Ice Storm

Reflections on an Ice Storm



December 16 2010



We are a spark of God

Encapsulated for a moment in our body --

Atoms borrowed from the earth.

As light flashes from a drop of ice clinging to a branch --

Transient twinkling matter within the swirl of vast, eternal love --

Our body channels spirit, revealing endless beauty:

Singing, working, moving, making, feeding, resting –

Our every act is prayer, proclaiming God.



Reflection:

This morning has been icy. The canvas was primed before dawn with an inch of beautiful white snow, and then the ice started falling. I love the fleeting beauty of the bare winter trees whose branches are suddenly coated with dangling ice diamonds. Their splendor seems like an answer to the prayers I’ve uttered in seeking to understand the purpose of my time on earth within the context of eternal spirit. The holidays this year engender sadness – regret for things that are no more. In contrast, God produces a sparkling canvas of transient loveliness, reminding me that I can experience this winter moment in many ways. I find sadness in a day spent housebound by the frailties of an aging body in relation to the risks posed by ice. But I can’t help but smile and feel the inner joy of spirit when I look out the window at the bountiful and gratuitous beauty to be found there. Ice droplets remind me to smile with joy.

Broadway Bus

The Broadway Bus December 5 2010


God was riding on the bus tonight.

Our uptown bus, near midnight,

Was filled with people going home:

The woman with the inch long lashes and the crimson nails

Sitting opposite, talking on her shiny bright red phone,

Telling someone she was Disney’s newest princess

And that when she sent her picture in they’d animate her;

The mother with the tired child -- A six year old swathed in

Hat and hood and gloves who stumbled as she grabbed his arm

Saying that he had to stay awake and walk;

The florid, smiling gent who strode through toward the rear,

His plaid Dickensian cape billowing across our seats,

His top hat gleaming;

The follower of Krishna in his orange garb,

The robe parting in the middle from behind to show his lean and hairy legs

Emerging out of sagging socks and hiking boots;

The tiny, smiling woman with gray hair and cane,

Falling into the seat beside me as the bus lurched forward;

Older couples, bundled up against the cold, eyelids drooping even as they

Smiled and talked about the shows they’d seen.

In our tired diversity, we showed our human side,

Our illusions about our lives and why they matter.

Yet God is all and all is God, and

Together, sparks of God, we shared divinity diversely riding on the bus uptown.


Reflection:

New York is nothing if not diverse. Every trip, no matter what the way of traveling, is an adventure, an encounter with the unexpected, the lavish wealth of human expression. I had spent the weekend at my seminary classes, contemplating “Who am I?” and “Who is God?” -- learning that in the Jewish tradition, God is one with all creation, that our majestic diversity of expression comes entirely from the divine source and expresses divine nature. Within that context, our lumbering, lurching bus began to seem like Noah’s Ark, carrying forward into the future a random assortment of God’s human expressions. I was fascinated, as always, with our infinite variety and our sublime godness. It was a moment of prayerful gratitude for having this experience.

Election Day 2010

Being Powerless November 2 2010



Election night.

I watch opponents sweep aside my hopes and dreams

For justice and our civil rights.

I didn’t cause it, can’t control it. I weep.



Tonight, driving home along a busy country road,

My car one in a line, following and followed,

In the headlights, I see writhing, on the center line--

With shiny fur, brown and black, a long plump tail--

A creature of the night, injured, pained, struggling for its life.

I feel the tears spring forth; I, too, writhe as I speed by.

I cry out “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

It’s nothing that I did; there’s nothing I can do.

I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t help.



Remembering, today, the plight I lived,

A helpless mother

Unable to prevent abuse and meanness –

I would have sacrificed my life to help my daughter –

If it had mattered – but it didn’t.

Tears fell then and trickle from my eyes today.

I couldn’t change things, then or now.



Two years ago, my beloved left this life,

Beside me in the bed, in mid-sentence –

A total shock.

There was nothing I could do, no way to bring her back.

I racked my brain – was it my fault? Had I missed something?

Could I have prevented it?

No. No way at all.



Somehow, though things happen that are sad and painful --

Things I can’t ward off --

Acceptance of what is leads me to peace

Beyond the seen and felt,

Deep in the knowing of another plane.



REFLECTION

The outcome of meditation is the opportunity to glimpse a reality that underlies the time and space of this physical life. Though the physical is so often jarring and deeply disturbing, the transcendent plane of spirit is filled with light, love, peace, and exaltation. The mystery is ineffable and blissful. In prayer, I express my desire to inhabit this other world, even as my feet and my senses move me through the passage of time and the dominion of space on planet earth. Are all these painful experiences real, or are they simply illusions of reality through which I pass as through a hologram – they seem solid, but are nothing more than total illusion.

Two Years Ago A Death....

Incubation October 28 2010


Two years ago, my life changed.

In a second’s time,

I found myself a widow.

Today, on writing to another person

Starting on that journey,

I’ve read back to what I’d written then,

And realized that on that day,

I entered a cocoon.

My life stopped short,

As if I’d died as well. .

I look back now and read those words of grief,

And see I’ve now emerged,

Changed,

Into a new time of my life –

A time with wings to fly ,

A mind tuned far beyond this earth,

A heart that overflows with love.

My grief has morphed me,

Helped bring out the spirit stuff of which I’m made,

Led me to a place of light.

Yes, I’m grateful for this chance I’ve had to grow.



Reflection

This will be a very long blog post. Rereading those poems of immediate grief reminded me that I’d written them to share. I had felt so alone and abandoned, and I searched for words that would reflect those feelings. Searching in vain, I felt impelled to write my own, to chronicle the incredible valleys and peaks of the grief experience, so that someone else in her or his own time, might read them and know that the grief of losing a beloved partner is universal and shared.

Today, upon rereading the poems, I felt impelled now to post them for those who find their way to this blog. Should I publish them elsewhere? Perhaps readers will let me know their thoughts ?

 
Missing Ellen Part I, November 2008
Copyright 2008  Rosemary C. Hyde




LOOKING November 14, 2008


Labor Day 1999, East Village apartment building, Elevator door opens to dark landing

Revealing my Love, my Bubbele -- our first meeting,

Tall, gray hair, beatific smile, surrounded by bright light --

Her loving aura.

Hazel eyes the same color as mine,

Our hearts beat faster, instantly smitten.

Inside, we sat facing, till wee morning hours,

Only looking into each others’ eyes,

Wordlessly, insatiably absorbing each other,

Imbibing the wonder, the heart, the depths,

Becoming one overnight.

Nine years later –a brief but total unity, lives entwined,

Every moment, every day spent together.

I look at her cool dead shell, her strong, peaceful face, her energy gone.

My heart beats faster, overflows with loss and love. Tears stream.

Love is eternal.


TUMBLED ROCKS 11/14/08

Our hearts and souls deeply united –

Sharing insights, observations, love of words,

Discovering the path to wisdom hand in hand, soul to soul.

Nine years of transformation,

Tumbled rocks polishing each other, revealing hidden value, brilliant hues, greater love,

Smoothing away rough spots and dull coatings,

Sparking over trifling differences and embedded gems,

Transforming each other forever, revealing the divine.



Today’s e-mail 11/15/08

My beloved,

Today, I got your e-mail

From two months ago –

You sent “An infinite supply of hugs”

Saved up against the now

When you have gone,

When I so need embrace ,

Your warm breath, your beating heart.

How did you send me that today, knowing?


THE SUN STILL SHINING Nov 16 2008 RCH

Dark, windy midday.

The swirling leaves and dust

Echo sadness in my soul.

Clouds part, and instantly I bathe in stunning light.

The sun was always there, shining, though I couldn’t know.

I mourn losing my Love,

The house echoing emptiness.

But she is still there, somewhere, beaming.

I robe myself in her rays.


WORTHWHILE Nov 17 2008


I think of when we first moved here -

Our first mail, first greetings to new neighbors,

Excitement over a new house, new friends.

Today, your ashes sit silent,

The house achingly empty.

Your books, dishes, glasses, robe

Sit, discarded, no one's - as now am I.


I See You Walking
I'm here, surrounded by my family's love,

By friends' concerns,

Trying to carry on,

But weeping, sobbing unexpected tears.

I see you striding, gamboling,

Frisking with beloved pets.

Freed of pain and hindrance, now made whole.

Strolling arm in arm with friends and loved ones,

Looking back to assure that all goes well with me.

At least I am happy to carry in my heart that

Comforting , hopeful image of you.


THE PLUNGE NOV 18 2008

Shock. Unreality. Daze.

Nothing is the same.

I don't recognize myself.

The world is upside down, blurred, wavy.

I've plunged into a deep sea,

Spiraling downward,

Carried by momentum,

Not breathing, not daring to,

Sensing myself from a distance

In shadowy green.


MOLECULES November 17, 2008


She said her remaining molecules would care about me.

That was comforting.

She said we are always exchanging molecules,

That they leap constantly from one person to the next.

When she died, her molecules suffused me.

But, still alive, they keep leaping, from me to others.

Always shifting, changing.

They must move along.

Already, in two weeks, so many changes.

I miss her! She left, and I didn't.

She is in my mind and heart, but Memory quickly stiffens, like an old scar.


SEEDS OF LOVE

A word, a look, penetrating the soul,

A question piercing to the heart of sadness, grief, fear, hope.

She always knew each person’s deepest self.

For many, these seeds of love echoed forward

In lives better and truer --

Touched by an Angel of light.



Relearning


She always lit the fires, loved the dancing flames, the rays of warmth.

Tonight, first snow of the season.

To honor her, I light a fire on the hearth.

Smoke billows out, alarms clamor, telephone rings,

Should we call the fire department?

No, No! No fire, just smoke. Closed flue. Fanning,

Open windows and doors. It's OK.

Alarm won't turn off - too much smoke.

We cough and chase the dog outside.

Finally, we get the flue open.

Is she laughing at us?


WE WERE WE

I wanted to look at your face a little longer, to be able to let you go as

it felt right. I had to go, though, despite my disappointment. I know your

face no longer is you, that you have emerged a fully endowed, beautiful,

graceful, spirit from the bent and battered chrysalis body that shaped

your earthly life. I indulge in the image of us as kindred spirits,

flitting around each other outside earthly attachments, eternally

bonded in the dimensionless ether, in the realms of pure spirit. Our

souls created together unearthly harmonies in major and

minor keys. Together we sang the melodies of pure love and pure creation,

each of us unique and also complementary to the other. Together we also

rarely saw eye to eye on things like how to arrange tools or where to store extra napkins. Such an irony! We were capable of ineffable harmony and crashing dissidence.

In the process, we created sparks of love in the hearts of many, building

community and inspiring people to love greatly. There certainly was a "We."


BREATHE! Nov 18 2008


Today, a bodywork session

Asking me to relax into gravity,

Breathing deeply, Accepting.

Especially accepting.

After 40 minutes I feel better

Than I have in two weeks.

Grief strangles muscles, spirit,

Brings grasping pain

Magically relieved with help,

Yet impossible to fathom alone.


Prank? November 14 2008

OK - Let's see how this works.

We need other people.

We need love.

It's more important than anything , other than food, water, shelter,

sanitation, heat.

When we develop friendship, companionship, relationship - we feel happy and

fulfilled.

Our life curls comfortably around our connection with the Other, which is

really a connection with our Self and with the Divine.

We share suffering, joy, laughter, waking and sleeping, relaxing.

Then life gets yanked away - the Other dies.

I sit in shock, wondering how to move. My life is broken.

Is something there beyond this life on earth?

If love is not forever, why do we experience it?

Why does it render our life splendid, worthwhile?

Is this a cruel prank? Or am I not seeing what’s real?


WINTER

Transformation, rest,

The appearance of death.

Not dead, but fallow, lying silent.

We two were one.

With you gone, my leaves shrivel, drop.

My heart a winter wood,

Waiting for new life.



BOZO THE CLOWN November 20, 2008

Punch! Bam! Biff!

Rock. Spin. Bounce.

Bruise. Cry. Hurt.

Always smile.

Stick it out.

Grieve.


Habits NOVEMBER 21 2008


Habits are comfortable.

We enjoy our routines – getting up, stretching,

Brushing our teeth, showering,

Smelling that first cup of warm brew in the morning.

Our movements are precise –

Two steps here and three there. Get a glass and dish on the way by.

Turn left, reach into the drawer for a spoon,

Not needing to look -- Practiced motions effortlessly repeated,

Choreographed,

A fluent sequence

Of graceful, entwined, well learned movements.

Now, suddenly, I’m alone.

The dance has vanished.

Like a disconnected marionette, I turn aimlessly

Right, then left, forward then back,

Wondering, confused: “What now?”

“ Where’s that spoon?”

“What comes next? “


PRISMS NOV 22, 2008

You survive now as a prism,

Pieces scattered, in me, in friends, in family,

In places we’ve shared.

Shards of memory.

Kaleidoscope of tumbling moments.

Chiseled glass parsing rays of love in rainbow tints.

I recognize you in a phrase, a moment, a chance event

But long to hold you whole, to feel your warmth, your breath,

Your kiss.



WHO I AM NOVEMBER 23 2008

We.

I.

Immense gulf between the two!

Rosemary and Ellen -- Roellen – one identity, one energy. We.

Now I must learn to say “I,” foreswearing “we.”

But “our” life continues, our selves stay merged,

Our souls forever bathed in the becoming of shared love;

Even if one can no longer see “us” – only “me. “


TWINING NOV 24 2008

Grapevines,

Twining ,

Shaped for years around each other,

Supporting, mirroring, touching , caressing.

Inseparable --

My soul remains enlaced with yours.



WONDERLAND NOV 24 2008


Down the rabbit hole.

In a heartbeat total change, all is weird.

The white rabbit, Late, late!

The tea party, babbled nonsense,

The Cheshire cat grinning – at what?

The red queen playing croquet – Off with her head!



When you left, I went down the rabbit hole -- unfamiliar chaos in my soul, my mind, my life.

I can’t remember if Alice escaped.

Mind-altered nightmare.

Will it end?


FEAR November 24, 2008

I am alone, as many people are.

At night, fear closes in.

I feel small, fragile,

Like a nestling dislodged, hungry, flightless.

What will happen to me alone, old, sick?

If I die, will we be as one again? Will you come for me, care for me?

Will I feel again the wondrous peace of loving union?


Walk Nov 25 2008

Walking in morning air, brisk, sunny, beautiful.

I connect with the world,

Love the light,

Resonate to winter stillness.

I recognize, too, life from other spheres,

Connecting with all that lies outside this present moment.

Remembering that nothing is lost that has been,

That I am wrapped in endless love.



Swirling Nov 26 2008

Tossing, crashing waves.

Crackling, devouring flames.

Wind-driven clouds, pregnant with power.

Nature’s restless energy, snapping and surging --

Gusts, tides, gales, inferno.

Same rhythms, same swirls as in my heart and mind.



RISK of Loving November 27, 2008

We were committed.

To have and to hold, in sickness and in health,

Till death.

To share our hearts and minds, our thoughts and feelings,

Till compassion.

To live, laugh, and love together

Till joy.

To think and study together

Till wisdom.

To walk together on life’s path,

Hand in hand, soul in soul, apart but united.

By turns blissful, sad.

Within our joy of unity lay the pain of separation,

The shift from day to night, from bliss to ache,

The rhythm of our passage across time --

The price of loving.


A time for everything nov 28 2008


Your heart stopped,

Stepped out of the pulsing rhythm of life.

I helped you put on one slipper, and then you left – Gone!

No more shifting seasons, ticking clocks, waking and sleeping.

Steady breaths stopped.

No more rising and falling, lying and standing, rest and action.

It happened so suddenly, so easily.

Was it because your whole life skirted the rhythms --

Asymmetrical, outsider, were you already on the edge?



I’ll Clean Up! Nov 27 2008

“I’ll clean up! “

You always did with such good cheer!

I could not believe how you enjoyed cleaning,

Making things beautiful again,

Respecting their substance

And their makers.

I fry hamburger alone, grease flying.

Then my tears mix with soap

As I wipe the skillet and the stove,

Missing your cheerful “I’ll clean up!”



Co-Creating November 29 2008

Two minds, two hearts, three hands..

One spirit, Creating one life for our time together.

Two houses, two kitchens, two histories , two professions

Unified in us, in our space, our aura.

We were Not one, Not two –

Instead something other, beautiful, hopeful, more --

We lived the love that humans long for in their deepest hearts.

Now you are there, and I am here – Still united.

We sit astride, one foot on earth, the other where?

I wonder how to be in two places.


Respiration Nov 30 2008


I wake each morning, the sound of dog and cat breath in my ears,

My heart leaping to greet you before I see you are not there beside me.

I give thanks for these furry creatures who share my breath,

Living souls who knew and loved you, too.

I rise and spend my days learning to find you everywhere in spirit.

To know that all I meet exchange your love with me,

That love is what I now must learn to breathe.


Meditation, Dec 1 2008

I’m learning.

After meditating as duty, requirement, task,

Toil to attain calm,

Now I see how meditating links me

With what is,

With spirit, love -- limitless, beyond matter.

And with you.

What I call “real” is just a dream,

My made up view cocooned within my single self;

Peering from the spyholes of my eyes,

Not seeing from the vastness of my soul.



Pea Soup Dec 2 2008

I talk and talk. I try to listen,

To hear what I need to hear,

To learn what comes next, what to expect.

But no one tells me.

Maybe I talk too much. Maybe I look as though I know

What I’m doing, as though I’m “coping beautifully.”

What does that mean?

It’s like a thick fog,

A white-out .

I look about, and see only my own foot and hand.

As once in the Alps, after a Sky-Tram ride,

Snow everywhere, all white.

If I move, will I fall off an unseen edge?

Will I lose the inn?

I have no idea where to turn;

No safety, no path, no knowing --

--Nothing. All blank.



Cauldron Dec 2 2008

Bubbling, boiling, thick brown stew

In iron cauldron --

My thoughts.

I peer in.

A potato bubbles up:

I must remember it.

But then it sinks back out of sight,

Followed by a pea, a carrot, an onion –

All there one moment, gone the next --

My thoughts -- ever fleeting.


The Real Ellen Dec 3 2008

Who is the real person?

I look at your pictures, read your poems,

Listen to what people say about you.

I think of you as a young physician, thrilled

To help people, to be important, to count in the world.

I reflect on your mission to create compassion for the dying.

I wonder at your sensitivity to suffering and to beauty, to language and music,

At your adeptness -- not disabled,

At your ready wit and play with words,

At your transcendent poetry,

At your impromptu, silly, amazing morning songs,

At the crushing pain you carried with you always, though never giving in,

At the wealth of life and joy you gave each moment.

I think of our time together –

Our peace, our spats,

The minutes and years when just

Being together filled all the crannies

Of our hearts with love

As if we’d drunk pure soul food.

I am smitten with you more and more.

How could one person be so much, so many?



Moving Ahead? Dec 4 2008

In two days, the cocktail party memorial you requested.

Putting it together has been good –

A project, something to distract me,

To share with others.

But then what?

Then it’s time to move on,

To claim my life, to find new friends, to live alone.

But I’m not ready.

I feel on the earth alone,

With no echo to my calls.

I feel muffled in cotton, unable to move, a mummy,

All gladness gone , all purpose fled.

Left.



Your Party December 6, 2008

It’s over. The house was full,

The bar active, the food abundant, a Feast.

New friendships budded and old ones swelled.

I know you joined us as we celebrated knowing you,

Rejoiced that you’d been born,

Wept at losing you.

I wore your scarf, your earrings, your bracelet,

The jacket you gave me.

They made me feel closer to you,

Armored with your strength,

Embraced within your love.

We made the party you had pictured,

Knowing that its love would draw us all together

In a warm circle, friends.



SPIRIT GIFT December 7 2008

What happens when many people meet

To celebrate the life and love of one

Whose path has led beyond this life?

Jesus told his friends to gather in his name and he would be with them.

When they did, they were transformed.

I always thought that only happened if you were God.

Yet, yesterday, your loved ones came together,

Shared one room, one breath, one feast, one toast --

Blessing. Honoring. Remembering. Learning.

You too were here,

Present in our hearts and minds.

Your spirit lifted ours above our daily fears.

We communed -- a sacred moment,

A hint of bliss to come


NIGHT DEC 9 2008

Too much!

Sadness.

Tasks.

Changes.

Worries.

Weariness.

Missing you!

Tears.

Must stop and go to bed!



Closet Memories Dec 10 2008

Time to look through closets and

Sort clothes, bags, shoes, jewelry,

Making room for life continuing.

Each item recalls a different story --

A life history on coathangers.

The ultrasuede skirts perfectly

Hand made with graceful pleats --

Proud elegance under white coat and stethoscope.

The men’s bathrobe, stylish, from Saks

Found on a sale table for a song ---

Your dress for a posh party -- prankish delight.

The burnished cowhide satchel – professional power bag--

Carry-on for conference presentations --

Commanding authority.

The sale dress you bought

To wear in scorching Midwest summer heat

For my daughter’s wedding – cool, unwrinkled, matriarchal.

The Lucy Cavendish Cambridge College scarf,

Blue stripes on black --

Pride of friendship with a don.

Every piece a different memory, added story,

How can I discard these markers of your life?

For the next owner, they’ll be just fabric, leather --

Virgin stuff, stripped of memory and meaning.


LETDOWN DECEMBER 10 2008

Suddenly, I’m tired, alone.

Your memorial now is past,

Friends have thought of you and moved on,

Telling me to come along.

But I can’t move with them.

My life is too altered, too strange, too alone,

Our special closeness vaporized.

I attend a seminar on grief, and

Have to leave.

I think of losing you and sob.

I’m asked where I am I on the “healing scale of 1 to 10.”

-- I'm Elsewhere.



WIDOW DECEMBER 10 2008

Widow. Widow’s weeds. The merry widow.

Black widow spider. Widow-maker. Widow’s Walk.

Widow -- what a strange-sounding word!

I’ve known it all my life.

I’ve never understood

Its aloneness, sorrow, slow moving stupor,

Its feeling of being sliced in half, axed.

No longer joined in daily life and love,

Condemned to wander, always missing, always wistful for what was.



ATTACHMENT DECEMBER 10 2008

Grief is a way of staying close to you, of

Not moving on.

With you I was happy – moving on is sad.

How can I stay united with you

If I stop thinking of you?

How can I think of you without missing you?

How can I miss you and not grieve?

For over 60 years I yearned to find you, and you me.

Then ten short, beautiful years – our lifetime together.

I am grateful. And bereft.



Integration December 11 2008

How do I “integrate?”

I want to stay connected with you,

And I need to find me.

I look for one path forward,

But I have double vision-- two roads, forking.

Where are the 3-D glasses, red and green,

That I can wear to see again both life and love

United, deep, whole?



Love December 12, 2008

I knew how much you loved me

Finding your old ID list today --

Scribbled pages, nameless passwords,

Penciled crudely at all angles –

Indecipherable. Impossible to use.

You’d used it for years.

But next to your computer, you had laid for me to find

A new, typed, ordered list with

Usernames, passwords, id codes

Meticulously noted, logically laid out, stapled together.

You typed this when typing was painful,

When you felt tired and weak.

You thought of me and showed your love --

A splendid gift .



DREAM TRIP DECEMBER 12 2008

Last night, I knew I’d been there before.

Every night for a while, now,

I’m traveling, traveling –

In trains, mostly, all night, wearily pushing on;

Finding myself in strange and lonely stations

Riding alone in empty cars

All over the world,

Always searching,

Looking for my lost mate.

Where has she gone?

I seek her energy, her love, her familiar smell,

Her loving gaze. Surely I’ll find her somewhere!!

Giving and Receiving December 13, 2008

Energy moves. It creates itself.

When I give attention and love to others,

It comes back to me,

Like a cosmic game of ‘catch,” sending the ball back and forth, over and over.

I was taught to return the ball always, never to keep it,

Never to enjoy it for myself,

Daring never to believe I could be loved.

But you saw into me and still wanted me.

I am comforted, beloved.



Grief December 13, 2008

Though, inevitably, we mourn the loss of every love,

We fear grief.

We try to hide the thought.

We stay too busy, captured by daily tasks –

Laundry, cleaning, shopping, mowing, trimming, arranging, our job—

We call this “life.”

Yet we ache for deeper realms,

Where love and grief alike await.

As the hidden side of love,

Grief too must bring its gift –

Its transcendent view of life conjoined with death,

Its hint of liberation and reunion with what Is,

Inner passageway to Joy.



Waves of grief December 14 2008

People have told me grief comes in waves.

I feel its surf in the grains of my life,

Here, eroding -- destroying strength and calm;

There, depositing -- covering up who I was before.

Steady rhythm of breath, of life –

Moving the very sand of self,

Creating new birth, memorable “firsts,”

Sculpting the me who will live on, alone.



Elusive Sleep December 14, 2008

I’m tired, weary.

It’s been five weeks since you left.

But sleep stays just out of reach,

Eluding my exhaustion,

Like a shimmering oasis

Dancing afar before my eyes,

Sweet rest that I will never find.

.
NEW YORK WINTER December 15, 2008

We traveled back and forth, thinking we could be “bicoastal”,

And I’m so glad I had that chance to live with you

In your beloved loft, your neighborhood, your building,

Learning a little what it meant to be, like you, a New Yorker.



I think of:

That first Christmas, schlepping the six foot spruce

From the corner grocery, down the street, and up the elevator,

Boots, mittens, knitted scarves and hats shielding us from knifing wind.

Then decorating, in our first shared spell of Christmas magic.



The stiff courtesy of doormen, stationed all day, all night, -- hailing, guarding, helping.

Your stories of asking the doormen to put on your earrings or button your shirts

Because, one-handed, you couldn’t.



The icy drafts stabbing in through lofty windows, impossible to block,

Making us set the heat to 80 so we didn’t freeze.



The friendly firefighters in the station down the street, smiling and waving

As we walked by to the barber, the cleaner, the grocery, the deli.



The purity and quiet of fresh city snow, so quickly blackened.



The surprise of glancing from the 7th floor

To see yellow cabs everywhere, sole traffic, horns honking.



The sound of sirens through the night, background symphony to sleep.



The excitement of walking to a busy restaurant or hailing a cab to Lincoln Center,

Of passing stalls selling items you later said you “got on the street.”

Walking, wondering, past cracked brick houses and regal brownstones in The Village,

Exploring the Green Market with its winter New York produce –

City moments, always hustled, elbowing with others.



The naked fear of cancer checkups at Sloan Kettering,

Where everyone – respectful -- called you “Dr. Scheiner.”



The intimacy of spending all day and night together, burrowed in your loft --

15 foot ceilings and classic modern furniture, like a photo in House Beautiful.



The pleasure of sitting side by side in black leather chairs,

Cheerful morning eastern sun warming our heads and arms

As together we read today’s New York Times and drank fragrant coffee.



The tender moments spent cuddled,

Iimmersed in each other, before the crackling fireplace,

Bach Inventions gently pouring over us.



The bare emptiness of that beloved loft

When, off to California,

We sat side by side on kitchen chairs, all else taken by the movers,

Floors and walls starkly clean,

Seeing our honeymoon suite for one last time

Before flying, excited, to our new house:

To the life we would build together.



Now you’ve gone alone to your next venture,

And I wrap around me that first season’s precious memories,

To help warm me through this long and solitary winter.



Reframing December 15, 2008

I’m on a stormy ride with no map, no seatbelt,

No way of knowing what comes next.

As on a wild coaster, carried up and down,

Whipped around sharp angles,

Spinning off , flying out.

Will I limp away as victim -- haunted, injured?

Or will I rather grasp adventure, be transformed?



Progressive, December 16 2008

As people live, they evolve.

Their awareness changes –

Each new experience bringing new insights.

They say soulmates remain connected, eternally.

Do you keep learning with me

On my always lively daily path?

Do I get to learn with you in your new home?

How does that work?

Do we evolve together, even when apart,

Like paired electrons across continents?

I hope so!



Junk Mail Dec 17 2008

I never thought I’d welcome junk mail!

But your name is still there.

Life seems normal again when I sort the day’s envelopes.

The wacky errors we used to laugh about –

The middle initial you acquired on a list and never lost,

The mixups of my name and yours.

It’s sad to discard these worthless papers sent to you --

Undeliverable.


Filling Ellen’s Shoes December 18, 2008

When we first met, and you took me to visit your neighbor,

We were sitting, chatting, on her couch,

And suddenly she asked me “Are you wearing Ellen’s clothes??”

Such a strange question! We laughed.

You and I had just met, and I was dressed as me.

But we were the same size, we shopped at the same sites,

And we often liked the same things.

When catalogues came, we raced to see who looked and ordered first,

Who got the desired items.

Now, I AM wearing your clothes.

I feel closer to you, I feel protected, I honor your memory.

A week after you died, new shoes you’d ordered for yourself arrived.

I tried them on. They fit. They looked great.

I kept them, didn’t send them back.

They seemed to have some meaning, coming when they did.

I’m still learning how to fill your shoes in other ways,

How to be as loving, friendly, lively, engaged in life

As you taught me.

How to meditate and connect with the divine

As you showed me.

How to inspire love in others

As you did in me.



“Ellen Loved” December 19, 2008

As people send their loving thoughts of you

For your “Memory Book,”

I learn your genius in their shared words:

“Ellen loved.”

You told me that you thought

People were disappointed in you

Because disabled, worn out from trying harder,

You produced less “work.”

In fact, people instantly

Saw your love for them, your caring,

Your generous urge to help them grow and learn.

You didn’t disappoint them –you inspired.

You were a true friend.

Did I learn well enough from you

To carry forth your love, your legacy?


Light Bearer December 20, 2008

Your last name, Scheiner, meant “light bearer,”

And your first name, Ellen, meant “light.”

You were called a “lightning rod,”

A conduit for people’s feelings.

I think of you those last two months --

You glowed with life. You were transcendent.

You radiated, as death approached.

You achieved peace, you were serene,

You had forgiven.

You were glass

Focusing the light of love,

Searing it into us.



Hanukkah and Solstice December 21, 2008

Tonight, I lit a Menorah candle to honor you,

To show my love –a tiny point of light

Shining in the wintry gloom.

First day of Hanukkah, celebrating light.

It’s also winter Solstice,

The day of least light, least warmth.

I sense the unending --

That you are truly gone,

Not coming back.

That life is darker, harder.

I never saw how deep and final losing you would be,

How I would miss my Sun.



Every Step with You, December 22, 2008

Every morning, we made the bed together,

A ballet duet, matched step by step.

Together grasping sheet, then blanket,

Arranging them just so.

Now only one side is disarranged,

And I jerk the covers carelessly.

So many little moves built

Our daily waltz together,

Synchronized with ease --

Answering the door and telephone,

Grooming the dog,

Cooking dinner and cleaning up,

Planning evenings, outings, parties.

Sitting together in our leather chairs

Reading Sunday papers;

Choosing when to relax indoors or out,

The ritual of sitting down at 5, drink in hand, to talk --

Partners in the daily dance of life.

Now I do these things alone,

Shared harmony missing,

My ears hissing loudly in the silence.



Blind Navigation December 23 2008

Suddenly alone --

It’s like navigating in a fog:

Shoals loom and stormy tears flood in--

Shipwreck hazards, Unseen, unmapped.

As if now blinded,

I seek new and other senses,

Guides to harbor peace.


Christmas Spirit Present December 24 2008

I dreamed a Christmas service.

My favorite childhood priest was there.

He always helped me, made me feel special, as did you.

He told me

To run up and ring the steeple bell.

Other bells were pealing forth and

Our voice, too, was needed.

I ran up, as told, gripped the rope, and pulled.

Nothing.

I climbed higher. Twigs and grass fell from the bell.

It wouldn’t ring. Then I got really close, and saw

Inside the bell a nest of budgies –

Eager, bright green birds, about to fledge,

To spread the Word to many.

I helped them fly away. I was happy.

I did my job, felt its meaning.

I had feared an agonizing Christmas

As I mourned your absence.

Instead, as in the Christmas story,

I feel warmed by others.

The bell rings out.

The Word is love, and I am blessed.



Christmas Night, December 25, 2008

I sit in my chair, alone, Christmas music in the air.

No light in your chair’s corner.

Holiday tunes add to the silence.

When I went to play a disk of carols today,

I found in the machine the B-Minor Mass –

Last melody you heard,

Acutely tuned to your heart’s wish.

Are you hearing now music more divine than Bach’s,

Or can we listen here together?


Christmas Joy, December 25, 2008

Little boys, intense excitement,

Craving the new.

Christmas anticipation.

Watching them, I understand

My remembered childhood hurry for Christmas.

It came too slowly -- too eagerly awaited.

Now I yearn to reunite with you --

My future Christmas.

Grazing December 26, 2008

Today was your favorite kind of day –

You called it “grazing.”

No appointments, no have-tos, no pressure.

A “day off” doing only what comes to mind.

Finally, today I had no calendar, and

I “grazed,” thinking of your glee

When you had this chance.

I see now your insight in tasting bliss,

Aware that one day of grazing makes but a

Spot of order

Iin the weedy infestation of tasks.

Delight requires staying in the Now,

Focusing on each move like a Zen Master,

Loving the beauty of simple work well done.


Meanings of Odd, December 27, 2008

A friend said “This must have been an odd holiday.”

What an unusual word to use!

But so true – everything was strange, including how I see myself.

I was not alone, thanks to family, but I missed your Love.

The day seemed weird, abnormal, anomalous.

Odd is all those things and

Also means not paired -- alone –

Peculiarly, I have now become odd:

Mateless, like an odd sock,

Victim of vicissitude.



Electronic Images December 27, 2008

Photographs, videos, recordings –

Together, we made these objects

Carelessly, thoughtlessly – for fun.

Now, suddenly, they are treasures of you,

More precious than gold or jewels.

I seek them, hoard them, play them, view them,

Wondering how I didn’t

Know each moment’s painful joy or

Feel stabbing pleasure in each second we were close,

As now I feel the razor slash of losing you.


Opposites Attract, December 28, 2008

I sit in meditation,

Breathing deeply, softly, evenly,

Watching swaying trees, knowing I depend on them.

I inhale vital oxygen, produced by plants.

I exhale then what they breathe in.

Opposites.

Like plants and vertebrates,

You and I sustained each other.

You, physician, scientist, activist, New Yorker, Jewish;

I, teacher, homeopath, ethnographer, small town Irish Catholic.

Our love became as air, life-giving.

Opposites, we breathed together.



HOSPITAL DREAM December 29, 2008

I felt you in my dream last night.

You were in a hospital,

Alone in a room, where you had died.

But you weren’t dead.

Your molecules radiated love and energy,

Enfolding me, though I could not be with you.

I felt joy.

You let me know that when I meditate,

When I think of you, you feel my love

And I bring joy to you as well.

When I awoke, I thanked you for that loving moment.

It was heavenly!



Happy, December 30, 2008

Today I felt happy. It was strange.

I haven’t enjoyed reading a book or article,

Listening to beautiful music,

Basking in warm sunshine,

Or seeing good friends

For weeks now, since you left.

Where did the feeling come from?

Why did it come?

I think the dream in which you beamed me love

Helped me find a center, a place of peace,

Showed me that while we’re in different places

We’re still connected,

That love goes on, and always will.

I felt happy when I awoke,

Richer in love, replenished, blessed.



New Year’s Eve December 31 2008

I’m watching “Live from Lincoln Center”:

Interview with Loren Maazel.

Maestro Maazel observes, about retiring,

“Life is all about Beginnings and Endings.”

This New Year’s Eve marks the end --

The last hours

Of the last year we shared.

And it signals the beginning –

The first moments

Of what I will be this next time “when I grow up”--

My graduation from your school of love,

My soul’s moment to unfurl and soar.

Endings and Beginnings

Graduating October 24 2010


I sat in church this morning – the church I’d felt I had to leave

To fully live within my changing life.

I haven’t been there for a bit.

Both the ministers are leaving.

This was their last day

Before they move along on their respective paths

To find whatever’s next.

I sat among my old church family,

The teardrops flowing.

I hate good-byes!

It was like a graduation – an important ending --

Doors closing so we can’t turn backwards.

Once a door shuts, there’s no choice but to go on,

To find an open one

Where beckons new unfolding,

Shepherding us closer yet to Love and Light,

Bringing greater joy and satisfaction.

Like new graduates, we’ve done the course,

Learned the lessons,

Received diplomas.

No matter how it’s felt, we’ve found success.

We exit, wandering scholars in this course called “life.”

Reflection

Today reminded me of other “graduations” – not the academic ones that have added worldly initials after my name, but the ones whose hard lessons have solidified for me essential new insights on the way to discovering what life is really about – learning all the different ways in which my ego is an obstacle to joy, an illusion obstructing the Truth of infinite life and love. From entering the convent at 16, through being kicked out at 19, learning to live in a different country, deciding to return to my homeland, getting married, becoming a mother, developing a professional career, losing my job, becoming ill, having my daughter leave the nest, leaving my next job and my marriage simultaneously, becoming a homeopath, living and then losing my partnership with Ellen, and now, starting a new relationship, shifting into new communities, and studying for yet another professional role – each beginning and each ending has brought new challenges, new joys, new sorrows, new insights, and, finally, new endings and beginnings. Beginnings and endings seem essential aspects of this earthly life, which can be seen as a series of learning opportunities. At each one, I feel sadness, then curiosity and excitement, and finally the joy of discovering my new place and new ways of being. May everyone who shared today participate in these joyful outcomes as they leave behind what has been.

I wrote the following poem at the ending/ beginning that occurred almost two years ago, after Ellen had died, and I was submerged in deep mourning. It was another difficult moment of graduation.

New Year’s Eve December 31 2008

I’m watching “Live from Lincoln Center”:

They’re interviewing Loren Maazel.

Maestro Maazel observes, about his retirement,

“Life is all about Beginnings and Endings.”

This New Year’s Eve marks the end --

The last hours

Of the last year I shared with Ellen.

And it signals a beginning –

The first moments

Of what I will be this next time “when I grow up”--

My graduation from a course in love, with Ellen as my teacher,

Ushers in my soul’s time now to unfurl and soar, alone.

Late Evening

Late Evening October 21 2010


The sun long gone,

I look outside in pale moon glow,

Cool and clear this autumn eve.

My mind is quiet, lids begin to sag,

The dogs are snoozing at my feet.

I reflect upon this day.

From morning’s struggle to awake,

It blasted off, sweeping me along, entrained

In its breathless rhythm of events –

Meeting, erranding, phoning, working, eating, smiling love.

I feel glad that now,

My breathing slowed to match the gentle canine snores,

I can pause to be, to smile, to pray, to thank –

To feel the joy of living on this splendid earth

And vibrate to the pulse of loving in the great Divine.

Reflection

All of life is vibration – pulsing, moving, changing, harmonizing or maybe clashing. I saw a documentary the other evening, and have been processing it since then. It discussed the role of language in our perceptions of reality. Our Indo- European languages sit atop nouns and their relation to other nouns – people, places, things. Other languages, such as those of some Native Americans express the actions, states, and layers of experiencing. In these languages, the constant multi-dimensional movement of existence stands foremost. Instead of person, time and space, these languages express many other dimensions such as agency, relationship, sequence, rhythms, patterns. They mainly use verbs, juxtaposing and linking them through grammar

. As I was watching the video, I was contemplating the still life of carefully arranged and balanced books arranged on the shelves above the television set. It was an exquisite composition of delicately chosen objects. I was trying to envision not the objects themselves but their whirling molecules, influenced by all those who had made, read, possessed, or moved them at any time and constantly interchanging, repulsing, and merging with each other. It presented a real challenge, because my mind is conditioned -- by my acculturation into an Indo-European language -- to see stasis and objective reality . Both nouns and verbs, of course, possess validity. They just present opposing ways of experiencing life.

 In writing this poem, I tried to “verb” as much as possible – to create an impression, to the extent that I could -- of the perpetual motion that we and our surroundings represent at a non-physical level of existence – the soul-realm.

Feral Moment

Autumn Night October 15 2010



Who Who Who WHO WHO who WHO!!!

I own the night!

Wake up and listen.

Feel your feral self –

That wild sense of domination or of fear.

Through the still dark air

I call out – clear clarion of nature --

Beckoning to your untamed self –

Come reclaim your unity with all.


Reflection:

At 2 am, the barred owl called, its voice resounding from all directions. I bolted up, wondering what it was. So loud and clear, could it possibly be an owl? The dog leapt out of bed, and started barking wildly, demanding to go outside. Once out there, in sentinel pose, she barked unceasingly, no longer aware of me trying to shush her lest she wake the neighbors. Bred of 3,000 years of human companionship, she had suddenly become a wild canid, all senses tuned to the call of nature, participating fully in the wild, within her fenced back yard. A thrill ran through my veins as I too felt the wonder of this disembodied voice commanding my awakening. Will the Angel Gabriel’s horn at the end of time feel so electrifying?

La Danse

La Danse August 28 2010


We've become the heartbeat of the universe.

The rhythm’s regular and strong.

The drums and fiddles carry on

As dancers crowd the floor, moving

Swiftly to the pulse– dipping, gliding, springing –

We’re all entranced together,

Our bodies driven, minds cocooned, hearts enlaced.

We’ve become as one –

A single multi-headed millipede --

Swirling, passionate, conjoined.



Reflection

Last night, we enjoyed an exhilarating evening of Cajun music, played by masters. Not only was the performance enthralling, the room was filled with swirling dancers who two-stepped giddily, number after number. It was a hypnotic scene, a form of collective trance, a time of transcendence. Great music, of whatever kind, can do that for us – transport us beyond our gravity-dependent, normally sluggish relationship with the earth to an experience of utter unity with all. I had spent two weeks once, many years ago, on a music tour in which the principal musician had also participated. We had liked each other, enjoyed each other. We had not stayed in touch. It was fascinating last night, 35 years later, to see this person again, to see reflected in him the weight of those years on my own being.

Surrender

Surrender August 25 2010


Surrender, giving up,

Knowing that I can’t succeed,

Eating “ ‘Umble Pie.”

I’ve tried and tried and tried again

To be good – to seek perfection.

I’ve always thought I had to do it all myself,

To make everything work smoothly.

But then the moment’s come

When I’ve known it’s more than I can do.

If I stop the struggle, giving up.

Will I despair, thinking that’s the end?

If so, it won’t work either.

I’ll be overcome by grace, by help, and love.

I’ll be all right.

Why did I struggle so? Why have I fought again and then again?

When will I learn that surrendering my pride --accepting help--

Brings true reward? – That it’s the way my life’s supposed to be?



REFLECTION

I’m still a novice at humility, obviously. Where did I get that idea, that everything is up to me? Is it the legacy of being a conscientious oldest daughter with a sick mother? It’s so easy for me to believe I have to do everything better, faster, and smarter than anyone else. It’s like a mirage in the dessert – totally convincing that it’s real until the moment comes to try to drink from the non-existent oasis. It's a false premise. 

When I subscribe to that illusion of total responsibility for doing things perfectly,  life becomes a struggle. Surrendering this foolish image of myself and accepting that help is always at hand if I just reach out and request it brings such joy and relief. Just because I put things on my own to-do list doesn’t mean there’s any sense to judging myself against that list.

I can think of surrender as groveling in shame because I couldn’t do everything perfectly and on time according to my self-imposed expectations. Within this paradigm, I will be miserable. Or I can conceive of it as joyful acceptance – letting go into the loving help of God, which will bring joy and serenity. Which path do I choose today? And today? And today? -- The choice is always there to make, right now.

Moments

Living in the Moment Aug 23 2010


Each moment brings its own surprises –

Something lost that renders all impossible,

The smile of a friend expressing love,

Someone being where I didn’t plan for him,

A kind gesture offering solace, source of grace,

A mood that dashes hope and happiness and feels like abandonment,

A child’s joyful story-sharing.



I walk along the shore of life --

The beach where memories collect--

Sombered by this flotsam of my expectations of today –

Shattered trash or shiny little treasures strewn about the sands and rocks by

Ever restless minutes -- rushing, waning, changing what they bring and what they take.

The next may bring a new elation --

I leave my expectations open, ready once again to soar.

Reflection

The feelings elicited by the passing moments resemble restless, scudding clouds racing across a clear, sparking sky. An unanticipated distraction means my calendar has disappeared and can’t be found anywhere. I feel lost without knowing what appointments and commitments I’ve made. But then, just seconds later, my day is graced by the love of someone close – a momentary burst of glory, equally unexpected. I go to the DMV office to replace my missing driver’s license, only to find a standing room only crowd with a predicted four hour waiting time when the office will close in three hours. But then my disappointment is countered by a kind official providing me with the information I will need to replace the license online without having to come back and wait another day. A long-anticipated meeting to plan a ceremony produces lingering anxiety and tension, leading to the chance for deeper love and understanding. A day passes like that, intermingling unexpected moments of joy and disappointment. It reminds me of the fascinating mix of objects, covered in left-over foam and sand or interlaced with seaweed and string, that a stroll along the beach provides for careful examination – the yield changing with every tide as the mixture of unexpected experiences morphs with each day and hour. Life is never dull!

Vacation Trip

Re-entry August 23 2010


We travel up, away, into new orbits, new excitement.

Seeing endless promise, new perspectives --

Wonderfully exciting, satisfying,

Like astronauts, we walk in space,

Freed from gravity of duty, schedules, daily chores.

But re-entry looms.

We draw close, approaching splash down,

Then, relinquishing adventure’s quest,

Take back our daily cares,

Re-inhabiting our old small tasks and spaces,

We are, however, changed, enlarged,

Forever liberated just a little ,

Having seen and felt infinity.



Reflection:

Summer is a time to travel, to expand, to rest and feel free. On vacation trips, we try on different realms of life as if traveling to outer galaxies. Nancy and I just returned from a trip to visit family, and discovered an opportunity, in Huntsville, AL, to see a variety of actual space shuttles and to learn about the astronauts’ experiences. The films taken from the Hubble and the spacecraft that traveled to service it were awe-inspiring – a true glimpse of an apparently infinite universe. What a different scale from our normal earthbound perspective! And yet, like the astronauts, though experiencing a few days without the weight of daily schedules and concerns, we soon found ourselves touching down back at home, needing to face again the too-long to-do lists that we’d abandoned for a few days. It’s good to get a reminder occasionally that weightlessness exists, and to learn again to just be, without constantly having to perform and produce.

Cloud Thoughts

Cloud Thoughts July 29 2010


Sky blue pink –

Invented color from a childhood game.

I drive home now under sky blue pink –

The clouds fantastic roads and windows –

Paths for spirits traveling,

Coming here or leaving.

You sit, a coast away,

Keeping vigil in an ICU, your dear friend about to leave.

I wonder if the paths I see are opening for her,

As she takes a bit of you along

On her voyage into Love beyond.



Reflection

Each of us loses someone dear occasionally. But most of the time, the experience is rare enough for each individual that we don’t think so much about the enormous traffic passing constantly between the physical and spiritual realms -- not only people entering or leaving bodies, but also those, both in body and in spirit, who are dreaming, praying, loving, or remembering.

We no longer see with physical eyes those who have left their bodies – as if we were separated from each other by clouds. But clouds only appear solid. In fact, they are airy, porous, immaterial; our impression of them is no more than an illusion.

Seeing a beautiful, colorful sky rich with cloud shapes, as I think about the act of keeping vigil with a loved one nearing her passing, I'm reminded how close the physical and spiritual realms really are. We live a little bit on both sides of the cloud curtain – embodied, absorbed in physical reality, and also imbued with spirit love, united with our loved ones everywhere.

New York Interlude

A New York Visit June 30 - July 4 2010


Compulsive Over-liver? 7/1/2010

I return again to New York City,

As if returning to a well for water.

The City fills all my perceptive powers; It's a pinnacle experience.

Each rushing moment

Teems with sights and sounds,

With tastes, smells, movements,

And also many feelings –

Tenderness, revulsion, raucous laughter, gentle smiles –

Tapestry of all things unexpected.

I sink into this sea of senses, this compelling other world,

Holding breath until I once again come up

To find the peace of spirit’s realm.



Philharmonic Patriotic Concert July 2 2010

A patriotic concert for the Fourth, though not on the Fourth –

Tunes I’ve heard too often and have learned to overlook –

Sousa marches, historic war songs, anthems –

Melodies I’ve heard at picnics and parades, played all off key,

Amateur discordance gathering on the notes like barnacles –

The music suddenly returns to life, delighting all.

The Maestro wields a magic wand –

Conjures up new sound, new soul.

The audience claps and stamps to show delight.

We stand and roar our thanks,

Then leave, smiling and chatting – new found friends

Who’ve shared a magic moment and together carry forth new memories.



Throngs July 3 2010

A holiday Saturday at the Met –

The halls are full, the lines are long,

I wait to step up closer to the art, as others stand and look.

There are throngs of us – And also throngs of them:

The ones who posed, who painted, who wielded tongs and chisels,

And also  those who owned each platter, gem, and weapon –

And those who cleaned and dusted them as well.

They’ve all left energy within the objects ranked together now,

Hung on walls or ordered in glass cases.

Their souls are still imprinted on the statues, mummies, bas reliefs, and sacramental objects.

The entire world is here -- from antiquity to now, across the globe.

How do we mortals find room to roam among them all?



Pilgrimage to Beauty July 3 2010

I’m one of many pilgrims from across the earth.

We speak in many tongues,

Our Babel a vast symphony of humanness.

We follow crisscrossed paths to see exhibits –

Young and old, hale and lame,

Our measured- out museum steps an indoor pilgrimage to Beauty’s shrine.



Tableau Vivant July 3 2010

She sits on a wooden crate, the slim tree shading her –

A city tree, surrounded by its iron fence.

Her face is hidden by the dark blue baseball cap.

My eye drifts from her giant bosom down her dark-skinned legs, to flip flops on her shapeless feet.

Seated primly next to her – one on either side –

Two poodles listen raptly to her animated monologue --

She and they alone share a tiny world

Though people pass them constantly.

They’re beautiful -- faithful friends, tableau vivant of love.



REFLECTION

Needing respite from the endless noise, dust, and inconvenience of remodeling, I flew to New York for a few days. The holiday weekend was coming up, and I was feeling burned out, scattered, and a bit lonesome.

On a summer holiday weekend, large numbers of city people flee to the country. The city is calmer than usual, except in tourist spots like the Metropolitan Museum, which is, in contrast to the streets and subways, bursting with humanity. These days, New York tourists are more likely to be from Seoul or Siam, Finland or Yugoslavia than from Kansas or Saskatchewan. The Metropolitan crowd was multi-hued, multi-cultural, multi-lingual – a microcosm of the world.

I found myself musing about why New York has become my favorite place to find renewal. It’s a place where I’m blessed to have dear friends. It’s also a place to experience contrasts, to know the euphoria of adrenaline, to stretch my definition of reality, to encounter surprise and drama, to find an enormous variety of sensory experiences and human encounters. Each meal is surprising, whether it be a Nathan’s hot dog or an exquisitely prepared sampler of Vietnamese delicacies. In a great city at the level of New York, the experience of being human is deepened – intensified and mirrored in countless ways. It’s absorbing and edgy, requiring intense, aware response at all moments. One can’t even cross a street distractedly, and survive.

I’ll return home tomorrow with my sensory meters reset, happy to step back again into daily routine, to find quiet moments to fulfill responsibilities, and to enjoy deeply the opportunity to love and be loved by those close to me. My New York moments of intense experiences will remain, though, the memory of their pungent flavors and distinctive sights and sounds continuing to provide the perspective needed to appreciate the quotidian.

Cooking Beans

Cooking Beans June 19 2010


The humble daily tasks --

I shun them often.

They take up time –they make me stop and wait.

I smell the snap beans steaming as I sit and write.

Snap. Snap. Patiently I broke both ends of all the beans, and put them in the pot to cook –

A measured job that took the time it took

And let me rest and know the boundless nature of the present –

Unexpected gift from summer’s bounty.



Reflection

Cleaning, cooking, caring for people and humble objects. I’ve always been impatient with these tasks. They weren’t stimulating, had no glory attached. I clung to my ambitions, to my love for feeling special and powerful. These were jobs for humble people – jobs that needed doing over and over, leaving no mark on history. I longed to do the impressive things!

Somehow, though, my passage through the loss of the person closest to me, my partner Ellen, opened my spirit to the beauty and resonance of those humble tasks. From her I learned that my time on earth is a precious treasure, and that the rewards come from being fully present to the physical impressions and the present moments that wash over me – a cascade of sensory wealth through which I can know the Creator through the created. In performing these lowly tasks to perfection, I both receive and express love. What other meaning is there to Heaven than loving, being loved, and experiencing the Divine? I am grateful for that mess of snap beans and for all of summer’s gifts.

I Love You

I Love You May 29 2010


Three little words – I love you! I love you! I love you!

They are the most important words – no need to improvise, create.

They can’t be said too often,

And each time they’re said, they’re new – never repeating what was said before.

They reflect the feeling of this moment –

I love your crinkly smile, your ready wit, the sparkle in your eyes,

Your gentleness and kindness, the beauty of your soul…

I love you in an endless wealth of ways –

Always newly known and deeply felt.

I love you! I love you! I love you! -- now, again, forever.



Reflection

Love is such a joy! Each person -- each creature-- is a spark of God – reflecting in ways we can appreciate different aspects of the infinite Creator. I can think of no better way to spend a day than to revel repeatedly in the joy of loving, and – like a carillon chime – to peal forth our joy in those three important words – I love you!

Eden

Eden May 29 2010


And God cast them from the Garden.

They lost God’s love.

Losing love – the hardest hurt,

The truest Hell.

Loveless, babies wither, grownups weep.

Without love, I live in turmoil --

Sleep deprived, feeling ill, hating others and myself, tired, lifeless.

Deprived of love, I shrivel like a tender flower in a drought –

Dried up, wrinkled, gray, before I die my many deaths.

I seek out your love, my darling – heliotropic -- drawn by you:

your smile, the pleasure in your eyes,

Your gentle voice, your soothing hands,

Your compelling spirit force.

You nourish and revitalize my soul – your love my nectar.

In trust, I open up, bloom, let myself be tender, give to you the power to hurt or heal.

I learn the might of love to beautify or trample

And give my heart to you withal – witness to your perfect God-love splendor.



Reflection

Building a relationship is definitely not for the faint of heart. The reward is bliss, a more transcendent connection with God, who is love. The challenge is to rid my self ( my ego) of fear – to trust, to be willing to feel hurt, and to continue trusting and loving, knowing that any perceived lack of love is a delusion. God cannot not love. God IS love. Love draws us to each other, and steadily awaits our enlightenment, our acceptance, our understanding, and our willingness to bask in and transmit its awesome light. We are God’s gift to each other. I am grateful beyond words for this gift of ever-flowing love.

Memories of Place

Memories of Place May 25 2010


A beloved house where once we lived--

Its trees, its drive,

Its empty rooms with traces still of long gone memories –

Ghostly wisps of past hours wafting through.

We drive up, we look, we feel the pain of loving still this place.

We walk again the ground, neglected now,

Where once our spirit dwelt in peace and love,

Where once our family ran and played and laughed and argued,

Where once we planted, built, and prayed.

We are spirits from another plane – from timeless, formless space,

Yet our molecules have sunk deep roots into the earth where we have lived and loved,

Entwining heart and body with that soil, that grass, the fiber of that place.

We leave behind so many threads of love – elastic – binding us though we may stretch them thin.

It’s thus that we leave heartprints on the earth wherever we have been,

And feel the earthprints on our souls.



Reflection:

Today I accompanied a friend who was revisiting a home she loved and had left behind. My friend’s attachment to this place was still palpable, years after she had left. Obviously a portion of her spirit dwelt still within that space, upon that ground.

Today I had also learned that the people who had bought the house I had just left were starting to tear out the part of that place I loved the most – cutting down trees and eradicating the wild areas to plant a lawn.

These conjoined experiences, on the same day, have made me go back in spirit to the different places I have loved on the earth and to which I have felt bonded over the decades of my life – from the fields, streams, and Atlantic water of Padanaram, where I spent an important portion of my childhood; to the rolling hills and brushy woods of northern Rhode Island, where I lived for three years as a nun; to the hardpan soil and mine-pocked trails of Old Mines, Missouri, where I wandered in the woods and scratched tiny garden patches into pure clay; to the bracing, cool Pacific breeze and restless ripples of San Francisco Bay; to the majestic pine and hardwood forests of the North Carolina Piedmont – the place I now live. My heart ‘s memory remains entwined with the earth, the air, the trees and grass of each of these earthly homes. When I return to them, I feel their unique magnetic pull signaling my ongoing relationship to each place, even after I have moved away.

As we live longer, we understand better our unity with every person and every place. With every love, we exchange elements of ourself with the beloved. In so doing, we grow ever larger, ever more connected; We ARE more.

Nurture

Nurture May 9 2010

People pause today to sing their mother’s praises –

How she held them, fed them, watched them,

How they learned to love from her,

How she led them gently into earth’s delights.


They’re the fortunate.


Some babies have to scrape for love.

They find it in the hearts of other women,

Surviving, love-starved, as do street kids seeking scraps of food.

As I join in celebrating mothers on this yearly day,

I pray for those whose moms are ill, or dead, or otherwise inapt

To give their children mother love.

I pray that God will give to all his orphaned ones

The love and nurturing they need to learn their beauty,

Trust their worth,

Know their glorious souls, and find deep joy while in this life.

Young or old, we all need mothering.

Blessed are those who nurture others – they shall shine as stars forever.


Reflection

It’s Mother’s Day. Today, I feel separated from the general sentimentality. I realize, again,  that I can’t celebrate my mother’s nurturing care. She was disappointed in me. She was  also ill and depressed. She had no empathy, nor even common sense for caring for a baby. I felt alone and abandoned, from birth. I felt defective, unworthy, unacceptable.

This start has affected my whole life. It created the framework within which I have struggled to accept myself, to enjoy being who I am. My grandmother, my teachers (nuns teaching in Catholic schools), an older spinster who worked humbly as a priests' housekeeper, and the librarian in the small town library where I grew up were my adult friends and supporters. I confided in them, and knew, from their welcome and their support, that I was potentially lovable. They gave me hope. By default, they played the role of surrogate mothers, and I honor their memories today and express my gratitude for the love they brought into my life. 

 I’m not alone in this situation. Many other people’s mental and emotional stability through childhood was preserved by the love of neighbors, teachers, aunts or uncles, grandparents – other grownups who were not our biological mothers, and  who provided real  love -- essential spiritual and emotional nourishment for a child's spirits. On Mother’s Day, it seems appropriate to love and appreciate, along with our mothers, those other adults whose affection helped us to develop a greater reservoir of love to share when we would be grown up. 

. This day should really be called “Raised by a Village Day.”

Memories

Spirit Places April 26 2010



Bare shined floors, stripped now of rugs,

Purified of foot prints, cleared of scuff marks –

Pristine.

Windows washed and clear,

Rooms now unencumbered – no furniture, no projects

That lie about unfinished – eternal paper clutter.

No remaining signs of our four years of living there –

Now a fallow house, awaiting its new life –

My home no more.


Silenced now the shrill joyous cries of children

Racing up the walk to Grandma’s house,

The sound of bouncing balls and happy laughs --

They faintly echo in my heart amid the emptiness.



I speak and hear reverberations -- void. .

I open the toy closet – bare.

I enter our offices and bedroom – blank,

Though I feel in each room its ghostly memories –

Faint shadows of what happened there for us.


Bookshelves -- now just empty wooden cubes – are yawning shadow boxes.

With no clothes, the closets are stripped down to cabinets and rods –

Reminding me of our excitement when we built just what we wanted,

Deciding it was worth it, hang the cost.


The big surprise was when I bade farewell to my dear friends, my trees.

I loved the woods around that house – the trees and wildflowers were my friends.

My spirit frolicked with the birds and squirrels, trembled with the wind- blown leaves.

It was my little patch of Eden, where my soul found rest and joy.



Today I said goodbye,

I laid a crystal underneath the porch --

Giving thanks

For good memories and sad, good moments and hard – the life the house embraced for us.


It’s time to move forward, to give back, to mark the present,

To fully be in peace and love while taking leave.

A raucous crow, calling in the woods, tells me goodbye. I walk away.


Reflection:


It was wonderful to see that others really wanted our fabulous house. It sold quickly – in a few days. I’m happy to know that the buyers are excited about living in the house. I feel satisfaction in having been a good steward of a beautiful place, caring lovingly for its needs and putting good energy into it.

As the closing approaches, I felt drawn to visit the house a last time, walk through it, create a final memory of it as it awaits its next family. It’s my home now only in remembrance. It was time to release it, to say goodbye, to extend good wishes to the people destined to live there next as they create their own recollections of growing, loving, creating a home within its walls. Their recollections will overlay ours, as ours have overlain those of the family that built it and grew up in it before us. With passing years, the house grows richer in loving energy and acquires the patina of respectful care and use. It has been a home before and will be one soon again, though now, in waiting, it’s just an empty house.

I take my times there with me, packed into memory. I move through life, collecting more and more recollections. Happily they take up no space and weigh nothing!

Moving Day

Moving Day April 24 2010


A day of moving—

Pick this up, move it there,

Push this box along the hallway –

Can’t pick it up -- too heavy!

Walk up and down, back and forth,

For miles just inside the house

Till feet cry out in anguish.

The rooms grow cold, and echo oddly

As one by one they’re emptied out.

They’ve absorbed and resonated with our years

Of living, loving, weeping, feasting.

Now, one by one they revert to how they were when we first entered –

Empty, square, waiting.

On the other end, my stuff, filled with all my hopes,

Finds right places in a new house --

Starts shaping new days, new years, new life.

I sit, unfamiliar, in this new home,

Aching -- even as I pulse with hope.


Reflection

This day responds to the fulfillment of hope and purpose. One house sold, another bought; one left behind, another taken up; one leave taking, another exciting beginning We move on in our lives as circumstances change, for both better and worse. Both fatigue and excitement mark these transitions, regret dancing with appreciation, body aches with resurgent energy. Such is life.

Remodeling

Remodeling April 20 2010


Entropy. A fact of life.

Things fall apart – ongoing dissolution,

Little piece by little piece.

Maintaining is an ever-present task of life on earth --

Attention, form of  meditation.

Molecules recycle, travel, transform ,dissociate.

Inanimate organism, a house needs updates,

Renewal – surgery, in fact –

Replumb, rewire, refresh, repaint, repair, replace.

Then, when all is righted,

It can be a place of peace -- become my home --

Embracing me within its walls and doors.



Reflection

The remodeling has begun on the house I've just moved into.  This house was once loved, then was long neglected and exploited, with no return of energy or attention. All the surface items needed replacing, to bring it back to a state of beauty and pride rather than a constant headache with things broken and useless. The heating and cooling systems are being replaced today, as well as the thermostat so that we can control the inside temperature.  The contractors are also replacing the ducts that no longer bring warm or cool air to various rooms. Also today, I spent time selecting faucets, toilets, and a shower, as well as ceiling fans, light fixtures, and appliances. For the next couple of months dust will fly as we polish the house back to pristine loveliness. This is one way to make a house a home in a hurry!

Saying Goodbye

Saying Goodbye April 19 2010


A house – a home, a friend, a shelter,

A place alive with memories and molecules and stories,

Where pieces of all those who’ve lived there

Lie embedded.

On leaving, I am like a tree uprooted.

I've moved away,

Though roots and tendrils – tenacious – stay behind;

My  roots the love  poured forth within that house –

Along with sorrows, joys, laughter, pain – the memories of life.

When I go back to my now former house the day the furniture is moved,

I’ll say good bye –

Take leave of that of me that stays behind,

And pack up tenderly my bag of memories –

To store them -- treasures to unwrap and savor

When times are right, some day.



REFLECTION:

This Saturday, I’ll know if the house is truly sold. At that point, I’ll empty it of my remaining possessions, and leave it for good. It’s been “Grandmas’ House” since we moved here four years ago – the only grandmas’ house that the kids remember. In this house, we’ve welcomed friends, enjoyed many happy holidays, meals, parties, and tranquil times with family and with each other. Ellen and I both suffered serious illnesses there, and Ellen, as she had predicted and resolved, did indeed “leave feet first.” In fact, as her body was being removed by the mortician, I made sure he turned her in the right direction so her feet left first.

I’ll go back to the empty house the day after the move, to bid it “good-bye.” It’s the last place that Ellen and I lived together, and moving on requires that I firmly put those memories d in a trunk stored in the attic of my memory – and turn to inhabit fully the next wonderful chapter of my life.

I will weep as I bid the house “goodbye,” and visit for the last time the place where our cat, Merlin’s, ashes still fertilize the front garden as his spirit watches over the house.

I’ll plant a crystal in a secret place outside the house – a symbol of my willingness to pass the house on to its new owners, and to wish them deep happiness as they enjoy good lives within its walls – a symbol, likewise, of my enduring appreciation for the house’s embrace while we lived there.

I’ll turn away, deeply grateful for the blessings that my new life, new relationship, and new home have already bestowed on me. A chapter in my life will end at that moment, as another begins. My life – as I suppose all lives do – has seemed to have distinct chapters, each filled with suspense, mystery, delight, and discovery. I am truly blessed, as a beloved child of the Universe. And I give thanks.

Dog Eyes

Dog Eyes April 10 2010


Large, dark brown, intense eyes

Bore deep into my soul.

They radiate robust emotions –

Desire, disappointment, fierce devotion –

They pierce my heart.

I know the soul behind them’s present wholly,

Loving fully.

I’m grateful,

Knowing I am loved so dearly

Just for being me,

A human, spark of God,

Bathed in God’s own love

Shining deep in dog eyes.

Reflection

Deva, my six year old Maltese, looks at me with soulful, dark, black-rimmed eyes – they laugh or they reproach, they incite to play, or they ache with the desire to communicate a desperate longing for something. “If only I could talk,” they seem to shout. She often actually tries to talk, obliging me to explain to people that “she’s not growling, she’s telling you…”

The hardest times to look into her eyes are those occasions when I have to tell her I’m leaving for the moment, and will be back later, or tomorrow, or next week. Suddenly, those dark pools are suffused with disappointment. Her ears droop, her head drops, her tail sags, and those eyes reproach me vividly, proclaiming her deep disappointment. I feel like a real lowlife – how can I bear to disappoint so deeply a creature filled only with love?

The thing about being loved by a dog or a small child is the completeness of that love. They hold nothing back, impose no conditions. They overflow spontaneously with joyous excitement each time I appear. I feel awed and deeply blessed to experience such profound affection, freely given, asking nothing in return. This is God’s love for me as for each of his creatures – limitless and endlessly uplifting.

Spring Rain

Spring Rain April 9 2010


Gentle raindrop kisses --

Spring rain –

Wet, chilly droplets startle heated torpor.

The metallic scent of dust dissolving

Greets my nostrils,

Announcing that the cleansing will begin;

Pollen’s banished

From the yellow air and from the objects

That it coats with gold.

We welcome nature’s purifying bath

That clarifies as it restores.



Reflection:

That smell produced by warm rain hitting dust –it’s a summer fragrance. I haven’t smelled it in months, but yesterday’s brief, blustery rain refreshed it in my memory. It bears a promise of discharge – humid heat chased by colder, stormy air – a relief from mugginess. In this case, after breathing clouds of pollen for days, I also looked forward to inhaling clear air. We forget the cleansing ministry of rain when it happens all the time. But after a dusty week or longer, we yearn for clean – for the benefits of nature’s housekeeping.