Such a beautiful feeling…

to know it is not all

up to me –

that no map is needed.

A look back

in the rear view mirror

confirms.

All is well –

and has been all along the way.

Blessed be.

Poem · Poetry

She Kept to Her Schedule

September 24, 2017September 24, 2017 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

I remember a time
when time was not just another consumable,
and moments were embraced
instead of thrown away by distraction
and the addiction to over-doing.
A time when moments were moments
and clocks were wall decorations,
their faces barely noticed.
There was no inward push
or unrelenting need to get from here to there,
to check off this list or that.
I remember a time
when moments unfolded
with youthful joy and presence.
That was eons ago.

When did keeping time morph into losing it?
We schedule, we plan, we run around getting things done
and in a flash, another day is done.
Do the morning routine,
get the workout in,
clean up and put on the public face and accessories,
suffer the commute,
work long hours,
scrape together some nutrition,
eat fast and mindlessly,
catch up with social media,
the news,
go to bed.
Then try to sleep with a restless mind in full gear,
still ticking through your list.
Get up.
Do it all over again.
Time is spent.

But not wisely.

Life is short.
We all say it,
but few of us get it
until we get to be fifty something
and our friends start getting sick and dying.
Life is really short!

What if we get to the end of our life,
and this is what our tombstone says:
“Loving mother and wife. She kept to her schedule.”

Ouch.

We must learn the art of The Stop.
Stop the inner push that moves us forward
into the next thing
when we have not even experienced
what is before us
right now.

How many times have I been so busy planning
that I forget to notice
what is in my current vision?
How many times have I missed the colors, the beauty, the scents
the loved one next to me
because I am in my head
instead of my moment?

How many times have I pretended to listen
while I get something else accomplished simultaneously?
How often did I forget to look into your eyes
to see the longing
or the love there?

We are taught to do
instead of to be.
We are deceived into believing
that filling up our days with busyness
means we are doing well in life.
It is not true.

We must stop.
Push the pause button as often as possible.
Notice. Relish. Honor. Appreciate.
Embrace fully
as if our life depended on it,
because it does.

Otherwise, we spend our life
like we are on a credit card binge
which leaves us empty and bankrupt
in the end.

Life is short.

Poem · Poetry

Structure

September 24, 2017September 24, 2017 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

Limping again

with another broken bone.

A repeat injury

only this time

on the other side

as if it had to happen

for a symmetry in the lesson.

I am feeling a little picked on.

Feet are important

for grounding and balance.

Standing is now clumsy and awkward

with one foot in a walking cast.

Walking is even worse.

I am forced to slow down.

Is God toying with me?

Forcing me to look at what I am made of

and what kind of condition I am in?

Now there is talk of potential disease

a thinning of my bones,

a weakness that clearly has been hidden
until this year.

All this makes me feel old

and envious of all those effortless walkers

out there.

I have heard that healing

can make us stronger in our weak spots.

I hope this is true.

And now that I have run out of feet,

perhaps I can get grounded again.

Poem · Poetry

Inspiration

September 24, 2017September 24, 2017 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

Trying to coax you

feels dishonest – and yet,

I do not know how to proceed

without you with me.

I love our usual rhythm

when you bubble up like a fountain

or surprise me with a flash.

The light you bring leads the way.

It is as if, like an eager child,

you grab me by the wrist,

pulling me with all your might,

to see what your wide eyes see,

to open to what is being born right before me.

This is our ritual,

our occasional awkward dance.

I long to know you better,

to deepen the intimacy between us

with more regular meetings.

I get jazzed when we can be together –

You, the lightening bug-

Me, the catcher.

But you are an unpredictable one,

mysterious in your ways

and sneaky.

I never know when you will appear.

You are always in the driver’s seat

while I ride shotgun,

trying to trust in the route you put me on.

You show up,

and I am knocked out of my usual rhythm,

suddenly consumed by your presence.

I love those moments.

They are like electricity lighting me up

on all circuits.

It is as if

you give birth to me all over again,

but in little flashes of light

to direct my unfolding.

I dare not ignore your brilliance.

Poem · Poetry

Noticing

September 10, 2017 becomingandbeholding1 Comment

The way it feels

when I dare to step away from patterns

long held onto

with a tight knuckle grip

as a way to hold me up,

glue me together.

The look in your eyes

when I am really paying attention,

allowing my heart to open to you.

The soaring freedom that sends me

to new depths and heights

all at the same time

when I get out of my own way.

How pain disappears

when my attention turns in a divine direction

instead of towards my navel,

so clogged with repetitive angst.

How a long walk by the sea washes me

of all the garbage

I have allowed to enter my soul –

a baptism of surf and sound,

wind and grace.

The thunder of the surf rocking me,

holding me with an eternal embrace.

Oh, how healing that is!

How the voice of a great singer

sends my spirit soaring

and beckons me to use my voice

with full expression and power,

freeing it

and healing me from the multitude of ways

I have held it back.

How Love is present,

when I am present

whether with the dying,

my love,

or my cat.

Turning away from the moment

robs me,

robs us –

of God’s company.

Waking up is a beautiful thing –

a peeling of the layers –

that so strangle and constrict.

We think these layers are important

but they are all false construction.

I love the release as they fall away

allowing a deeper joy

to be found.

I am noticing

two openings:

my eyes with inspired vision,

my heart with a tender softening.

Both are wrapped up in deep peace.