The Well: Poem and Image

 The Well  

There is a well

deep in the heart

of the green world.

It is a long way

from here, or just

around the bend.

No one knows

the way there.

You can ask.

Not a soul can say,

only yours.

If you go,

when you go,

be sure to bring

an offering.

Only taking would be

an offense.

Only giving would be

a lie.

When the longing

for those waters

grows strong enough

in you, you must go.

You may wonder

if the yearning is due to

your being summoned,

or if it is yours alone.

In truth,

it does not matter.

The well in the woods

waits patiently.

Just go.

The Mystic and the Pragmatist

 I draw a SoulCollage® card pretty much every day as a guide for the day.  Here's one that sparked a poem. What is hard to see is that the woman on the right is holding a model of a factory.

The Mystic and the Pragmatist

In Memory of Angeles Arrien and Seena Frost

 

 

Angeles always advised,

“Walk the mystical path

with practical feet.”

 

It is truly a balancing

act, always juggling

the moon and the machine,

the stars and the darkness.

 

This waterfall world

is liminal. Edge dwelling

is what we have.

 

Neither mystic nor

pragmatist must

reign supreme;

one alone is

half a soul.

 

Ground the body!

Raise your eyes and

your hands!

See how the waterfall

links heaven and earth!

Ode to a Chair

 Who knows where these ideas come from?  I suddenly thought I wanted to write about my recliner, on which I have spent much of the last five months.  It made me think of Pablo Neruda's odes to ordinary things.  I once knew his "Ode to Tomato" by heart, and loved hearing Doug recite the one to socks.  So, remembering them and Neruda (not that I can in any way compare myself to him), here is my ode to a chair.

Stolid and stalwart,

it sits by the window

with a vista of distant hills,

local trees and dwellings,

and bird feeders bustling

with finches and hummingbirds.

Reclined, its chestnut leather skin

opens into a nest of ease,

accompanied by a soft,

pale green blanket.

Upright, it is a perfect place

for reading to children.

The chair has been comfort,

companion and consoler.

Praise the small things 

that hold us up!

Here is an articulation of gratitude

to the chair of my illness

and my healing.

 

 

Reframing Those Challenging Days

 Here’s the beauty of SoulCollage® - Often, you don’t really see what you have made until afterwards, and sometimes much later on. 

Yesterday, I was having a challenging day, as so many of us are experiencing in these times of pandemic and political chaos.  The uncertainties are stunning and can easily knock you for a loop. How will we ever get out of this?  Even if we get a vaccine, will it be safe and effective?  Who is walking around infected but without symptoms and may be infecting others?  Why do some people get mild cases and others die?  Am I safe?  Are my loved ones?  Will Trump win another term and doom us all?  You are quite familiar with this sort of thinking, I’m sure.

 

On top of all this mess, I have a life-threatening illness.  I recently had a presumably successful surgery, but sarcoma, my variety of cancer, tends to recur, and my tumor was pretty aggressive.  With this uncertainty piled on top of the rest, it isn’t strange that I’d have some unsettled days.

 

However, right now I’m recovering well, and for the first time in months, without a lot of pain or under the influence of narcotics, I am experiencing the cooped-up boredom others have complained of.  So, I sat myself down and made a new SoulCollage® card.  Here’s what it looks like (my usual bad phone shot):

 

 

 

When I allowed it to speak to me (a process we employ when making cards), it seemed to be telling me that I was just looking for a way out of my predicament.  Notice the word “just.”  I told a friend I wasn’t sure I liked this card.

 

This morning, while working on my morning pages, I sat with the card again.  It dawned on me then that although there was indeed a figure doubled over with grief, depression or pain, there were three others who were looking for a way.  Perhaps a way to relate rather than a way out.  Maybe they were giving me advice on handling my situation, rather than merely trying to escape it.  One is painting or writing.  One is meditating.  the third is looking far off.  Right!  Three ways to apply myself – art, meditation, and far-seeing (which to me means having a greater perspective, a spiritual view).

 

I love the card now.  It's not the most beautiful, but that has no bearing on its relevance. And, of course, the whole SoulCollage® process is a treasure.  It doesn’t matter that I already have several hundred cards; it’s always fresh and new.  

Grateful.

A New Poem

 My morning pages have been yielding some new poems.  I can't tell you how happy this makes me!  For several months, I couldn't write at all, my meager energies being devoted to coping with illness and treatment.  It is a gift to be able to go down to my studio and my beautiful altars and write.

So, here's a new one:

Undying Companion

 

 

Once upon a time,

            the word cancer

evoked such terror

            that merely reading

or saying it superstitiously

            tempted a raging

death curse into

            the body.

 

How things have changed,

            now that the interloper

invisibly insinuated its rapidly

            growing presence inside.

I can say the word now,

            without flinching.

Even after surgical removal,

            this disease has asserted

its place as my undying companion,

            and always will.

 

I will walk with cancer.

            I will dance with cancer,

I will sit with cancer, and

            I will sleep with cancer,

until I sleep

            for good.

 

It is not that the terror

            has dispersed.

It is only that uncertainty,

            which is true for all,

has traveled from a

            complacent distance

to take hold

            of my hand.