A lifetime isn't long enough...

Life can be hard and soft at the same time. It feels that way today. Storms are roaring through the Midwest leaving so much destruction in their paths. Then the sun comes out and all is bright and beautiful. Except, of course, the stark reality of loss. Being human seems to be such a gift as well as a struggle. And it brings the ego to its knees ~ there are no tidy little answers. No way to make everything ok. At some point we have stand and say, "I surrender to whatever this is that I am a part of."

My heart is heavy from holding the sorrow, mine and all who knew and loved my husband's dear friend. He passed away on Monday doing what he loved, playing golf. Now we walk through all of steps that follow. We try to console each other. We remember the shared experiences that nurtured our friendships. We grieve and we know how very much this wonderful man will be missed.

As Mary Oliver says, " A lifetime isn't long enough for the beauty of this world and the responsibilities of you life." I believe those responsibilities include allowing all of our feelings to be expressed, the hard and the soft. We are all so deeply intertwined and the wisdom that we are one sustains me in ways I never imagined. 

"Let grief be your sister, she will whether or no..."

---

    

The poem is not the world.
It isn't even the first page of the world.  

But the poem wants to flower, like a flower.
It knows that much.  

It wants to open itself,
like the door of a little temple,
so that you might step inside and be cooled and refreshed,
and less yourself than part of everything.  

***  

When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider
the orderliness of the world. Notice
something you have never noticed before,

like the tambourine sound of the snow-cricket
whose pale green body is no longer than your thumb.

Stare hard at the hummingbird, in the summer rain,
shaking the water-sparks from its wings.

Let grief be your sister, she will whether or no.
Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also,
    like the diligent leaves.

A lifetime isn't long enough for the beauty of this world
and the responsibilities of your life.

Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away.
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.

In the glare of your mind, be modest.
And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling.

Live with the beetle, and the wind.
This is the dark bread of the poem.
This is the dark and nourishing bread of the poem.

  ~ Mary Oliver ~

A Leaf and a Cloud  

Make of Yourself a Light!

The Buddha’s Last Instruction

“Make of yourself a light,”
said the Buddha,
before he died.
I think of this every morning
as the east begins
to tear off its many clouds
of darkness, to send up the first
signal – a white fan
streaked with pink and violet,
even green.
An old man, he lay down
between two sala trees,
and he might have said anything,
knowing it was his final hour.
The light burns upward,
it thickens and settles over the fields.
Around him, the villagers gathered
and stretched forward to listen.
Even before the sun itself
hangs, disattached, in the blue air,
I am touched everywhere
by its ocean of yellow waves.
No doubt he thought of everything
that had happened in his difficult life.
And then I feel the sun itself
as it blazes over the hills,
like a million flowers on fire –
clearly I’m not needed,
yet I feel myself turning
into something of inexplicable value.
Slowly, beneath the branches,
he raised his head.
He looked into the faces of that frightened crowd.

~ Mary Oliver ~

One of my very favorite Mary Oliver poems is "The Buddha's Last Instruction." It resoundingly says "make of yourself a light." Be who you are. Live each day, each moment as a light, a light unto yourself and for others.

Oliver reminds us that life has its difficulties no matter who you are. The Buddha had a very hard life, you know. He had murderers among his monks; people who were jealous and selfish. He faced physical challenges and a harsh environment. Yet his longing to alleviate suffering for all beings was so strong that he couldn't rest until he reached enlightenment.

All he is asking each of us is to be a light to ourselves and others.

Easter Morning...

Easter Morning in Wales

A garden inside me, unknown, secret,
neglected for years,
the layers of its soil deep and thick.
Trees in the corners with branching arms
and the tangled briars like broken nets.

Sunrise through the misted orchard,
morning sun turns silver on the pointed twigs.
I have woken from the sleep of ages and I am not sure
if I am really seeing, or dreaming,
or simply astonished
walking towards sunrise
to have stumbled into the garden
where the stone was rolled from the tomb of longing.

— David Whyte

To hear David Whyte recite his poetry is a gift beyond words. This particular poem opens my heart deeper with each reading. How long has that garden inside been negected? This Easter it feels very much like astonishment and wonder and awe to be walking toward sunrise having stumbled into that garden. The tomb of my longing has opened and it is with great anticipation that the rebirth begins.

Goldfinches

Outside my window is a small dogwood tree and lately several goldfinches, both male and females have been visiting. Every day they entertain me with their energetic fluttering, their delightful chirping and their constant moving from branch to branch.  Sitting still on the window ledge, they tap on the window and gaze at me with tiny eyes. They must be saying something...  I'd like to think they've come to awaken my heart, to remind me "Spring is here! Life is good!"  

Mary Oliver reminds us there is no beginning or end, the temple is everywhere and everything. You can reach out, arms wide open, but not reach... Those goldfinches sing from the unreachable place in the tree. Yet we find joy is in the reaching out.

Where Does the Temple Begin,
Where Does It End?

There are things you can’t reach.  But
you can reach out to them, and all day long.

The wind, the bird flying away.  The idea of God.

And it can keep you as busy as anything else, and happier.

The snake slides away; the fish jumps, like a little lily,
out of the water and back in; the goldfinches sing
from the unreachable top of the tree.

I look; morning to night I am never done with looking.

Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around
as though with your arms open.

And thinking: maybe something will come, some
shining coil of wind,
or a few leaves from any old tree –
they are all in this too.

And now I will tell you the truth.
Everything in the world
comes.

At least, closer.

And, cordially.

Like the nibbling, tinsel-eyed fish; the unlooping snake.
Like goldfinches, little dolls of gold
fluttering around the corner of the sky

of God, the blue air.

~ Mary Oliver ~

(Why I Wake Early)

Infinity Everywhere

When you do things from your soul, 

you feel a river moving in you, a joy.

When actions come from another section, 

the feeling disappears.  

We are born and live inside black water in a well.

How could we know what an open field of sunlight is? 

Don't insist on going where you think you want to go.  

Ask the way to the spring.  

Your living pieces will form a harmony.  

There is a moving palace that floats in the air with balconies 

and clear water flowing through, 

infinity everywhere, 

yet contained under a single tent.

~ RUMI ~

Do you ever feel it ~ that river of joy moving in you? Sometimes you just have to let go of all your preconceived notions and let "your living pieces form a harmony." Let your spirit float in the air, infinity everywhere...

adapted from The Glance by Coleman Barks

Spring!

Such Singing in the Wild Branches

It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves -
then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still

and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness -
and that's when it happened,

when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree -
and I began to understand
what the bird was saying,

and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing -
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfectly blue sky - all, all of them

were singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn't last

for more than a few moments.
It's one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you've been there,
you're there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then - open the door and fly on your heavy feet; the song
may already be drifting away.

~ Mary Oliver ~
(Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays)

 This morning as I walked along side Payton, our remarkable golden retriever, it struck me that Spring finally had arrived! Daffodils, tulips and crocus, magnolia, apple blossoms, and redbuds in full bloom. Mary Oliver has a way unlike any other, to express the beauty of nature so that it touches our deepest longings. To feel the beauty of spring, a time of rebirth, of hope and joy. It's here! Everyone has a chance to experience these wonder-filled, magical moments. Don't miss it!

Mysterious Power

Tao Te Ching

Chapter 10

Can you keep your soul in its body,

hold fast to the one,

and so learn to be whole?

Can you center your energy,

be soft, tender,

and so learn to be a baby?

Can you keep the deep water still and clear,

so it reflects without blurring?

Can you love people and run things,

and do so by not doing?

Opening, closing the Gate of Heaven,

can you be like a bird with her nestlings?

Piercing bright through the cosmos,

can you know by not knowing?

To give birth, to nourish,

to bear and not to own,

to act and not lay claim,

to lead and not to rule:

this is mysterious power.

There is something about the Tao Te Ching that not only captures my attention, but also brings a deep sense of peace. When I first read it over forty years ago, I was such a neophyte in all things spiritual. This ancient, sacred text was so exotic and incomprehensible. But I was drawn to it again and again. Each time I opened it, a new way of seeing came to me. 

It still happens that way. Maybe that is just one more reason staying in the present moment is so important. The present moment just is ~ pure and simple ~ joy, peace, compassion, kindness for self and all others. "Can you love people and run things, and do so by not doing?"

Text from: 'Tao Te Ching - A book about the way and the power of the way'

Ursula K. Le Guin
Photo from: The Wisdom of the Sacred Feminine