Category: poetry

By the river, stories of being

/ Lanae / Leave a comment Featured

Earlier in August, I took myself to a delightful place in the woods by a river, for a retreat time of rest and writing, wondering and wandering, reflecting and receiving. Something about the woods and water does so much to return me home to my soul, to the wild wonders both within and without.

I wrote so much and took so many photos of everything that struck my eyes and spirit as magical and mystical. As always, the hardest part for me is curating and distilling all that I want to share into one offering, a mindful morsel, accessible and absorbable! So – here is what chose itself, at least for this offering!

Note: for reading reference, the bolded words represent the start of a new stanza. Due to the quirks of my editor programs and the vast amount of tedious work needed to manipulate the formatting and spacing of poetry, I chose to keep it simpler and less stressful by choosing that option especially since the desired shape of each poem was preserved!

By the river, stories of being (a poem series)

By the river, a story of being

Right here, right now

no stories about me exist

I am

         my own story

We named water, water

We named river, river

We made stories about water

                                  about river

Yet the water, the river

what name does it have for itself

or – are they content to be

         to be in their existence

do they need to name themselves

                                                                    to be

Or perhaps, mayhap most likely

water just is

river just is

and its/their Is-ness

                           is enough

For me, could it be?

or do I need names

               my many names

      to convey my existence

           expressions of my existence

                  my manner of being

                  in this body, this world

     to send messages of all my ‘Who-ness’

     to not allow my ‘Who-ness’ to be

                  defined by others

     to say, I and only I

                  name my ‘Who-ness’

Yet – my Who-ness  is not the sum

                  of my Is-ness

                       my being-ness

                  my Is-ness is greater yet

                        beyond Name

I am

         my own story

The water is its own story

The river is their own story

And our existence, our Life, our Being

         our Is-ness, is

                enough

Our Who-ness matters

         yet greater be

         our Is-ness

*********************************

The water, the river is real

being named doesn’t make it/them

             more or less real

                         or true

              their Truth is beyond

                         their naming

My realness, my Trueness

       is beyond name, beyond

                   all Names

I am

*****************************

Naming matters

         names matter

         because they express elements

         of our Who-ness real and true to us

         because they express meaning

         highlight nuances, carry

         messages, and craft stories

         because they are mirrors

         because they are a matrix

                a latticework

               of shared, shareable

               meaning, Truth, Life

*********************************

Spirit of River

       my teacher be

       teach me to flow

                 and sing freely

                 as do you

Spirit of River

         my teacher be

         teach me your fluidity

         for I would be free

River Rocks

The rocks by the river

                     are just rocks

They are as they are –

                     truth in themselves

                              real

Yet

       just for this time

               they represented

                stories I told myself

                stories that I am surrendering

                                letting the river

                                                                take

They represented

           attitudes, beliefs, choices

           dead things

           that serve, have served, me not well

A choice already made

            to let dead things go

            to let dead things be dead

            yet sealed symbolically

            in giving them to the river

The rocks remain real, they remain

            true in themselves

            untainted, unmarked

            only for a moment

            did they carry representation

                                             of death

They were clean, remain clean

           it is only I

           who need(ed) cleansing

They were never dead

            it is only I

            who need(ed) resurrection

River and rock cannot give

            resurrection

            yet they can represent

            the gift I give for myself

A clean, real life

             flowing free

             actions, attitudes

             beliefs, behaviors

             calm, clear choices

             deep Love

             ever True

resolved:

/ Lanae / Leave a comment Featured

I feel moved to share here a poem that poured itself out of deep aspirations and intentions that have impressed themselves on me during recent weeks. Sometimes I find that a very good way for me to help myself remember my aspirations and intentions is to write them down, allow them to assemble themselves into poem form. Perhaps it is also good to allow aspirations and intentions to be witnessed, to deepen their truth and help them (help the one who holds them!) to come into full bloom, or even to allow them to become light and warmth, bread and breath for some who witness them!

resolved:

I am resolved:
	to honor my belovedness and that of others
	to delight in others’ joy as if it were mine because it is indeed
part of mine
	to remember the light 
	to envision clearly the life I aspire to be in 
	to live with the mindful, peaceful energy
I wish to invite, whether it manifests in others or the world around me or not. If conditions in them, in the world, are such for it to manifest, then it will, and if they are not such for it to manifest, then it will not. And it is nothing I have done or is in my ability to control, no matter my desire or hope. But I can inhabit the energy of peace myself and it is a protection.

I am further resolved:
	to keep my spirit unfettered and unbittered
	to awaken
	to arise
	to emerge, from my fabulous fractal being
	to act, boldly, in conscientious confidence
	to water wholesome seeds and with great intention
and loving discipline return unwholesome seeds to the deep storehouse of consciousness
	to let patterns of thought and belief that serve only ill to go
	to release hindrances of spirit
	to hold lightly and lovingly to anticipation
	to see the flame of possibilities in ashes

I am yet further resolved:
	to believe in my kids’ wholeness and encourage their wellness, wisely
	to believe in my friends’ care for me, that they consider me
beloved, and that I am a good friend in my autistically authentic way
	to let go of friendships and connections not meant for me
	to understand that many will not/do not understand me, and that is
okay; they don’t have to. There is no universe-ordained contractual obligation that says they, or anyone, must, especially in order for me to be content or at peace. I release my bondage to any such expectation.
	to expect, however, to have my personhood respected and for people to understand that they don’t have to understand me in order to respect my personhood, my humanity, my dignity, to afford me the liberty to live in the peace in which they also wish to live, or to respect the potential of goodness in my character.
         to believe in the goodness of my character and to give it space and grace to bloom bountifully
         to be forgiving, for the health of my spirit; forgiving of pain I’ve caused myself, mistakes I’ve made; forgiving myself from carrying any burdens that anyone has attempted to place upon me.
        to remember defiance in the service of justice is not only okay, but blessed; may my defiance be mindful, fierce, and joyful
	to be repentant, to turn, return, retune to the harmony of the Earth
	to show kindness and shine kindness forth
	to live with intention and integrity
	to manifest abundance, for all, in all
	to live in the courage of my goodness
		     the goodness of my courage
		     the wholeness of my goodness and of my courage
		     the wholeness of truth and the truth of my wholeness
	to live in the holy truth of Wholeness,  in a whole Belovedness

We Continue

/ Lanae / Leave a comment Featured

This year, with the passing of both my parents (Mom March 20 and Dad July 10), has brought me into an even profounder intimacy with mortality, impermanence, remembrance, and grief journeying with all the questions and textures those contain. Following their departures from this life, I feel too a fresh and fuller sense of ancestral responsibility – like a torch has been passed, and yet far more than that. In learning to travel through this new (and yet also ancient and shared) territory, I sometimes feel I’m stumbling, finding and learning the path as I go. As I seek to process, navigate, interpret, and integrate these ineffable experiences, thoughts, and feelings, I’ve turned to an old faithful friend – poetry (or, my old friend came to me to light my way).

There’s a story, an experience, from which the poem I share here emerged. During the week before my Dad’s funeral I felt a deep urge to drive up to Crawford where Mom’s parents lived and are buried, just to revisit some childhood places and go see their graves. While at the cemetery I wished I had something to lay on the grave but that time I had nothing. So, I spoke with the delightful florist (Bluebird Flowers & Gifts in Alliance) who made lovely creations for both my parents’ funerals and for Mom’s grave, and requested her to make an arrangement for my grandparents’ grave. The next time I was out to Alliance I journeyed back up to Crawford and placed the arrangement at their headstone.

So many graves that seem so lonely and unremembered, seems a strange poignance in that … and my heart is more tender to that these days.
I have vowed that while I live, every grave of my ancestors is going to be honored and not look lonely but loved and remembered. For me, it’s one small but deep part of both being a good descendant and becoming a good ancestor, carrying forth with respect and gratitude all the good in my ancestors, inviting healing where it is needed, and continuing belovedness.

 

We Continue

Someday
we will be
remembered
only by Earth and Sky
and Spirit Creator
but enough that is
and perhaps the truest
remembering
as it emerges from the truest
knowing
of who we are
and of what we are made –
the stardust and energy
and all atoms
that formed our bones and our flesh
and the spirit
that filled and enlivened us
When our breath is no
more
Breath, Holy Breath, remains –
a spacious wind through Sky skimming over
Earth – all is
known, held, remains remembered

These words arrived Home
to me, while standing in the searing summer
sun of Nebraska’s high plains
at the grave of my grandparents, who
gave life to my mother, whose body of earth
also rests now beneath the earth
I stood remembering, flowers of silk
brought to lay before the stone to show –
those who rest here are still remembered
As I remained remembering, my heart
wondering, how many living ones know
or remember my grandparents
Mildred and Mervil Reece
(parents of LaDonna (born still), Leila, and Dwain)
who remains who might yet pass by this stone
with memory of these names and perhaps their bearers?
My own memories move now in
misted time, incomplete images
some vivid, some fading to ephemeral watercolor
senses of their essence –
did I know them?
Grampa gone when I was four,
Gramma’s mind stolen away by Alzheimer’s long before
her body surrendered the summer I was twenty
her will ever fierce (here, a clear felt memory sense, threaded
in my spirit, this I know)
How well did (do) I know them, my ancestors?

Not like Spirit
not like Earth and Sky
know them – now
but I remember them living
and rings in me the bell of truth
that a time comes when I
no more in this form here will be
to carry memory of my ancestors
my grandparents, my parents,
a time comes when
no one remains to remember me
and when the time comes
no one remains to remember me
or those whom I remembered
Earth, Sky, and wind will
remember
Spirit Creator will
remember
and beyond remember,
remain knowing

We continue
in the Earth and Sky
in wild wind and stillness
in trees and rivers
in dew and clouds
in sun and storm
We continue in the breath of every living one
and in the breath and body of the Earth
We continue
and so we remain
and in remaining are remembered
by Earth and Eternity
even when human mind and history
have forgotten or knew not
We continue

exploring Embodiment and Justice: poems

/ Lanae / Leave a comment Featured

It’s been a long quiet in this space, and it’s been a long year of seeking creative magic in whatever moment it might be waiting – a long year of feeling that in many ways, I was either too busy or too weary to be caught by the magic current. On one hand, I let go – or be – what I didn’t seem to have the energy for and made peace with what this season of life asked and allowed. But on the other, where writing was concerned – and particularly poetry – a seed of longing languished, like an ember who kept their light, for a space of time where no other call on my attention existed except creation. Unrushed, unweighted space to rest and play and be and see wonder deeply … and for wonder to flow freely through me in word form.

And I made space for just this a couple of weeks ago, when I went on a retreat to a tiny cabin in the woods by the Platte River. My hope there was to be able to focus deeply on a poem project I wanted to do to complete an Embodied Social Justice certificate program I engaged in, and rest from everything else. I had little idea before arriving of what these poems would look like, but trusted they would come to me – and come, they did, bless the muse and tree spirits!

I’ve decided to share them here, as in so many ways, they capture the essence of my journey and my inner/outer work over the last year so much better than I could express by any other means. But beyond that, these poems are also crafted to be like vessels for any reader to step into from where/who they are and feel themselves there, feel into themselves for the meaning present for them and their journeys. Read, enjoy, share anything that came up for you, if you wish!

 


Poetic Justice: An Exploration of Embodying Sexuality, Spirituality, and Environmental Justice

Beginning with Justice in my Body

I have stepped down  –
I must continue stepping down – from the throne
from the lofty place
where my self I ensconced, separate
thinking I dwelt in palaces
of spirit, Spirit essence
claiming
by self and flesh denying
Yet I dwelt disembodied
having abdicated my body
as my child self was taught was the holy thing
to do, as flesh and body, loving flesh and body,
they said earnestly,
kept human souls from knowing Truth
But this was a misunderstanding of a truth,
an unholy thing
for in so doing
I parted Soul from Body
and how could Spirit I know
in such a state –
with Creation how could I
commune? A soul denying
embodiment
or the pleasures of embodiment
is a soul out of harmony
with Creation
And where is the holiness of justice
for Body or Soul
without the soul being enfleshed
and the flesh being ensouled
And how can justice be poured out
in the world, except through Bodies
who are ensouled
and Souls who are embodied
How can justice be poured out
in the world, except through
Bodies that begin with justice
toward their own Bodies
in being present with all that is present
lived, experienced, sensed, felt, known
in the Body
these justiced Bodies move toward being
present with all that is
lived, experienced, sensed, felt, known
in the Bodies of all peoples
in the Body of Creation
in the sacredness of all Bodies,
the whole Body of Creation

*********************

Embodiment – as taught by the Feather

I saw the Feather and the Feather
saw me, I know it did
because I heard it speak
without words
that it knew me –
a voice silent but a voice
clear, said to me – not that it,
this Feather, was mine
but that it was a sign
a gift from Earth to me –
Her Beloved –
I knew without thought telling me
accepting this gift was accepting
connection
beyond connection –
wild wordless wholeness –
Communion
into a Sacred Body

******************

Embodiment – as taught by the Snail shell

In the hot white sand by the
River, a Snail shell called
to me by my true name
/Spirit of the linden/
in a voice that spoke in spirals
silent, whirled into a shell house
The Snail, absent –
sand in their stead
where is the body; where is Snail’s
body; where is Snail’s spirit?
Oh, here it is, in the whisper
of spirals, in the sand hot,
in the sunlight glittering on Water
as it ribbons by sandbars
dappled with Water’s ripple-prints
Here – Snail’s body is here
engraved in Earth, in sand and shell
embodied in Water
enspirited in Air
remembered by the Trees
Ah, Snail is here –
Snail never departed
even though their flesh
is not in this house
of shell and sand
They are home – embodied
everywhere

*******************

Embodiment – as taught by the Trees

I am home here –
the Trees know me
When I say I am
Home
I mean, Home in my Body
this soft-shell house of stardust
spirit-ashes and water
that has become bone and blood
muscle and mind
moving as one
Tree bodies rise from stardust
too – rooted in Earth and Water
with sap-blood flowing in their veins
Emanating sinuous waves of bioelectric energy
they are stillness in motion
movement embodied in stillness
Trees – birthed in the forest by the forest
know themselves; they are
Home in themselves
They know Earth, they know Air
they know Water, they know Fire
they know humans and they know me
They know their stardust
and this I know – though I could not
justify my knowing by any logic
of knowing other than Knowing
itself – the Trees here know
my stardust
And they tell me – in voices like shimmers,
shirring leaf-sighs
one Soul to another Soul
to be only who I am –
because as a Linden tree has only the blueprint
of a Linden tree imprinted
in its Soul, and not an Oak –
though noble be the Oak –
so imprinted in me is a living blueprint
(responsive, adaptive
to the touch of nature
and nurture)
that my Soul longs to express
through embodied experience
because my Body and Soul desire
and deserve such justice
Trees know – because they stand long
see far
that justice which moves
through and from the root
of the Soul of one
is an emergent, exigent justice
As Trees connect and share through their roots
to counsel, sustain, heal, and nourish one another
so is the justice that moves through
and from any one human Body
who is Home
in themselves and in Creation
to all Bodies
sustaining and nourishing
one another’s joy
carrying Healing to
the wounded Bodies and Souls
drawing all Home together
A justice rooted in joy
with liberation and Healing for everyOne
all Bodies, the whole Earth Body
is a sacred justice, is
Home, Beloved Home

**********************

 

Embodied sexuality, enfleshed spirituality

In the Forest –
I dance with the Trees
swaying sinuously (I feel it
whether it would seem such
to any observer) with the Wind
as they sway with the Wind
in the bark-skin
or smooth weathered wood-skin
they are in
Spirit in skin
skin meeting Air
Air knowing skin
skin clothed in sunlight
I dance
my Body light (Light)
Spirit-infused
I dance
because I am Home
This is my Yes
to my Body
to the present moment
to the movement as it arises
from muscle and mind and more
This is my Yes
to my Body
to my Joy in my Body
my Yes here
gives birth to my Yes
to the Sacredness of Life
everywhere, everywhen
everyOne
My Yes here –
to embodied Joy
to enfleshing Joy
brings my Soul
Home

my Yes here
is my Yes to walking
in the world
with my Soul in my Body
as Beloved
and all Creation as
Beloved
which opens the space
unfolds the Path of Heart
to living toward all
as sacred
inviting a whole justice

my Yes to my Body
becomes a Yes to justice
toward Earth and all Her children

*********************

Yes to Pleasure

Yes to my Body –
appreciating the wonders of my Body
all of it is wonder
wondrous
marvelously created and recreated every moment
wondrous
simply to take joy in the Air
as it slides smoothly, silkily
worshipping my skin
nothing between me and the Wind and the Light
but an unashamed knowing
I am Home, delightedly Home

*******************

The Sensuality of All Things

I am overcome with the sensuality
of all things
the naked splendor of Creation
look – how artfully Earth has clothed
Herself, in frothy fronds of vegetations
how the Trees have adorned themselves
with leaves or needles of all shapes and patterns
in lushly infinite shimmering shades of greens
blossoms, sweetly, seductively scented
Ah, River, swathed in layers of ribbons and ripples
bright bubbly buoyant currents
caressing sandbars and driftwood
/Tree fallen to River’s charms – sun-bleached
her long Body arching above the eddies
foamy lace skirts gathering along
her length, River draping herself over her lover’s bosom
and Tree’s hand outstretched, bearing a garland
– and a cross – sacrament, or
sacrifice, are you, my time-toppled queen –
Perhaps you are both –
you are yet living, nurturing life
in your belly turned toward the Sun
green growing there and at your feet/

I am overcome by the sensuality of the River,
the Tree embracing as she would any island
in her Body
I am overcome by the sensuality of the Tree
her wide weathered girth
warm between my legs
(for you see, of course I waded out to know her)
as I sit astraddle her middle
my palms on the wind-smoothed sun-whitened wood
– hmm, is this a faint pulse, a hum,
an Om,
I feel? The Tree still singing –
an ancient enduring rhythm
Or – is it only my wishful Heart
feeling the rhythm (its own rhythm?)
Or – is it River’s rhyme and rhythm thrumming through
into me, my blood and spirit responding
with its own Song
Whatever truth may be here
this truth seems alove –
this Tree still knows Creation
Creation still knows her –
still sings to her –
Om – you are, you are –
And so I rest here, intimately blessed
while River teases and tickles my toes
with bubbling, crooning current
And I –
overcome with the sensuality of all things
the boldly bespoken sensuality
in-dwelling in all Creation –
I am brought into communion
with this sacred sensuality
and into a knowing
that it burgeons ripely in my own soul
brimming over –
My Soul insisting on experiencing itself
an unbearable wholeness of Being
Body and Soul and Creation,
One

**************************

Abolish Industrialized Egocentrism: Return to Reverencing the Validity and Sacredness of all Creation
or
A NonSaviorist Healing Collaboration with Earth and Creation

(Adapted from a rough draft journal entry essay, and perhaps best refined in that form to hold more space for the personal story context of these reflections.)

“We save what we love; we cannot save what we do not love”
How can we ‘save the Earth’
without loving and caring for even the smallest of living creatures
caring deeply about the effect of our way of living on them
caring about the violence done in supposed ‘innocence’ and ignorance,
without seeing even the lives of ants, beetles, centipedes, spiders
and other tiny creeping and crawling and flying forms of life
as valid and sacred, as much or more than our bipedal beings
Is that not where it starts – the greening of our souls
the greening of Creation justice in our souls
begins by seeing and believing, beloving, as valid and sacred –
minute but not a mite minor –
the lives of all organisms, no matter how small, visible or not to the eyes
(but becoming visible to the eyes of the heart)
by knowing their lives, their existence, their ecosystems are connected
to us and our ways of living that do violence to them, do violence to us

In the notion that we can ‘save the Earth’
by our intentions or actions, in our will or strength
the ears of my heart have begun to hear
echoes of a saviorist, human-centered tone
And as I ponder these notions of saving – of being a savior
resemblance rises to notions of possessor, conqueror, ruler
Even with best intentions of doing good
it seems we humans so often still
(desire to)
put ourselves on the throne
of nature (Creation)

But what is most needful, what will save us, what will save Earth,
is to step down from the throne
to learn a reverent stewardship –
to re-learn this from the wise ones who have never forgotten
who have stayed close to the Earth and know Creation ways well
to repent and re-learn and return to our original closeness
the knowing and abundance abandoned in a rush to rule
rather than be in relationship with Earth and Creation
What is needful, what will save us, what will save Earth,
is stepping down from the throne
to take in and live a mindful humility
confronting humanity’s creation of an industrialized egocentrism
and examining our participation in it
and how a materialist, mechanized way of living
disturbs the peace of many living parts of Creation
doing violence and dealing death
while going about our everyday lives –
perhaps simply seeking to survive in an inequitable society
perhaps following social conditioning, attempting to fit in
or operate in the structures ordained and established
or maintain a home or make a living
to feed a family –
our participation in this paradigm perpetuates it
and perpetrates it on others
disturbing our own peace, griming our own souls

Stepping down from the throne
to touch the Earth again
opens the path forward
to walk with softer feet and humbler mind
heart and hands wiser in action
Learning how to mourn the violences done and how to repent
participating in, feeling, and beloving the sacredness of all living parts of Creation –
beloving ourselves and all peoples as sacred Creation –
knowing all Creation as living –
experiencing a heart-shift into the ‘greening of our self/our soul’ –
all needful to understand what it would mean to be in
harmonizing collaboration with Creation instead of discordant domination
We can learn, re-learn, to trust that when we do this,
when we step down from the throne we usurped
we are saving the Earth by trusting her to heal and save herself
We cannot be saviors of Creation; we can but become collaborators with Creation
with Earth, in the Healing
of our shared wounds
of our shared Web of life

May we awaken to this great Healing
May we embody it

Easter Hope Rising

/ Lanae / Leave a comment Featured

The stories of Holy Week and Easter season carry such rich imagery and always seem to lend themselves to deep metaphorical reflection and visioning, for me. One doesn’t have to name oneself as Christian to draw from this deep well of living metaphor, or to see how it uncannily, without fail, reflects the troubled, complex, both/and state of (my) humanity and the world in these quarantine days – darkness and light, grief and grace, loss and abundance, co-existing all together, backlit by hope rising.

Something in me continues to love keeping the Easter vigil, especially in those deep wild still hours of the night, and even though we couldn’t keep the Easter vigil at our church this year, we had the invitation to keep vigil at home. And so I purposed to keep vigil through the night til the morning, through those deep wild still hours … Prepared candles and incense and a place to sit in silence and a place to write as the Spirit so moved.

And the Spirit so moved, in this way! This is a wrenching, raw cry from the deepest places of my heart and soul, bowed in grief, lifted in grace – for me and for the world, hope for me and you and the world.I hadn’t necessarily intended to share this poem publicly, because it’s so nakedly personal – these are some of my deepest aches, vanities, and longings, core wounds and spiritual struggles. The old patterns, old pains, that keep rising up as I keep peeling layers upon layers, seeking deeper healing, truer, freer living … this quarantine Easter season has brought so much to the surface, for me, for us all, for our world …
Yet it seems right to be open, if there is anything that may speak to other hearts, too.

With much love and hope, I bow and share this from the Spirit with you, beloved ones!

Rise, Leave the Graveclothes

It is time to leave the tomb
I have been there a while
Not alive but dead to life deepened
                        dead not alive
                        not alive, not risen
                        not living nor rising
In a tomb
                   I have been
It is time to arise
                   leave this tomb
                   return no more
                   to this place
Rise, leave the graveclothes behind
                   seal the tomb
                   return no more
                   to this death
 
Resentment, toxic envy
                  bitterness of seeing others
                  richly clothed in honor and influence
                  you have sought
                  but feel nakedly unknown
               Graveclothes
                                        nothing but graveclothes
               Rise, leave the graveclothes
                                        Seal this tomb
                                        free, walk in light
                                                  clothed new
 
Praise and honor craved
                    from some, stories
                    and needs carried
                    unmet, not to be met
                   still worn, worn to tatters
               Graveclothes
                                        nothing but graveclothes
               Rise, leave the graveclothes
                                         Seal this tomb
                                         free, walk in light
                                                    clothed new
 
Desires to have your words
                    known, esteemed, quoted
                    to carry weight in the world
                    and ring wild into the Night
               This want to be a thought leader
                              a spirit leader
                              a standard bearer of belovedness
              Graveclothes
                                     nothing but graveclothes
              Rise, leave the graveclothes
                                         Seal this tomb
                                         free, walk in light
                                                    clothed new
              Understanding, a mirror held to you
                                  you may fancy yourself
                                  prophet or poet
                                  mystic or mother to the world
                                  and wish this seen
                                  but these, small ego longings
                                  they are
              Graveclothes
                                        nothing but graveclothes
              Rise, leave the graveclothes
                                         Seal this tomb
                                         free, walk in light
                                                    clothed new
 
The trappings of ego, social norms
                   the pressure to be doing
                   creating, producing
                   squeezed by deadening belief
                   you are only relevant
                   in doing and known to be
                                                                      doing
                                                done, I am
               Graveclothes
                                        nothing but graveclothes
               Rise, leave ego’s graveclothes
                                             seal its tomb
                                             Free, walk in light
                                                        clothed new
                                                  Enfleshed grace –
                              Don’t you yet know –
                                         you are Relevant
                                         by being Risen
                                         awake, alive
                                         enlivened, enfleshed
                                                     Grace
 
Comparisons – of your children
                    to the shiny-ness of others’
                    children, achievers, actively known
                              much praised
                    names held in golden esteem
               Graveclothes
                                        nothing but graveclothes
               (and these – graveclothes
                         your children themselves
                         are not wearing
                         because you have well taught
                         them not to put them on
                                             so why must you!)
               Graveclothes
                                       nothing but graveclothes
               Rise, leave these graveclothes
                                         seal the tomb
                                         free, walk in light clothed
                                             Awake, alive, eyes clear
                              to see light embodied in your children
                                                  as they are
                                 love them into their authentic
                                                  best selves
                              and do not offer them graveclothes, of any sort
                                                     to wear
                                  or model for them graveclothes
                          Model for them the rising
                                             and the leaving
                                             of the graveclothes
                                             the sealing of the tomb
                                             the walking free, in light
 
Comparisons, self-condemnations
                     spirit-quenching judgments
                     robbing joy and justice
                     In blindness, holding onto
                                             unlit candles
                                light of others unseen, unhonored
                                your own light unlit
                                             un-risen, un-enfleshed
               Graveclothes
                                        nothing but graveclothes
 
Rise! Leave the graveclothes
               all graveclothes
               seal the tomb
Free! Walk in light, clothed
      awake and alive
                 Risen
 
Risen, enfleshed Grace
            dry bones enlivened
                  clothed in
                        Light
 
Rise!
          Leave the graveclothes
               of this past life
                                             (death)
               of what was thought normal
                              but was
                                             death
          These graveclothes, they are
                              but tatters and they stink
                              Shake them free
                              dust, they disintegrate
                              shake the dust free
                              rise and walk
                              Return no more
                              to this death
                              Risen, return to life
 
Things that have been thought normal in this world
                       scarcity, lack, greed
                       busyness and exhaustion
                       body and soul and earth depletion
                       unkindness and heart blindness
                       violence and war
                       inequity and injustice
               Graveclothes
                                       nothing but graveclothes
                       that are and belong
                                                               to death
               Let us all rise, leave these graveclothes
                              Seal the tombs we have made
                             for one another,
                              seal them
                              return to them no more
               Free, let us walk in light clothed
                              together Risen
              

Turn the stones to peace

/ Lanae / Leave a comment Featured

Sometimes, the various thoughts and messages I think I’d like to share feel rather like a swirling nebula, and the question is, where are the stars?! Where is that cloud of desires, feelings, ideas, and possibilities coalescing into a star, a message that’s like a unified point of light, shining bright and clear? Sometimes, these days, the intention, time, and energy required for star formation (as it were!) are beyond me …. but I do what I can to keep the creation spark alive!

And that’s why it’s a gift to rediscover stars – writings and poems from past years that hold the essence of a message that remains relevant to my heart, that speak light to my soul again, that could speak light out into the world, perhaps. I wanted to share one of those stars here, a poem I wrote in November 2017 – a time when my heart felt like it had somehow become full of stones, but I sure didn’t want to keep carrying them and so I desperately sought a healing, freeing practice.

The stones that the poem speaks of are stones that any of us could be carrying in our hearts for whatever reason – we’re human, and these stones, these feelings, these emotional, psychological, and spiritual experiences, are a part of our humanness. But there is a way to see more deeply into these things, to see them for what they are (and are not), and there is a way to set ourselves free, to “turn the stones to peace”. It might be that we need to “turn the stones to peace” over and over and over again, to set ourselves free over and over and over again. At least, this is true for me – I find I need to return to the practice, partly because I seem to be good at finding stones to carry again!

It can be intense, challenging, sometimes exhausting work, but also such healing and freeing work – what lightness and light it can bring, that we then carry with us, wherever we go and to whomever we meet.

And drawing the lens out further: What if this were not only an internal practice, but a communal practice that we learned (re-learned) to share and do together – and found peace, became free, together? To carry stones no more to our own hurt and others’ hurt, but turn them to peace, be free. Be free to be love to ourselves and one another.

Turn the stones to peace

These stones
I have carried in my heart
Resentment stones
Envy stones
Loneliness stones
Grief stones
Bitter stones
Sorrow stones
These stones
I have carried in my heart

I reach
inside
and I gather these stones
I hold them in my hands
rest them on my palms
lift my hands up
feel the weight of these stones
I see the stones
outside my heart
I see them for what they
are
emptiness
perception not whole
truth
As I see them
for what they
are
they fall into dust
and from the dust
transform into doves
who take wing

Robbed of their form
and their weight
given a whole
truth
stones become peace
my heart is light
I carry stones there
no more
I am free

Presence/Poetry

/ Lanae / Leave a comment Featured

I haven’t forgotten I have a blog, nor have I forgotten the joy weaving words together brings me, but I have been seeking to discern where and how writing fits into this full to the brim season of my life – the career season, I guess! I still, and always will, consider writing as one of my first loves and one of my deepest callings. Sometimes, though, it’s been a neglected love, one that I needed to pick up from a shelf and dust off, rediscover anew. Or it’s a calling that’s gotten swamped amidst the multitude of other time and commitment choices I’ve made. Or it’s a gift I have too often left unopened or unshared …

I love the therapeutic work that I am engaged in, and it’s part of my life’s work, my calling – to listen, teach, serve, guide, counsel, be present, help people find the healing power within them – but writing has never stopped feeling as though it belongs in my life’s work too. The form and expression it takes just seems to keep evolving … and so the form it seems to be taking right now is journaling and poetry, putting my journaling into poem/prose form (free form, that is, free from any conventional style of rhythm and rhyme!). Somehow, poetry seems simpler to manage right now than a thought-piece or essay, too. And since I wrote multitudes of poems in my teens and twenties, returning to poem-form feels like coming home.

So, this blog offering is a poem drawn from more of my January retreat (at St. Benedict) journaling. A poem that feels like it weaves together the mosaic of intentions that shapes the deepest essence of  who and how I want to be in the work I do, the life I live … deep listening, loving speech, healing words, learning stillness, practicing the pause, holding presence, being present with Presence. Mindful speech, mindful silence.

These intentions are like vows – my ‘Presence in communication’ vows – vows that are sacred to me. And these are also vows offered to myself, my children, my friends, colleagues, clients, everyone I meet. I’m still only beginning to learn how to practice them and be them with mindful consistency across the many situations and interactions that come my way, but I am keeping them close at heart!

(And if you look in the wayback of my blog archives, I’ve carried these intentions, these vows – or they’ve carried me – for a while now, and they’ve only taken deeper root. They’re home, where they belong! I’m home in them …)

I think, too, that this poem just opened my eyes to something – that my calling is itself a mosaic, many parts of whole, as one! The intentions of belovedness and Presence hold this mosaic together.

Presence in Communication

The intention of my every day communication:
To carry silence with my communication,
to allow silence the place in my communication –
pauses before my words, rests while listening
whole listening
my own thoughts stilled
open to the silence behind the other’s words
the unspoken notes clear to my ear

My policy toward the spoken word:
Use only the words that are most necessary
With care, choose them well
Take a breath, take a sacred pause
better to enter into a space –
a space that allows the liberty to feel
into the right intent
from which the right words will
flow –
Right words will come
from the letting go of over-thinking
the search for them
surrendering into the flow
of Presence

Best of all, in all
tend presence, tend Presence
Presence speaks the best, says the most
and needs no words
to convey the meaning of love
to show another they are heard and known
If and when words fail –
for they do and will
accept this truth with grace –
If and when words fail –
remain present
With or without words
your presence is your
communication
of your essence

Deepen presence, deepen into it
become
intimate
with silence, stillness, sacred pauses, rests
deep listening
whole-soul listening not only to the words
but beyond the words
to the whole being of another

Listening with deep presence, quiet mind
from this well of deep Presence
mindful healing words
can be drawn to offer
like living water
But it is your presence still
that makes the water
of your words
Living

Awake

/ Lanae / Leave a comment Featured

Every year, my church holds an Easter vigil, beginning on Good Friday evening and extending through Easter Sunday morning. I’ve discovered I quite love the midnight to 4 a.m. hours – how quiet the church is at those hours! The little chapel area becomes a place set apart in space and time, with darkness and stillness of the night draped around …. a cocoon of calm.

I feel a fondness for that chapel – it has often been a retreat place for me, even in the midst of busy days, to come and find a bit of respite, to re-center. Not only to pray or meditate, but to think, to write, even to engage in an activity as mundane (and non-sacred seeming!) as work documentation – or to play the piano (which is one way I re-center). For me, it is a ‘thin place’ – places infused with the sense of the sacred, places that offer an invitation into reverence and renewal, places where the veil that often lies between everyday existence and Ultimate reality lifts or even dissolves …

The saying ‘thin place’ comes from Celtic wisdom tradition, where it is said that heaven and earth are only three feet apart, but in thin places that distance narrows. The boundaries between heaven and earth collapse, dissolve … or, perhaps more accurately, our sense of those boundaries collapses, dissolves. Our perceptions change, deepen – or we see beyond our usual perceptions, see beyond our illusions …

It seems to me that not only are there ‘thin places’, there are ‘thin people’ (no, I don’t mean physically thin!), ‘thin friendships’ – people and relationships that are like spiritual conduits, that help us come closer to the sacred, that invite us to go deeper in our spiritual journeys, that support and enrich, challenge and teach us.

And … ‘thin times’. Those midnight hours seem like ‘thin times’ to me … hours where I can let go of time, hours that become timeless, because the rush of the world is stilled. Hours where the sacred feels wide open to me and I feel wide open to it, hours where the boundaries and barriers fall away, and this world/Ultimate reality blend together. (Not that they don’t anyway, but there are times and places it’s more discernable or we’re more open and prepared to discern it).

So the midnight vigil hours in the chapel are the profoundly holy convergence of a ‘thin time’ with a ‘thin place’!

For my vigil time, I brought along with me my old ‘spiritual journal’ (which has received little attention from my pen for a long time) in case the Spirit brought me words. And as I played the piano, words indeed came … “May we not be afraid to be awake … May I not be afraid to be awake”

I have always loved the times when I sat down to write and the words wrote themselves … coming to my hand not from my mind but from somewhere deeper, from the soul, and coming into my soul from a yet deeper Source.

I share these words here just as they came to me then at 4 a.m., without revision, these words that are truly not mine. And whatever they might mean to you is yours!

May we not be afraid to be awake

                awake to ourselves, our pain, our need

                awake to one another

                awake to our own suffering

                             to others’ suffering

May we not be afraid to be awake

                to see the crosses that are present

                                                                in the world

                            the crosses of suffering

                            the crosses of injustice

May we not be afraid to see

                to see the crosses we bear

                the crosses others bear

                the crosses we have given others to bear

May we not be afraid to take

                to take up our crosses and walk

                to take away our crosses and walk

                to take away the crosses of injustice

                                           the crosses we have given others

                take away these crosses so that others

                                           may walk

                              We may walk together

May we not be afraid to see the suffering

                to be with the suffering

                to be awake to the suffering

                                            to be there

                                            present

                                            awake

                                            seeing

May we not be afraid to feel

                to feel the pain

                                our own pain

                to feel the pain

                                our neighbors often feel

                the pain of their crosses

May we not be afraid to be

                to be there

                to be with ourselves in our own Gethsemane

                to be with others in their Gethsemane

 

May we not be afraid to bear a cross of love

 

May we not be afraid

                to be there

                where there are crosses

May we not be afraid to be love

                where there are crosses

So that only love, only Love

                may be where there have been crosses

It’s so powerfully real to me that we must be willing to be with the pain, our own and others, in order to move through it and heal the suffering.

This thought, I think, has broad applicability, across many personal situations and relationships, across many societal issues.

Do we want healing? Justice? If so, are we invested in what the process means?

Because it does mean being willing to be awake, wide awake, to the pain of others – to say, the grief from relationship loss, the distress of poverty, the pain from accumulated wounds of racial injustices – before we can begin to understand better the suffering others have endured. To not be afraid to be feel the pain and discomfort that the awakening of deeper understanding and compassion can bring. To not be afraid to feel, to see, to be – to be humble, to be love.

To be wide awake to the pain, suffering, brokenness in the world is also to be wide awake to Love, to belovedness. Love is also in the world … but Love needs us to be awake to it so that we can embody it in the world.

May we not be afraid to be awake, to be wide awake in love to Love!