I choose to live today
Dressed in the clothes
Of who I am, discarding
The costumes designed
By others who have not
Met my spirit in true
Communication. I choose
To be the face I see
In the mirror undisguised
By the caricatures drawn
By those with intent
For power or hidden
Motives creating harm.
I choose to hold space
For those whose words show
They know a better way
Than what was then. I give
The room to grow into
What they know could be.
I choose to live
At peace with my soul
By living at peace
Today I walked my first labyrinth. Here in Winnipeg we have the Carol Shield’s labyrinth in memory of the author who has written many books and plays. The entrance is flanked by two large stone collages of quotes from her book.
As I walked along I noticed the leaf buds had bloomed into clusters of leaves. The mantra played through my head “Winter is over, the leaves have budded.” Not far along I saw crocuses beautiful even in their faded glory and pink buds beginning to unfurl.
How had I missed this? The last I remember really looking, the leaves were hidden in tight brown coverings just emerging from the branches. The thought struck me, in holding winter in my mind grieving a loss I could not change, I was missing the spring!
My thoughts turned to a poem I had remembered reading. In the meandering space of time, I was here in this moment. I took this thought out of the labyrinth. “Spring is here. Embrace the new growth.”
By David Wagner
Stand Still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made a place for you.
If you leave it, you may come again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
It is hard to see momentum
While standing still
Muscle tensing relaxing
Leaning into the start
Trusting in preparation
Belief your mantra
Arm extended ready
To catch the baton
When next it is
Your turn to run
LJAndres, April 27
Though the themes don’t match, this art piece and the imagery in this poem speak to me of possibility.
I am surrounded by a cloud of witnesses
Both pain and joy held in their memories
They come holding out the fragrance
Of strength and resilience,
Of compassion and inspiration,
They saw in me in the times
Our lives interlinked in the daily
Of living life in those moments that were
Their presence glow with an illumination
Lighting dark corners where ghosts
Once hid in silent threat to hope
They call inward leading my dreams
To the centre where the divine
Holds in gentle hands the seeds
Of dreams planted in me before
The storms ravaged my garden
Held through the years of disillusioned
Dreams the divine waited, held them safe
Until I was ready to receive them again
With reverence I carry them into
The garden where fallow ground
Stands ready to nurture new growth
Cleared and harrowed by these others
Witnesses of the life once lived
Two poems as my journey into the mandala labyrinth continues:
I have been given a gift,
unexpected and, surely not one I wanted
I have been given an island of time
A castaway from the sailing vessel
Of roles and expectations
To preform to fill the role
Defining my dreams for the future
Delight and joy of accomplishment’s
Satisfaction torn away
By violent waves of disbelief
That dream would find an end
Broken on the rocks
Of others’ expectations
Changed from those encountered
When signing on to crew
Safe passage on a lyrical sea
Here on these sands
I walk to the gentler rhythm
Of waves on a quieter sea
I cannot reach the other shore
Until a boat comes back for me
So I wait and taste the fruit
Sustaining me, new satisfaction
Dawning with each rising sun.
Within this island of time
The sun and silence have burned away
The should have beens, leaving
What matters, the essence of dreams:
The innocent love of children,
The warmth of caring friends,
Enough faith to sustain each step
And a heart that can reach to others.
Stop! Slow down!
I’ve only arrived at
This island of peace!
Walking this labyrinth
Of grief I found release.
Centred I began to know
Who I am beneath
The fears and shame
That held me bound,
That blocked my mind
And tore emotions.
This quiet waiting
Isn’t that what peace is?
Can’t I stay here
Protected from the winds
Outside my safe confinement?
You smile, remembering
My hurry to rush past
This time to push forward
Into trying once again
To meet the expectations of others.
The twists and turns of time’s
Labyrinth have quieted
That storm of loss.
I have founded contentment here,
Made peace with life
Secure in my choice
To live my belief by
Isolating from risk of others
Who set a different course.
I breath relief.
The storms have ended
I am safe in the centre
Safe in the knowing . . .
a puff of wind
And then another
The sail in the distance
Moves quickly toward
My refuge on these shores.
Am I ready?
Can I move back to the
World I once knew?
The world did not wait
But came to me invading
My defences with time
Spent sharing and
Into the silence of years.
The darkened pigments of release
Trail from the boat
As the distance grows
And shrinks toward
What living will be
As I return to life once more –
A new kind of peace
Of knowing the end of
This journey is near
And life will be
What it’s meant to be
I leave the centre
Of this labyrinth of time
Yet carry its gifts inside.
The blue sky lights my window while the apartment across the street glows orangy-red from the rising sun still hidden from view. The tall evergreen blocking the sun’s light casts the bare branches of a deciduous tree in dark relief against the brightness. Only the tips are far enough out of the shadow to catch the brightness. A squirrel scurries past along the power lines drawing my eyes toward the movement in the picture, helping me see the swaying of branches from a gentle wind. Birds fly across the scene, the first small birds I have seen in flight this year. I am quiet, my mind still enough to just listen and look at the world around me.
I am in a resting place in a journey of several months. Circumstances and a need to nurture my resilience covered me like a blanket of snow. The signs of my life were stilled to the world around me, held within the quietness of my home like a tree waiting patiently through the months of cold. The snows have melted that had left a frozen wariness in my spirit. The small buds of new leaves peek out as signs of hope that spring has come again.
I wait, my leaves held tight in their husks knowing the supports in my life are helping me discern the weather, helping me listen to the voice within telling me that all is ready for the next step on this journey. Like the climate in this northern region of the world spring comes in fits and starts working its way out of winter’s hold.
Will today be the day I will hear the news that will open up new steps for me? It is a waiting that tests my patience but also calls me back to the humility of knowing that unlike the tree I had ignored the signs of the changing season trying to hold on to the summer even as autumn shouted its cues. I had ignored my inner voice letting circumstances reach a point of danger to the essence of growth in me. These others had seen it first and prepared the coverings I would need to protect me as I weathered the storms of doubt and fear. I need to listen.
Within the stillness of waiting new growth begins. Art lets my spirit speak what right now I can’t live out as fully in the world around me. I am discovering a quietness, a sanctuary from the old need to control my life through distancing and an unrealistic need for perfectionism in trying to meet the expectations of others. I am learning to display these signs of life – my art pieces- while knowing that there may still be one more step or even a full repurposing before they become settled into what they are to be.
I don’t know where this journey will lead me. That it will be much different from what had been the routines of existing for so long is a given. That I will need to redefine how I would describe myself is a known reality. Much of what I had gained my sense of self from will be altered by the forces I had tried so hard not to see.
But I will grow. I will step back and look again at the art of my life with the knowledge that change is often a sign of growth, a new seeing that expands my perceptions of the world around me. My inner eye gains new appreciation for the richness of the colours, textures, shapes and lines that make life the beautiful evolving reality of being.
I will look, and look again, enjoying what is while becoming more open to acknowledging when growth asks me to take that one more step toward becoming all I was meant to be. Accepting change is a journey of discovery. I step out with hope for what is and what will be.
Reading this post had such resonance to my present journey that I ask permission of its writer, Christine at http://godspace-msa.com/2015/02/09/meditation-monday-stay-close-to-the-cracks/ to allow me to repost it here. Thank you, Christine for being a part of my healing journey. May this post bless others as well. The post ends with a link to Cohen’s song about a crack in everything. Visit her site to follow that link. Thank you.
Meditation Monday – Stay Close to the Cracks
In Eager to Love, Richard Rohr comments that St Francis of Assisi asked us to stay close to the cracks in the social fabric of our world. It is a thought worth reflecting on.
Everything in our lives and in our world has cracks, wounds and broken places that tell of pain and suffering. Sometimes we try to cover them over, attempting to seal them off from the light. But this only makes them fester and get worse.
Yet it is in the cracks, the broken places of our lives, where violence flares and pain cries out that healing happens. When we acknowledge imperfections, we take the first step towards wholeness. It is into the cracks that light can shine and water can seep. It is in the cracks in the concrete that seeds can lodge, germinate and take root. And as green shoots reach for the sky, the crack enlarges, the concrete crumbles and what was meant to live and breathe thrives once more.
What is your response?
Sit quietly in the presence of God, allowing the love of God to wash over you. Read through the prayer above several times. What cracks in your world, what places of woundedness and vulnerability that give you ongoing pain come to mind? In what ways have you tried to cover these over, perhaps with a facade of laughter or with a semblance of respectability? Are there ways you respond, perhaps with fear, or anger or intolerance that show these are festering? Perhaps there are things you need to confess or seek forgiveness for. Offer these up to God in prayer.
Now think of the light that has shone into those cracks. What has it begun to give life too? Are you aware of green shoots emerging towards the sun? How could you nurture their growth and make help them to thrive?
At our local mall recently I noticed that what was once a solid concrete slab of parking slots has now been transformed. Deliberate “cracks” have been added between the rows of cars – small gardens that channel the water into the topsoil and down into the water table are thriving. The rain no longer creates a flood of water that overflows the drains and clogs the waterways.
Sometimes when we stay close to the cracks we realize that they need to be nurtured and strengthened to rebuild the fabric of our lives and our society. And as we nurture these it is not only the surface life that thrives but it is the deep wellsprings of the water table that flourishes too.
What is your response?
Read through the prayer above again. What slabs of pavement are you aware of in your life and society that need to be broken up with gardens? Is there something the spirit of God is prompting you to do that could help accomplish this?
Now listen to the song below and allow the spirit of God to stir your imagination. Is there another response God is asking of you?