Another poem to share. This is based on a dream I had about my grandfather, who has alzheimers, and who I love very much.
Patients dream of me in
Other lives, a look here
A touch there,
It lets them know its me.
This isn’t the only place I belong to.
Old man you sit
Rocking chair supporting wrinkled hands,
Blue veins, bones all but breaking
Through your thin skin.
You are counting down the days
And I have just arrived.
Gravel path in the woods,
Hansel once led Gretel to you
But in your madness you brushed
Them off as stories.
Sunlight dips beneath the tree tops
Casting you in a strange orange glow
As if you were burning from within.
Old man
I have just arrived.
One day bleeds into the next.
Always I am arriving,
I am leaving,
And nothing I do will keep you from aging,
From dying.
Rotting wood and peeling paint
Form the backdrop for your
Bloodshot eyes, tired smile,
Creaking joints.
You rock back and forth.
You look me in the eyes.
You hate it when I leave.
I have just arrived
Black scarf covering my head
In this biting wind.
I do not wonder why you don’t
Look up from your lap when I touch you,
Do not wonder at the coldness
Already setting in.
It is early morning
And the birds greet the day.
It is morning in the woods, dead leaves blowing
Past us, scent of decay
In the earth.
I have just arrived,
And you did not wait for me.
Old man I am left
With sorrow black as thunder,
Heavy as the clouds.
Tell the others hello.
Tell them it’s early here,
Its cold,
And that I have just arrived.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
It was here
It was here
In this silent morning
This cold kitchen
That I found god
How many nights did I suffer
Alone
How many moments
Did I doubt my reason for being here
I hit the bottom
Softly
No one knew but me
No one saw
How quickly the ground
Collapsed beneath me
I saw
And I felt it
And my anguish
Almost swallowed us all
But last night was different
I stood still
As the sun rose
Stood still
As the sky grew lighter
Stood still
As all my doubts dropped
Like broken glass onto the floor
There comes a moment
So subtle
When we can go no further
When hope is all but gone
When we alone
Afraid
At last surrender
And in this moment
We are transformed
The stillness no longer suffocates
The quiet no longer deafens
But instead we fracture
Into larger pieces of truth
Exploding in all directions
And when we are done expanding
When we have finished sleeping
Within the womb of the universe
We collapse back into
This fragile body
This beating heart
In this silent morning
This cold kitchen
That I found god
How many nights did I suffer
Alone
How many moments
Did I doubt my reason for being here
I hit the bottom
Softly
No one knew but me
No one saw
How quickly the ground
Collapsed beneath me
I saw
And I felt it
And my anguish
Almost swallowed us all
But last night was different
I stood still
As the sun rose
Stood still
As the sky grew lighter
Stood still
As all my doubts dropped
Like broken glass onto the floor
There comes a moment
So subtle
When we can go no further
When hope is all but gone
When we alone
Afraid
At last surrender
And in this moment
We are transformed
The stillness no longer suffocates
The quiet no longer deafens
But instead we fracture
Into larger pieces of truth
Exploding in all directions
And when we are done expanding
When we have finished sleeping
Within the womb of the universe
We collapse back into
This fragile body
This beating heart
Monday, February 15, 2010
Destiny
I am going through some of my poetry, and decided to start sharing some here. Here is one I like called Destiny.
His robe is not always pulled tight
Across his head
But it always falls straight down to his feet
Where it coils and uncoils like
Snakes that are never content
Eyes like the blackest stars
Gaze across the land
Half closed eyelids that look partly within
Partly without
He moves like waves on a stormy night
Glides likes ravens across the earth
Wingless birds that somehow stay aloft
I say his name
And he answers silently
So silently that I never hear him
But we hear the things he does not say
Respond to his outstretched finger
That points the way home
When we listen he can take a breather
Feel the sunlight hit his bald head
Watch the way the mountains turn orange and pink
In the setting horizon
When we don’t hear
He must put his hood back on
Leave the mountains behind
And point once more to a place
We all fear
We are so bad at listening to his quiet instructions
That it’s been a millennium since he could stand still
And feast on the blistering sunset
In fact
He has had no chance for rest
Since he took this damn job
His robe is not always pulled tight
Across his head
But it always falls straight down to his feet
Where it coils and uncoils like
Snakes that are never content
Eyes like the blackest stars
Gaze across the land
Half closed eyelids that look partly within
Partly without
He moves like waves on a stormy night
Glides likes ravens across the earth
Wingless birds that somehow stay aloft
I say his name
And he answers silently
So silently that I never hear him
But we hear the things he does not say
Respond to his outstretched finger
That points the way home
When we listen he can take a breather
Feel the sunlight hit his bald head
Watch the way the mountains turn orange and pink
In the setting horizon
When we don’t hear
He must put his hood back on
Leave the mountains behind
And point once more to a place
We all fear
We are so bad at listening to his quiet instructions
That it’s been a millennium since he could stand still
And feast on the blistering sunset
In fact
He has had no chance for rest
Since he took this damn job
Led by the Heart
How life changes when the heart is the boss, instead of our head. This is one of the main things I have been striving towards of late, of listening to the heart, of letting it guide me down this subtle path. It's often hard to hear because other things drown it out: fear, worry, anxiety, grief, and daily distractions. In fact sometimes its so quiet I think that its gone and left me.
So how do I know when its speaking? I know I am truly listening to my heart, and not what my head thinks my heart is feeling, when the decisions and the thoughts are pure. By pure, I mean there is no coloring on the edges, no darkening or tearing like there would be in an old photo or a crumbled piece of paper. When the heart speaks, its voice is clear, and pure, and full of compassion. There is no ulterior motive except love, there is no wanting in it except love, there is no gain except giving and receiving love.
I have been trying to listen, and the results are remarkable. It has made dating an entirely new experience to me, and that is probably why I am still single. There is no more need to save someone, no more desire for someone to take care of me, no more selfish motives to get the validation I can now give myself. In fact, I have turned down a few men recently because I knew my reasons to date them were not true. My heart was not enamored, no matter how great they looked on paper.
Funny things start to happen when the heart leads. People you thought would be perfect fade quickly from your sight, and people you never really noticed come crashing through the front door. My reasons for living are different, my motives for being here are stronger, and are less about me.
And when the night grows darker and loneliness lurks in the shadows, I give my heart to the one thing it truly craves, which is communion with god. In the hands of the infinite I learn about love, and trust, and I realize that no one else will ever supply my heart with the grace it gets from that.
So lead the way heart. Lead me into the silent arms of the world, where I can rest my eyes and nurture my soul.
So how do I know when its speaking? I know I am truly listening to my heart, and not what my head thinks my heart is feeling, when the decisions and the thoughts are pure. By pure, I mean there is no coloring on the edges, no darkening or tearing like there would be in an old photo or a crumbled piece of paper. When the heart speaks, its voice is clear, and pure, and full of compassion. There is no ulterior motive except love, there is no wanting in it except love, there is no gain except giving and receiving love.
I have been trying to listen, and the results are remarkable. It has made dating an entirely new experience to me, and that is probably why I am still single. There is no more need to save someone, no more desire for someone to take care of me, no more selfish motives to get the validation I can now give myself. In fact, I have turned down a few men recently because I knew my reasons to date them were not true. My heart was not enamored, no matter how great they looked on paper.
Funny things start to happen when the heart leads. People you thought would be perfect fade quickly from your sight, and people you never really noticed come crashing through the front door. My reasons for living are different, my motives for being here are stronger, and are less about me.
And when the night grows darker and loneliness lurks in the shadows, I give my heart to the one thing it truly craves, which is communion with god. In the hands of the infinite I learn about love, and trust, and I realize that no one else will ever supply my heart with the grace it gets from that.
So lead the way heart. Lead me into the silent arms of the world, where I can rest my eyes and nurture my soul.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Photography
The big snow hit Nashville, and since this city doesn't seem to have any snowplows, I was more or less snowed in for the entire weekend. It was actually nice to stay home, and spend a long time by myself. Luckily, I like my company.
Even more lucky though, is the fact that I own a camera, and that part of my homework is to get comfortable and familiar with using a tripod and different lighting scenarios. I killed an amazing amount of time playing around with my camera and taking self portraits.
I have often wondered why it is I love photography so much. As long as I can remember few things make me as happy as grabbing my camera and stepping outside my door. It doesn't matter if I am walking the same trail I have walked a thousand times, or if I am somewhere completely new. I still get lost in this magical world where time slows down and the only thing that matters is trying to capture the world in a view I don't normally see it.
Photographers see the world differently. If we go on a drive around the city we notice the shadows that trees cast on the sides of buildings, we notice reflections on skyscrapers, we notice the contrast between everything. In essence, we notice light, and how it changes the way everything looks depending on its quality.
But for me, its also about capturing time. It's about the moments. I love moments, I love the way they arrive unexpectedly, the way they can be so mesmerizing, and then before you know it, they leave again. My whole life I have tried to capture these moments, and then recreate them. That's why I also love writing. I love to put moments down on paper, to try to make them immortal.
Still I know, moments come, and they go. Nothing lasts forever. But looking at a photo, I remember taking the picture, I remember the way the air smelled, the way the wind hit my skin, and I remember the feeling of peace.
Not only do I try capture these perfect moments, but every time I step through my door with my camera in hand, I also create some new moments. If we are anything in this human form, we are a collection of our moments. These frozen snapshots that we hold in our heads, in our hearts, they are what defines us. I suppose I simply want to preserve what I consider to be an extraordinary life to date, I want to cut and paste the times in my life that have shaped me. And I want to surround myself with them, so that everywhere I look I am confronted by the people who have loved me, and the places I have loved.
Even more lucky though, is the fact that I own a camera, and that part of my homework is to get comfortable and familiar with using a tripod and different lighting scenarios. I killed an amazing amount of time playing around with my camera and taking self portraits.
I have often wondered why it is I love photography so much. As long as I can remember few things make me as happy as grabbing my camera and stepping outside my door. It doesn't matter if I am walking the same trail I have walked a thousand times, or if I am somewhere completely new. I still get lost in this magical world where time slows down and the only thing that matters is trying to capture the world in a view I don't normally see it.
Photographers see the world differently. If we go on a drive around the city we notice the shadows that trees cast on the sides of buildings, we notice reflections on skyscrapers, we notice the contrast between everything. In essence, we notice light, and how it changes the way everything looks depending on its quality.
But for me, its also about capturing time. It's about the moments. I love moments, I love the way they arrive unexpectedly, the way they can be so mesmerizing, and then before you know it, they leave again. My whole life I have tried to capture these moments, and then recreate them. That's why I also love writing. I love to put moments down on paper, to try to make them immortal.
Still I know, moments come, and they go. Nothing lasts forever. But looking at a photo, I remember taking the picture, I remember the way the air smelled, the way the wind hit my skin, and I remember the feeling of peace.
Not only do I try capture these perfect moments, but every time I step through my door with my camera in hand, I also create some new moments. If we are anything in this human form, we are a collection of our moments. These frozen snapshots that we hold in our heads, in our hearts, they are what defines us. I suppose I simply want to preserve what I consider to be an extraordinary life to date, I want to cut and paste the times in my life that have shaped me. And I want to surround myself with them, so that everywhere I look I am confronted by the people who have loved me, and the places I have loved.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Ownership
I had a mild epiphany while driving to go dancing today, right after being turned down for refinancing because I have too much debt. I wanted to go right down the easy lane of anger at brian, anger at myself, and frustration at the way circumstances have turned out. But, then I realized, all of this mess, all of this life I call my own, is mine, and mine only. I own it. And the more I give it away to other people, the more I blame others, the less its mine.
So today, I am owning my life. All the crap, all the debt, all the regrets, they are mine. It was my bad choice to marry Brian, my decision to ignore my intuition, my passiveness that let him drag me down with him. All mine.
It's been a tough road. It will stay tough. But I feel like I am rising from the ashes. I wish I could say I felt like a grand phoenix taking flight, but really, it's more like I am digging myself out of a hole that I dug a long time ago, fell in, and recently decided to come up for air. My fingernails are black from dirt, my hair is matted together, and I am covered with bruises. But I made it.
There is a reason that vampires and zombies crawl out of the ground. They are, in a sense, reborn as something new. And so am I. I like to think we can get reborn as often as we choose, and so I choose to reinvent myself on a daily basis as someone who isn't afraid to live her life. To do so, I must accept the good with the bad, and then realize that good and bad are man made delusions.
I simply am. My life simply is. And the only thing we can control in this life is how we respond to it.
So today, I am owning my life. All the crap, all the debt, all the regrets, they are mine. It was my bad choice to marry Brian, my decision to ignore my intuition, my passiveness that let him drag me down with him. All mine.
It's been a tough road. It will stay tough. But I feel like I am rising from the ashes. I wish I could say I felt like a grand phoenix taking flight, but really, it's more like I am digging myself out of a hole that I dug a long time ago, fell in, and recently decided to come up for air. My fingernails are black from dirt, my hair is matted together, and I am covered with bruises. But I made it.
There is a reason that vampires and zombies crawl out of the ground. They are, in a sense, reborn as something new. And so am I. I like to think we can get reborn as often as we choose, and so I choose to reinvent myself on a daily basis as someone who isn't afraid to live her life. To do so, I must accept the good with the bad, and then realize that good and bad are man made delusions.
I simply am. My life simply is. And the only thing we can control in this life is how we respond to it.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Guilt, the modern day oppressor
So far, I am pleased with this year. Out of the last 11 days, I have only missed one day at the gym. Already my flexibility is better than its been in about 15 years, and I am feeling more toned. I also had a ballroom dance lesson today, and gosh, I love it!!
But mainly, I am feeling free of an overriding emotion that until recently, I did not even know existed. And that would be...you guessed it..guilt! Great thanks go to my dad, who with his insight helped me realize what it was about, and how its been affecting me subconsciously.
It all started about 6 years ago when I got a phone call that my first love, Bobby, had died of a heroine overdose. We weren't together at that point, but we had remained close, and I still loved him. I think perhaps a part of me still believed we might one day get back together, once we both grew up a bit.
Well, that news took the ground away from me, and to say I was devastated might be an understatement. At the time I had just broken up with someone, but soon after got back together with them. While with him, I met my first husband, and broke up with the boyfriend to be with him. When that didn't work out, I soon after found another person to date seriously, and only recently did we break up. In other words I went from relationship to relationship, seeking something, and never finding it.
It was a simple comment, but a huge one, when my dad said a few months ago, "Maile, when are you going to stop trying to save Bobby?" And like all truths, it hit with a force that could have parted the skies. Because he was right, I found these good men but with obvious need of 'saving', and I tried to make up for what I believed could have been prevented If I had spent more time reaching out to Bobby.
Is that true? Could I have prevented his death? Who knows. I think anyone who has lost a person they love feels this. Could I have done more? Was I too selfish? How many other people around me are on the verge of relapse, of collapse, of barely making it through the day. I don't have to save him anymore, or save anyone else, but I do need to pay attention. And I need to help, when I can. In this way, I can tell Bobby that I miss him, that I'm sorry.
But mainly, I am feeling free of an overriding emotion that until recently, I did not even know existed. And that would be...you guessed it..guilt! Great thanks go to my dad, who with his insight helped me realize what it was about, and how its been affecting me subconsciously.
It all started about 6 years ago when I got a phone call that my first love, Bobby, had died of a heroine overdose. We weren't together at that point, but we had remained close, and I still loved him. I think perhaps a part of me still believed we might one day get back together, once we both grew up a bit.
Well, that news took the ground away from me, and to say I was devastated might be an understatement. At the time I had just broken up with someone, but soon after got back together with them. While with him, I met my first husband, and broke up with the boyfriend to be with him. When that didn't work out, I soon after found another person to date seriously, and only recently did we break up. In other words I went from relationship to relationship, seeking something, and never finding it.
It was a simple comment, but a huge one, when my dad said a few months ago, "Maile, when are you going to stop trying to save Bobby?" And like all truths, it hit with a force that could have parted the skies. Because he was right, I found these good men but with obvious need of 'saving', and I tried to make up for what I believed could have been prevented If I had spent more time reaching out to Bobby.
Is that true? Could I have prevented his death? Who knows. I think anyone who has lost a person they love feels this. Could I have done more? Was I too selfish? How many other people around me are on the verge of relapse, of collapse, of barely making it through the day. I don't have to save him anymore, or save anyone else, but I do need to pay attention. And I need to help, when I can. In this way, I can tell Bobby that I miss him, that I'm sorry.
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