fate or concertinas – does it matter?
god or neurological – the miracle remains
can you hold the deep stillness
that observes and opens its heart
even as you return to the dance?
Poem a Day November – Day 3
in praise of the still, small voice
that does not speak butĀ grasps
you at the crux of your bones
and moves you into the day
when moments ago you thought you’d
spend all day afloat
on the ocean-bob of the couch
in praise of cupcakes and clarinets
in praise of the white pines
looming curved and sap-dripping
pinned by the wings of Aphrodite
to the world
Poem a Day November – Day 2
for Lee Ann
clothed in ink and wreathed in shadow
alien life pushing through the thread of your own
offer up a cup of parcels: poems, carrots, shrimp heads
— chomp! — it accepts
or expresses displeasure in endless nausea,
jolting you through the interior as you travel
the two worlds, inside and out
what witch’s power lets you let it pass through you
without death but transformation?
Poem a Day November — Day 1
Yes, I know I’m late. All I have to say about that is “fuck you, November.” Although October was more of a bitch this year than November so far.
I’m more of a poet than a novelist, so I’m doing what some poets have started to do, which is write a poem a day in November instead of the insane marathon of a 10,000 word sustained narrative.
I fully expect this month’s poems to be mediocre in quality. As Julia Cameron said, “rest on the page.” A single haiku is better than silence — at least in this scenario. If you want the good stuff, buy the chapbook. Assuming it’s ever actually published. [Update: It WAS published!]
still waters of the pond
turn the eye inward
leaves a carpet of yellow–
sun on the ground
turn the eye outward
Meditation Challenge: Day 8 of 28
Once a day and twice on Sundays. Yesterday I sat for 20 minutes in the morning and then 20 minutes after I got home from a visit with Mom. It was the first time I’ve done a meditation at night in this go-round. Very interesting to see the differences in the state of the mind between morning and evening. Took me longer to settle down — actually longer to sit. Part of the evening meditation was also about re-settling after a day that involved lots of driving. Re-settling myself into my home and re-sanctifying it.
This morning I began Week Two of the program, which focuses on the body. Specifically, the teaching suggests that I focus on areas of discomfort or pain within my body. Relating how I approach discomfort, pain, not getting what I what, to how I relate to my own body’s pain. It’s a very powerful association but definitely a more challenging kind of meditation. Luckily, the teaching — and my own mind and experience — remind me to continue to be gentle and open. I move back and forth between focusing on my breath and returning to the area of discomfort. First the general area, then gradually honing in on the spot that has the most intensity of pain. Or sensation. This kind of meditation can be exhausting. So I begin, again and again. Return to the breath. Return to the sensation. The teaching even suggests focusing on pleasurable sensations as well — but warns that it is easier to get lost in pleasurable sensations.
I do not think that attempting this challenge by myself would be a good idea if I did not already have some experience practicing meditation with others. It is so easy to become overwhelmed and lost in the mind. But also wonderfully rewarding to peel away the layers and find, finally, the Centered Self. The End of Desire. The bottom of the tackle box.
(Re)Commit to Sit
Right around the equinox I started the Tricycle 28-day meditation challenge. Other friends of mine might do weight-loss challenges, but this is definitely more my speed. So to speak.
As the word “challenge” might imply, the course set out by the hard-core Buddhists over at Tricycle magazine was a little too rigorous for me. But I figured it was a good opportunity to deepen my on-again off-again sort-of daily practice of mindful movement and seated meditation into something a little, um, deeper. I may not be able to commit to 20 minutes a day of sitting still for the rest of my life, but at least I could commit to 28 days.
Tricycle’s staff wanted me to sit for TWO 20-minute periods, morning and evening, and then dedicate two hours over the weekend to more sitting. Maybe that makes sense for a farmer or a delivery person, but I ALREADY spend far too much time with my butt planted in a chair. 20 minutes of doing it mindfully sounded possible, though, especially since seated meditation always inspires me to a more frequent yoga and/or tai chi practice too.
The first few days went pretty well. Then, on day 3, I started feeling like crap. Some passing physical symptoms kicked up the chronic illness and before I knew it a week had passed.
I got back to it last night. I was pretty emotionally raw and noticed that the practiced helped calm me — but not just because of the practice itself but because of all the little bits and pieces I’ve learned about mindfulness practice over the years. This morning I sat again, and for the first time I saw the sitting as a gift I was giving myself rather than something I was taking away from more meaningful pursuits.
There is a difference, after all, between focusing all of my consciousness into the screen whilst typing madly with my fingers and hunching my shoulders… and sitting quietly listening to my body.
In terms of how to count the days, I decided to consider myself pretty much at the same place I left off last week. The 28 days are divided into four weeks of practice, with a focus that shifts from breath to body to mind to etc — I’m trying not to peek ahead. So I’m still on the breath week.
We’ll see whether I want to give myself the gift of 20 minutes of seated meditation tonight, or some other gift instead. Like a hot bath. Or another form of relaxation.
For right now, at least, I’m glad to be back on the beam.
Review: Wife of the Gods
Wife of the Gods: A Novel by Kwei Quartey
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I found Quartey’s description of the divide between city and country culture in Ghana eerily similar to the same divide that exists in the USA. At times lyrical in description, with excellence characterization. A story about real people in Africa, not just the latest political or natural disaster.
Recipe for Drizzling – Poem by Katrina Kostro
Recipe for Drizzling
Pick three dying daisies whose petals are still attached
Detach the petals and lay them
on an olive green clay plate
Sprinkle powdered sugar over the daisy petals
and tell them just because they have exceeded
their time of living, they are not powerless
The poem is to lift up their self-esteem
Play old Bruce Springsteen; make it loud enough for them to hear
so it’s not as if he has died as well, but
don’t blast it, because the dead daisy petals are delicate
Have a cry
Collect your tears in a tall dark blue glass
Stop crying now
Sing along to a couple of Bruce lines, so the petals
know you’re listening too
Get an eye dropper
Dip it into the dark sea in the blue glass
Fill up the dropper
And drip a few tear-drops over the petals
so it’s as if they have been drizzled on
Turn off Bruce
The daisies will be angry
Tell them to treat others as they are treated
And it will start to drizzle outside
– Katrina Kostro
From Letters to the World: Poems from the Wom-Po LISTSERV
Richards, Starace, Wheeler, eds.
More about the WOM-PO LISTSERV:
http://usm.maine.edu/wompo/
Then — Poem by Lesley Wheeler
Then
If my son is a lantern spilling light and warmth
throug the rose panes of his skin
if combustion is a chemical reaction involving oxygen
and if its byproducts are heat and carbon dioxide
if we also exhale heat and carbon dioxide
if we are fire, converting the molecules around us
if the flames banked all day leap in me at night
and if I am too tired to rise and write
if I carry the spark in me, conserving it,
but its bright engine keeps changing the fuel of my life
into ashes, ashes–if the first conflagration is over
and the long deep burn is underway
if I feed with my breath, if I burn hotter,
if I smother it, if I keep changing air into spirit
— Lesley Wheeler
from Heathen
Note: Interview with the poet coming soon.
Five Things to Be Grateful for Today
- Got to see Marge Piercy read in person at the Longfellow House yesterday. I told her that The Moon is Always Female is still my favorite book of hers, and she recommended What Are Big Girls Made Of?. She also knew how to spell my name correctly. And she signed my copy of one of her latest volumes of poetry.
- The sun is shining and the relative humidity is low. I’m going outside for a walk while I still can.
- Got a call from one of my business owners at 9:30 AM. I had a mouth full of yogurt when she called, but at least I was on my way into the office, which is more than can be said for more days than I’d care to admit in the last year or so. After 7 hours working on something I expected to be able to fix in about 30 minutes, I’ve got the changes ready for release.
- Today is the 20th anniversary of the ADA. Thanks, the the first George Bush for signing that. And thanks, Bill Clinton, for signing the FMLA. Without those two pieces of legislation — and an employer big enough and honorable enough to care about adhering to employment law — I’d probably be out of a job right now.
- There was a big rally on the Common today to celebrate. I was hoping to go, but I have surgery scheduled on Friday. I’m grateful for the health insurance that makes the procedure possible, and all the love and support I’ve gotten from friends and family around this and the other health issues that have been KICKING MY ASS in the past couple of years.
Garden of Words 