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.

Moving House

Fallout April 8 2010


After moving house,

Like Dorothy who landed, dazed, in Munchkin Land,

I feel blown into a different world.

Nothing’s where I thought it was.

I pick up things, and can’t remember where I put them down

A second later.

The list of things we must find-- now! -- grows ever longer –

My circuits are on overload,

Thoughts splashing over in my brain as if it were a basin

When the tap has been let run too long.

I look forward to the day when I can feel settled once again,

Finding the golden road that will bring balance

In a new place, a new life, a new beginning,



Reflection:

Moving house is one measure of attachment vs. detachment. Ideally, I would, like a Buddhist monk, need only my saffron robe and begging bowl. I would be detached from the things of this world. I would not be spending time, energy, money, and attention fussing with where things are, how they should look or feel, and how to deal with them. The process of moving is an excellent gauge of how attached one still is to the things of this world. Storage and closet space become rare and priceless. I’ve just spent two months “downsizing,” resolutely clearing out and donating or throwing away half of the contents of every shelf, closet, drawer, and box in my house. In my new house, half the size of the old one, I see I need to do the same thing again – get rid of half of what’s left. Interestingly, it’s not a painful thought – just a hassle. But I learned, in the process of doing it the first time that I need the support of someone else’s energy and dispassionate eye to discard objects without remembering, for each one, the way I acquired it and what it has meant in my life. I know it’s only “stuff.” I remember from the days after Ellen died how utterly useless “stuff” is in the context of eternity, rather than earthly life. But I guess attachment to the “stuff” of this world is pretty hard to downsize – it’s not just the objects that have to go through that process. I am grateful for the opportunity to liberate many material items to become blessings in the lives of others.

Pollen

Pollen April 7 2010


Each year it happens.

One day, we wake up to a sulphur-colored world.

The air is thick and golden;

Midas’ touch has transformed every

Car, every porch and deck, every drive and road,

Gilding every horizontal surface.

Outdoors a minute, we too are painted,

Dusted equally, transformed with radiant mustard hue.

The next rain will break the spell,

Restoring all to normal color – greens and pinks and browns.

For a short time, though, we can feel

Blessed with magic dust –

Awed by earth’s dedicated, fertile drive to reproduce her trees,

To spread life’s glory over all.



Reflection:

I’ve never seen such thick pollen as since I moved to the North Carolina Piedmont region. It truly transforms everything overnight, a deluge of dust lasting for one to two weeks, leading to the need for thorough washing. My inclination, after amazement has set in, has been to think – “Ugh! What a mess! All the extra work I’ll have to do to clean up!”

But it’s also possible, as with most situations, to view the positive side. In this case, the proliferation of sheer reproductive life force is astounding, spreading over everything, putting me in mind of the infinity of God’s blessings and love for all creation. Living gold dust is an awesome symbol for divine love. I consciously choose to feel the joy and happiness raining down, covering me and everybody else, supporting us, blessing us, giving us the love we need for sustenance. Thank you, God!

Giving up the Old

The Wedding Dress April 6 2010


It’s yellowed satin shows the years;

My mother made it – her masterpiece –

The dress for her oldest daughter’s wedding.

I felt attached, thinking of her love, her hand, her sweat and knowledge

Embodied in a swath of fabric, zipper, lace.

In fact, it also spoke her hope, her happiness

That her lesbian daughter finally saw the light --

Was getting married, would live a “normal” life.



I’ve kept this dress for all those years – 45!

I left the marriage, disillusioned, tired, feeling sick, ten years before.

Why did I keep the dress, all through a second marriage, into widowhood?

Interesting question!

I suppose I kept it for its affirmation that I, the misfit, also had my ray of sun,

My moment of recognition, my badge of womanly success.

I was not so totally a failure,

I who’d never dated, never had a boyfriend, saw myself a despised “Old Maid.”

The dress bespoke success, but also failure.


If a lesbian marries and pretends that she is straight, that doesn’t make it so.

She’s still a square peg trying to fit, and doesn’t.

The dress remained, yellowing reminder of unfilled hopes of change.

Now that I have learned to be glad who I am, to know God loved me when he made me thus,

To live fully in the life I’m given, I can now, an old woman, open up my hand and mind --

Let go the dress, let it find the next young bride.



Reflection

I’m happily a lesbian now. I feel I’ve come home, that I belong, that there are others like me in the world – I’m not alone, not a misfit. It was a long time before I could finally let go, open up, see and accept what was so obvious. I was age 58 when this happened! I’d been married, unhappily, for 33 years – years spent wondering what was wrong with me. Why did I not share interests with other wives? Why did I feel like such an alien when I was with them? I had raised my daughter, carried out a successful professional career. But I was sad, depressed, and lonely. I really thought that I was destined to feel like an eternal outsider.

My partner asked me the other day why I still had my wedding dress from so long ago. I had no answer. I had to think about the reason for a couple of days before I could see its meaning. It had nothing to do with the marriage itself, but with my sense of success on the day I married, not for love, but for acceptance in this world. I wept all the way up the aisle and during the ceremony. I so didn’t want to get married, so knew it wasn’t right for me. But I knew no viable alternative, and thus resigned myself to a life of weddedness.

People tell me often how lucky I am to have only discovered late that I am a lesbian. I missed the overt persecution of gays, and the repeated tragedies of the AIDS epidemic. This is true. What no one realizes however, is that especially when closeted, being a gay person is difficult and alienating. One can’t totally live a lie, can’t successfully pretend all one’s life to be something one is not, no matter how demanding society becomes.

I packed the wedding dress today to be given to a consignment shop to be sold for charity. I feel I have liberated myself. I am very happy now in a lesbian life and lesbian relationship. I no longer need to hang on to the symbol of my earlier success in appearing to be something I was not, and never will be. I feel lighter in this life.

April Evening

Tender Moments April 5 2010


After a family dinner,

We sit outdoors at dusk,

Swinging back and forth,

Sweet six year old between us,

Sharing hugs,

Talking about this and that,

Knowing peace profound as velvet night,

Sipping love’s sweet nectar as if hummingbirds.



Reflection

Family times can be stressful. They can also be very sweet and relaxing. I’m so thankful to have the good fortune to live a few short miles away from my daughter and her family – her husband and two delightful little boys, ages 3 and 6. Children need lots of loving adults in their lives. They soak up the attention and affection. I remember how important it was to me as a child to feel that love existed around me, not just within my home, but in the neighborhood – that I was nestled in the bosom of a network of relatives, neighbors, and friends. Now, as an older person, I can see how wonderful it is to be one of those nurturing “other” adults in the lives of special children and their parents. Tonight was a perfect April evening, the air velvety warm – a perfect time to sit under the stars and the silhouetted trees, just relaxing and enjoying the company of beloved others.

Easter thoughts

Easter Season April 2 2010


Lent. A time to give up,

Opening hands and heart,

Setting the old afloat

On spring’s fresh currents--

Wafted blessings.

I spent Lent sorting, packing,

Preparing for a move,

A new start, a new house,

A new chapter in my life,

A new love –

Emptying the old to welcome in the new,

Room by room, drawer by drawer,

Loosening the bonds of memory

Intertwined with fabric, wood, and objects from the past.

Setting free my spirit to step with joy into the new.



Holy Week, I moved.

Half the stuff I used to have,

Packed now into boxes,

Dislocated, shifted, invisible,

Baldly shorn, minus all attachments.

For a whole day, ten people toiled to load, to drive,

To unload all within a new space

Anonymous objects, jumbled into cardboard cubes,

Arduous, wearing, endless- seeming load to carry

On aching, sweating backs and shoulders.

A life is heavy, both with feeling and with bulk.

At day’s end, a new house is piled high in every room and corner –

There’s no way yet to live in it; inhabitation must be patient – wait.

Deep emptiness pervades the house vacated.

Spirit and joy have left the one, and not yet emerged into the other.

Love is on hiatus, lost within the swirling energies of motion and transition.



I waken to a new view – lovely trees welcome me to my new yard and neighborhood.

I survey the good things and the bad – the things that work within this house,

And the things that must change quickly in pursuit of comfort, beauty, function.

Many blessings promise hope –the love of groups of friends assembling here,

The hope of space just the right size for one,

The discovery of new communities.



Over this Lenten time, I have lived, loved, lost, given up, received back many-fold,

And am now ready for the joyous gaiety of Easter,

The return of love and peace and order--

Life blessing of a higher order,

Inspiring progress toward the peace of God,

The bliss of resurrection,

New life, new beginnings.