A Summer Day

The Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan,  and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper I mean—

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention,  how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me,  what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver

This beloved poem by Mary Oliver is known by just about everyone who reads poetry at all. It's one of my favorites and one I've used many times at the end of my Yoga class with teens. It renews my wonder and gratitude each time I share it. Nature is just so amazing! Who did make that grasshopper?

This poem reminds me that I do have a say in the planning of my life. Knowing how to pay attention reveals the perfection of this world and reminds us that we, too, are perfect. If we can come into the still point, we can know with our heart which plan is right for us. We can come from that deep sense of joy ~ our true self ~ and allow each moment to simply unfold.

Day Dream

Day Dream

One day people will touch and talk perhaps easily,

And loving be natural as breathing and warm as sunlight,

And people will untie themselves, as string is unknotted,

Unfold and yawn and stretch and spread their fingers,

Unfurl, uncurl like seaweed returned to the sea,

And work will be simple and swift as a seagull flying,

And play will be casual and quiet as a seagull settling,

And the clocks will stop, and no one will wonder or care or notice,

And people will smile without reason, even in winter, even in the rain.

        ~A. S. J. Tessimond 

from Kim Rosen “Saved by a Poem” newsletter, July 2011


When I read this, it brought tears to my eyes. I'm sentimental, I guess, and I really long for this kind of day dream. More that longing, I believe in this day dream. Is it so unreasonable to think we can touch and talk and untie ourselves? Isn't it reasonable to find work simple and swift and play causal and quiet? Haven't you ever experienced time dissolving? Did you care? Each time I find myself smiling without a reason, I know we're just that much closer to having the day dream be real.

My Daughter Asleep

My Daughter Asleep

And so to these


unspoken shadows


and this broad night


I make


a quiet


request


to the


great parental


darkness


to hold her


when I cannot,


to comfort her


when I am gone,


to help her learn


to love


the unknown


for itself,


to take it


gladly


like


a lantern


for the way


before her,


to help her see


where ordinary


light will not help her,


where happiness has fled,


where faith


will not reach.

3rd stanza from My Daughter Asleep by David Whyte

River Flow, New & Selected Poems, 1984-2007

David Whyte is one of my very favorite poets. He wrote a particularly poignant piece that resonates so deeply with me, even after my own daughter is grown and in a home of her own. I think the chord it strikes concerns the duality of our deep desire and/or fear for our child's well being.

Well being is so much more than simply physical health and safety...

All in this together

Life has taught me the wisdom of moving toward what scares me. Although it is embarrassing and painful, it is very healing to stop hiding from yourself. It is healing to know all the ways you are sneaky, all the ways that you hide out, all the ways that you shut down, deny, close off, criticize people, all your weird little ways. You can know all of that with some sense of humor and kindness, By knowing yourself, you're coming to know humanness altogether. We are all up against these things. We are all in this together.
                                                                    ~ Pema Chodron


In 2005, I traveled to China, the farthest I'd ever gone. My daughter was teaching in Beijing for a year and it afforded me the opportunity to experience a culture very different from my own. One of the strongest memories I have is a felt-sense of humanity, large masses of people moving like ants, knowing which way to turn, where to find food, shelter and companionship.  


Our visit to the Great Wall was filled with adventure, excitement and fear. Lillie, a student and friend of my daughter's was our guide. She found the right buses, all four of them, leading us through the city and countryside until we reached our destination. For better or worse, it was a holiday in China and many people joined us on our excursion.  Lillie said it wasn't always this crowded as we squeezed our way up the 1000-year old stairs. It was a beautiful day and the air was clear, filling our lungs with much needed oxygen as we made our way along the wall. Coming down the steep staircase, I marveled at the young women who chose to wear stiletto heels, as I carefully placed one foot after the other, my sturdy walking shoes grounding me with each step. 


It was a long day, filled with such intimacy. The vastness of the geography of the place and the sense of oneness with the earth was really amazing. Along with the thousands of people, whom I would never know; I felt a kind of intimacy with them. Through our shared experience we discovered "all the weird little ways" of the each other and ourselves.


Humor and kindness are essential tools for travelling. We are all in this together. 

Everything... is Light

The Ponds

Every year

the lilies

are so perfect

I can hardly believe

their lapped light crowding

the black,

midsummer ponds.

Nobody could count all of them—

the muskrats swimming

among the pads and the grasses

can reach out

their muscular arms and touch

only so many, they are that

rife and wild.

But what in this world

is perfect?

I bend closer and see

how this one is clearly loopsided—

and that one wears an orange blight—

and this one is a glossy cheek

half nibbled away—

and that one is a slumped purse

full of its won

unstoppable decay.

Still, what I want in my life

is to be willing

to be dazzled—

to cast aside the weight of facts

and maybe even

to float a little

above this difficult world.

I want to believe I am looking

into the white fire of a great mystery.

I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing—

that the light is everything—that it is more than the sum

of each flawed blossom rising and falling.  And I do.


~Mary Oliver


Sometimes these poems just speak so authentically there is nothing to add. I love the image of light being everything. What a great day "to cast aside the weight of facts and float a little above of this difficult world."  I do want to be dazzled by the white fire of a great mystery...

The True Self Hidden...

Your true substance is concealed in falsehood,

like the taste of butter in buttermilk.

Your falsehood is this perishable body;

your truth is that exalted spirit.

For many years, this buttermilk of the body

is visible and manifest, while the butter, which is the spirit,

is perishing and ignored within it -

until God sends a prophet, a chosen servant,

a shaker of the buttermilk in the churn,

who skillfully shakes it, so that you might know

your true self which was hidden.

~ Rumi ~

This body does conceal the true self and I love this image of the body as buttermilk, the butter as my exalted spirit. What is it that shakes the buttermilk until pure butter emerges? Is it practice, or awakening, or a teacher? Sometimes it's so easy to see those chunks of butter; other times so deep is the truth that even the great one shaking skillfully does not reveal what is hidden.


After many years studying, practicing, meditating, searching, I've come home. Could it be the shaking has done its job? Of course, there will always be unfolding, opening, experiencing, but the taste of this butter is unmistakable.

Heart Speaking

Always speak from the heart, never from the mind.

Your sincerity and courage will set an example for others too,

And by listening to you they will be inspired to reveal their own heart.

This "heart speaking" is a spiritual practice.

It means you must only tell the truth and live within your own boundaries and dimensions

Without ever bragging about things you won't ever be able to live up to or deliver to others.

Heart speaking will bring you a gift whenever you practice it.

You will always be right.

The heart knows but cannot tell; the mind doesn't know but can tell.

Stretch yourself to speak from the heart and bypass the mind.

You will see miracles boomerang back into your life.

~Rumi~

Most of us want to believe that we are honest; that we are sincere. But do we speak from the mind or the heart? I've found there is quite a difference. Heart speaking doesn't weigh how I will look in the eyes of others. It demands that I be compassionate will everyone, including myself. 

Perhaps most importantly, it gently allows the space to feel my boundaries and move softly into my own dimensions. After a lifetime of trying to be there for everyone else, I find myself longing to stretch into that "boundless heart space." Here I am sincere and courageous ~ what a gift!