The Opening

September 6, 2017September 6, 2017 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

It is the space between
what I hear
and how I receive it.

It is the time between
what I think
and what I do.

It is the moment of rest
I sometimes allow
before the next thing.

This is the place that needs enlarging.
But I tend to keep it small,
even though it beckons me
with sweet whispers
and gentle nudges.

I hear it in the rhythm of the waves
and the rustle of the dancing leaves.
I see it in the glide of the seagulls
and the ballet of the small shorebirds
as they float across the shoreline.
Be like us,
they seem to say.
Float through your day.
It is easy
if you let go
and feel the flow.

The invitation is always there,
expansive and inviting –
a huge place of calm and beauty
waiting to hold me
with a comforting embrace.
Waiting to lead me
to the unimaginable.

But I am distracted.

I know I am not alone in this.

Thankfully,
Grace is a beautiful and patient teacher.
She has taught me many things.
I finally know that
You are in the space that calls.
You are in each breath –
especially the deep ones.
You are in me.
You are around me.
You work through me.
You need me as much as
I need you.

I have learned that turning away from you
and ignoring your sweet beaconing
is akin to a slow and lonely death.

Opening to You –
and the spaces between,
is like coming home
to who I am.

You See Me

September 6, 2017October 24, 2017 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

Beyond the ways I hide

from myself,

you see me.

Underneath the make up

and beneath the gray roots and wrinkles,

you see me.

Despite my busy ways,

my lists,

my problems with digestion,

my anxieties,

my crafty ways of avoidance

and inattention,

you see me.

You see all of me.

Sometimes when I look in your eyes,

I catch a glimpse

of the me

that you hold in your heart.

It is a beautiful vision.

When I catch its glimmer,

I feel a wholeness,

an unfamiliar peace –

about life,

about Love,

about being me.

So, I am thinking…

this must be what Love is –

to hold onto that larger picture of our beloved –

to cherish it for them

and to protect it from harm

as if it were a world class masterpiece.

A beloved allows for the dropping

of all that does not matter

so that we can hold onto each other

for dear life –

for a life that is dear.

Beloved,

I am yours.

Poem · Poetry · Uncategorized

Breathing Rare Air

September 6, 2017September 6, 2017 becomingandbeholdingLeave a comment

“I don’t think you can see it,”
said my love one day
during one of our connecting moments
when he gently dared
to pull away my self-imposed blinders.
“You are too close to it.”

He may be right.
Maybe I don’t see it,
this reality that few get to be in.

I work in a strange land,
a land of life
and a land of death.
The terrain is sometimes rocky and treacherous,
sometimes peaceful,
always momentous.
Every day I am in the midst
of the end
and the beginning,
all wrapped up in the movement of breath
and the wrenching of hearts.
I get to witness this,
over and over.
And my love does not see
how I can do this.

I breathe rare air.
It is the air of final breaths,
filled with spaces, longing, regrets,
love and letting go.
On a daily basis,
I am next to bodies as they sputter to a stop.
I take in the worn faces and the withered forms
barely taking up space.
I breathe this rare air.
The air of souls bursting to be free.
I hear the sounds
and smell the smells.
I breathe rare air.

You may wonder what this does to me,
this rarified experience.
I wonder, too.
Is this death I witness contagious?
Will my disappearing act be hastened
because I am seemingly comfortable
in this strange land?

I think not.

If anything,
entering this territory on a daily basis
is an invitation.
A chance to truly see.
With eyes wide open to what lies ahead,
there is no pretending.
No glossing over or dodging the truth.
I will end one day,
or, at least my body will.
There is no covering this over
with any effort to avert it,
whether it is in being as healthy as I can be,
or in avoiding what needs attending
before it is too late.

No.

Working with the dying
and breathing this rare air,
has opened me up in ways
beyond my comprehension.
I am being changed.
How could I not be?
All I know now
is that with each inhale of this experience,
my tightly bound heart
unwraps a little more.
I am softening.
And here is the nub of it:
I am getting a head start
on letting go
of all that does not matter.
I am being schooled in death bed academics
and I intend to be a straight A student.
So, maybe working with the dying
and breathing this rare air
IS contagious
because in learning to let go now,
and do the work before me,
my death can be more beautiful
when my time comes,
and my loved ones
more at peace.