Not Poetry Thursday, Mary Oliver's Wild Geese - because we all need this reminder

Wild Geese
~Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

I have been moved to tears over the simplest things for the past few weeks - and it is mostly because I am carrying so much for myself and others right now. Not to say that they tears were not appropriate ... but I haven't been allowing myself to feel my own pain, so it spills out when I see that of others.

I do not have to be good or walk on my knees -- or hold in my pain. 

Neither do you.

Wishing you space to feel all the feelings in safety.

Not so small victories

homage to my hips
By Lucille Clifton
these hips are big hips
they need space to
move around in.
they don't fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don't like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,  
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top!

Lucille Clifton, “homage to my hips” from Good Woman. Copyright © 1987 by Lucille Clifton. Reprinted with the permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd.
Source: Good Woman (BOA Editions Ltd., 1987)
Borrowed from Poetry Foundation

Today I mark 12 weeks of re-learning to eat healthy (and love the body I am in at any weight).

My not so small victory is that I have lost 20 lbs.

I am trying to change my relationship with food ... not just that I want to eat healthier foods. I want to use food as nourishment. I want to taste my food. I want the meals that I eat to feel satisfying.

I realized not so long ago (in relationship to my time on earth), maybe ten years ago, that I was an emotional eater. I realized it while I was on a meditation retreat. Going deep into myself caused me great anxiety, and I discovered that I tried to take refuge in food. Shoveling is what I called it.

What I didn't understand at the time was that coping with anxiety was not the only time I was compelled to shovel food.  [Subsequently I shoveled when sad, angry, grieving.]

I also did not connect shoveling with feeling deeply unsatisfied. I didn't note how I could not taste the food as I shoveled.

I thought the not tasting and not feeling satisfied had to do with how fast I eat.

I don't know if I will ever master mindful eating, especially as it pertains to slowing down the eating process.

But I can now say that after eating not just healthy but really good tasting food for the last 12 weeks (mostly thanks to my amazing housemates), I notice when I feel unsatisfied and when I don't taste the food.

It has nothing to do with what I am eating and everything to do with my emotional state.

I am getting much better at noticing my emotions; and my discomfort at having to deal with so many emotions.  Noticing the food I eat, tasting the flavor, feeling satisfied and nourished, is one way that I have accomplished this.

I am still working on how to more effectively feel my emotions. That is to say, how to allow my emotions to move through me without trying to stifle them by numbing.

I am learning to notice the desire to be satisfied and how food does not bring the salve my coping mechanism had led me to believe it would.

This not so insignificant victory of shedding unnecessary weight is a leap forward on loving myself, feeding my body and soul, and treating myself in the ways that will keep me on this road to self love.

Poetry Thursday

The Thing Is
to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
--Ellen Bass

Poetry Thursday ... what the world needs now...

Somewhere somebody 

must have some sense. 

Men must see that 

force begets force, 

hate begets hate, 

toughness begets toughness. 

And it is all 

a descending spiral, 

ultimately ending 

in destruction 

for all and everybody. 

Somebody must have 

sense enough and 

morality enough 

to cut off 

the chain of hate and 

the chain of evil 

in the universe. 

And you do that by love.

 
~ Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr 

– “Loving Your Enemies Speech”

 Nov. 7, 1957

[emphasis added]

From Daily OM...

Sometimes the DailyOm just knows what is going on ... here is one we can all remember... or try to.

  When offering comfort to somebody, their only real need is to have you be in the present moment with them.

Sometimes it is difficult to see someone we love struggling, in pain, or hurting. When this happens, we might feel like we need to be proactive and do something to ease their troubles. While others may want our help, it is important to keep in mind that we need to be sensitive to what they truly want in the moment, since it can be all too easy to get carried away and say or do more than is really needed. Allowing ourselves to let go and simply exist in the present with another person may actually provide a greater amount of comfort and support than we could ever imagine.

Perhaps we can think back to a time when we were upset and needed a kind word, hug, or listening ear from someone else. As we remember these times, we might think of the gestures of kindness that were the most healing. It may have been gentle words such as “I care about you,” or the soothing presence of someone holding us and not expecting anything that were the most consoling. When we are able to go back to these times it becomes easier for us to keep in mind that giving advice or saying more than is really necessary is not always reassuring. What is truly comforting for another is not having someone try to fix them or their problems, but to just be there for them. Should we begin to feel the urge arise to offer advice or repair a situation, we can take a few deep breaths, let the impulse pass, and bring our attention back to the present. Even though we may want to do more, we do not have to do anything other than this to be a good friend.

The more we are attuned to what our loved ones are feeling, the more capable we are of truly giving what is best for them in their hour of need. Keeping things simple helps us give the part of ourselves that is capable of the greatest amount of compassion—open ears and an understanding heart. 

printable version here

Not really poetry Thursday

Love isn’t a state of perfect caring.  
It is an active noun like struggle.  
To love someone is to strive 
to accept that person 
exactly the way he or she is, 
right here and now.  
~Fred Rogers

 struggling mightily with this right now ... and hoping Mr. Rogers will persuade me.  The way he modeled compassion and humanity is so impressive.  Hoping it rubs off.

Quote Thursday

A human being is part of the whole, 

called by us "universe," 

a part limited in time and space. 

He experiences himself, 

has thoughts and feelings, 

as something separate from the rest-- 

a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. 

This delusion is a kind of prison for us, 

restricting us to our personal desires 

and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. 

Our task must be to free ourselves 

from this prison by widening 

our circles of compassion to embrace 

all living creatures and the 

whole of nature in its beauty.

- Albert Einstein

pre-Thursday poetry?

There is a life-force

within your soul,

seek that life.

There is a gem in

the mountain of your body,

seek that mine. 

O traveler,

if you are in search of That

Don't look outside,

look inside yourself

and seek That.

-RUMI

Tuesday afternoons are hard.  Challenging.  Complicated?

I try to spend time with the mijo on Tuesdays – usually it is his time for the grief group and mine for therapy.

I love the mijo – sometimes more than I think is prudent … love is just such a thorny emotion.

Every time I look in his eyes, I remember that his mom can't anymore.  And it breaks my heart. 

So that joy that I have always derived from spending time with him is now always mixed with these bittersweet acknowledgements about what he has lost; what I have lost; what we have all lost.

I hold in my pain because I am not sure how to talk to him about the grief that either of us experiences in these moments.

Then I go to the grief therapy session and my lovely therapist encourages me to open up … to dig deeper, to look underneath my frustration, my pain, my overwhelm.

It seems we keep coming back to my self-inflicted pain getting heaped on top of all the rest.

We agreed, again, this time that I don't have to add the insult to injury.

As I suggested to a friend last week, at that moment, I could pivot.  

I could move my critical eye for a moment away from my own imperfection.  I could remember in that moment to apply some compassion, to give myself that coveted BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT that I so wish others would also give me.

These are big and momentous agreements, acknowledgements, understandings. 

And they are tiny, small, infinitesimal movements, not large, graceful arabesques.

So, I am digging out my metta mantras and trying again.

When the demons (or gremlins) start to denigrate my being, call out all of my imperfections and human failings, I am going to try to remember to stop, breathe and say these to myself.

May I acknowledge abundance.

May I allow love to flow to and from me.

May I embrace my gifts and talents.

May I feel beautiful and strong.

And these revised mantras:

May I see myself with love and compassion.

May I love myself in failure and triumph.

May I express my tender, whimsical self.

May I open to all the love around me.

And I will work on developing others if these do not provide the balm or succor needed.

All of our veterans...[long rant]

There are times when I would like to avert my eyes and pretend that horrible things aren't going on around me ... too many times lately.  But, holding in my feelings isn't helping me.  And I believe in standing up for what we believe in.

So, I am going to poke some holes in the hypocrisy of the moment.  [And you know what I mean because those who profit from hypocrisy move to the next *most important example* of whatever they pretend to care about at the drop of a hat.]

Bowe Bergdahl is coming home after five years in captivity.  The circumstances of how he got captured are largely irrelevant to me.  He was in Afghanistan as a member of our military -- if he were not in the military, he would not have been there.  He did not go to Afghanistan, as other American young men have done, to become a terrorist.

I am not for war -- in fact, I am emphatically against it.  It is not a secret.

However, I believe that those folks who volunteer to serve in our military deserve to be treated with respect and cared for both while on active duty and afterwards.  I believe their families should be acknowledged for the sacrifices that they make.  Though I wish that they were not asked to kill others in my name, I still believe that all citizens should support the military.

We can hate the action and still respect the actor.

In fact, my belief system allows for that to be true for all people, not just the military.

Therefore it will not be surprising that I am thankful that an accord made it possible for Bergdahl to return to his family and the long road of recovery that awaits him.

I think it is unconscionable for media outlets to speculate on the circumstances of his capture or release.  Where was this outrage when a year ago they were publishing information that was released by what the government calls a treacherous act? Interviewing people who *think* Bergdahl deserted without interviewing anyone who might actually be able to call this a desertion is irresponsible and stilted.  These are two media outlets that I regularly use to stay connected to the world -- I would say trusted media outlets, but I am not sure that we have any of those anymore -- or if we ever did.

What we know, so far, is that Bergdahl joined the military because he wanted to help the people in Afghanistan and that he had become disillusioned with the actions of the military.  We know this from private communications with his family -- snapshots of his thoughts, not necessarily explanations of actions.  We do not yet know exactly what happened on the day he was captured, or even in the days preceding that capture.

A kid in war was afraid, ambivalent about the war, worried about his part ... where is the compassion for that?  Are the journalists speculating veterans?  Can they speak to what it feels like to be in a war zone?  I cannot, therefore, I cannot presume to judge.  I can only imagine having compassion for all those in that situation.  And, again, to wish they were not there in my name.  I welcome him home and wish him the best in his recovery.

Let us remember that we have forgiven, acquitted and excused our military killing innocents in the name of war in Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan (lately) and many other places in the past.  We recognize how trauma from their service has caused many veterans and some active duty service people to commit crimes, inflict pain and death on others and to take their own lives.  We *know* the psychological toll that their service is taking on our military and their families.  It is not a secret or an unproven hypothesis.

So, I call those who will point the finger hypocrites.  If, as a public, we are to keep in mind the horrors of war and how they prey on the men and women in the military, then surely there is some compassion for Bergdahl.  Surely we can, at least, give him the benefit of the doubt until the investigation is complete.  I seem to recall the so-called American Taliban receiving more compassionate sentiment and treatment upon his return to the United States -- we could perhaps start that conversation with the fact that he was not sent to Guantanamo for his sentence.

Note that I am not even addressing the most egregious media outlets in the business of hypocrisy.  I cannot even stand to listen to what they are saying.  These are the folks who routinely call for our military to be sent into harm's way.   It makes my blood boil...

There is another hypocrisy that needs to be addressed that this issue calls into our consciousness: those that are now in Guantamo, for the most part, are the detainees we cannot either release or try.  We choose not to release them because we fear they are dangerous.  We cannot try them because they are more than likely victims of torture at our military's hand.  It is possible that we created the danger by torturing them as our prisoners.  If we could trade them for one of our own, why not?  It is small recompense for torture and indefinite confinement.

I reserve a considerable amount of my scorn for the *president* of Afghanistan who refuses to deal with the dangerous situations in his country because he does not want to deal with the Taliban.  I look forward to the time when none of our troops are in Afghanistan.  I look forward to a time when Mr. Karzai cannot simply point his finger at us and pretend that he has no complicity in the terrible situation he and his country find themselves in.  I don't abdicate our role, I simply refuse to give him a pass as well.

Ugh...

I remain thankful for Bergdahl's release and his return to his family.  May they all find peace.

Grief is ...

Grief is

much more than just crying 

and feeling sad.

It is anger

and sleeplessness

and hunger

and nausea

and loneliness

and anger.

It makes you numb

and prickly

all at the same time.

Sometimes you can't remember

anything but the aching loss

in your life, 

in your soul.

Sometimes the favorite memory

makes you laugh and smile

and sometimes it makes you

cry and cry.

It is shaking your fist at the sky

and crawling into the fetal position

and digging into the ground on your knees.

It is doing something you never tried before,

and hiding in a dark room,

and worrying when you will hit by lightning

or a bus or a car or if the big one will hit.

It makes you realize you need to live 

and it makes you feel like dying.

Sometimes all at once.

 

Grief is not just crying 

and feeling sad.

It is bigger, deeper, wider, taller, 

and more confusing

and frustrating.

And there is no way around it.

You won't find an answer

at the bottom of a bottle,

in cookies, cakes or pies,

in someone else's arms,

or by causing yourself harm.

after the snark...

Alaska 2008

...may we all be at peace.

I am working on judgement. 

After yesterday's post, you might not believe it.  Sometimes you just have to get it out so that it doesn't cause you more pain.

It is not realistic to hope for a life without judgement.  We judge, assess, measure, attach meaning all the time, about everything.  Honestly, we couldn't make calculated moves if we didn't -- or move at all, in some cases.  Is that car too close, is it far enough away for me to change lanes?

You get the picture.

But there are other judgements -- you know the ones.

They are assessments but they signal more about how we feel about ourselves than they do about what move to make next.

Since I moved home, the judgement voice has been getting louder, and more shrill.  She is defensive beyond belief.  And I know it is because I feel judged, all the time.  So, I am trying to hear the judgement and recognize the plea with in it.  I try to apply compassion to that crying soul inside myself ... sometimes I succeed and sometimes I just hear more judgements -- this time of myself.

I bring this up now, the day after the snark, not because I had some wonderful, life changing revelation -- no, but I did feel guilty the whole time the snarkiness was oozing out of my fingertips.

I opened this piece on sympathetic joy by Andrea, aka one of my favorite people, and I wanted to share it because it did touch a nerve in me.

I want to release my judgement because I want to feel better about me ... reveling in others' success and happiness might be one way to do it.

I am going to resolve, here and now, to do my special metta mantras every morning as a way to start the day in compassion and love rather than in judgement.

Here they are in "I" form -- always start with myself as I widen my circle out to the world:

May I acknowledge abundance
May I allow love to flow to and from me
May I embrace my gifts and talents
May I feel beautiful and strong

May I see myself with love and compassion
May I love myself in failure and triumph
May I express my tender, whimsical self
May I open to all the love around me

in the well

I have spent the better part of the last two weeks inside of a deep, dark hole.

It would appear that in order to grieve, I need to stop, be very still and let emotions come.

If I go out of the house, I immediately pull on the "I'm ok" face - which is actually code for "I feel supremely vulnerable" -- and then the steel door comes down between me and my emotions.

I am afraid that this is not a good long-term solution ... and I am not sure what will work in its place.  However, it is where I have needed to be -- for as long as I could.

Today, tomorrow and on and on until I finish, I will be packing and preparing for my departure.

There may be time for a little more wallowing ... or not ... but the backlog of grief is not something I want to face again.  So, I hope that I can learn to give myself space for this pain.

Holding it in is not an option ... and pretending to be "OKAY" isn't either.

But for now, I am trying to rain down compassion on myself -- whatever I need right now is all I can do.

Poetry Thursday, John Donne Style - one day late... oops

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend's
Or of thine own were:
Any man's death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee. 

-John Donne
 

From Meditation XVII from Devotions upon Emergent Occasions

Remembering my cousin -- happy 44th, Michelle... miss you.

Poetry Thursday, Happy Thanksgiving

Happiness 

cannot be 

traveled to, 

owned, 

earned, 

worn or consumed. 

Happiness is 

the spiritual experience 

of living every minute 

with love, 

grace, 

and gratitude. 

-D Waitley 

May you all experience happiness as you share with family and friends the abundance of life.

Poetry Thursday, more gratitude

No kind action ever stops with itself.

One kind action leads to another.

...

A single act of kindness

throws out roots in all directions,

and the roots spring up

and make new trees.

The greatest work that 

kindness does to other is

that it makes them kind themselves.

-Amelia Earhart

A Cave of One's Own...part 1

aka The Carrel
aka backstory ... from a while ago

Once upon a time, there was a grad student who wanted a place to keep some books (like 50).  She didn't want to carry them all home since every surface at home was already covered in books ... and these were more like "reference" books than anything else.

She had a list of 180 items to read ... or more, 180 is the bottom number.

So, she loaded up a ton of books into her "open carrel" and took two weeks off to get ready for the start of the new semester.

When she returned to her little carrel, number 331 - like a cell number, there were no books there.  There was a little piece of paper taped to the carrel with a hand written note.

It said something like, I have your books... you need to renew your carrel or they will be reshelved.

To me, it read like a ransom note, but not the kind that asks for something that you could actually give -- it is asking for your first born son, but you are no longer in child bearing years -- so, yup, you guessed it, I was not getting my books back.

Anyone in their right mind would have sent me an email -- or even snail mail -- before the would spend the time checking those books back in. 

Let's see, for her, it was really no big deal -- she would send someone else to collect them, she would give them to someone else to check them in and several someone elses would have to reshelf said books.

However, I am quite sure that in the time it took her to do all of the ordering around she did, not to mention to hand write the threatening note -- she could have written me an email. 

Just sayin'.

Imagine the horror I experienced when I saw that note... hopefully, I bounded down the three flights to the desk where the notewriter was supposed to be.

She was not there, no one there could help ... no one there had any idea what I should do, just that the person I needed to talk to wouldn't be there until Tuesday (it was the weekend and a long weekend to boot ...)

I don't go to campus on Tuesdays, so when I went in on Wednesday, I hoped to resolve it.

Nope, said person again not there and everyone else, clueless... no suggestion that I leave a note that I try to get in touch with someone ... just come back.  This time, though, they gave me the card of a person ... not the hand written note person ... her boss.

The next day, when I go back, I am a known quantity, crazy grad student who wants her books ... we know that we've reshelved them, but we don't want to tell her ...

The person I was supposed to ask for turns out was not the person who had sealed my fate.  I don't know her name, on the fated day she was wearing a blue shirt, and now that is what I call her, blue shirt.

May blue shirt never be in a class that I ga/teach/get near to because I will not be able to find it in my power to be fair, impartial, professional ... I will be just like her:  a ruthless, ridiculous, reshelving rube... 

Apparently she has no idea what an open carrel might be used for by a graduate student ... ugh.

Poetry Thursday for Compassion

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Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day. You shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

 Basking in the beauty of NM -- trying to be positive! Acoma Pueblo, May 2010.