A Day Of Remembering

As I continue my day-to-day writing, I find that every day is a day of remembering.  The words of family and friends, who are no longer in this world, surprise me on the page.  Their wit and wisdom help me to lighten up and actually, to feel more alive.  

It seems that my ancestors and departed friends are still interested in my life –  we are still in relationship in some way.  Perhaps, writing helps to bridge the gap between the visible and invisible worlds, insuring that our awareness of love never dies and that forgiveness can happen at any point in time.   

The following is a poem I wrote one afternoon after a tap class with my friends.  On the joy of the class and openness of my imagination, words came from my maternal grandmother who died when my mother was a child.  I felt connected to the accepting, forgiving, “life goes on” wisdom of my grandmother.

 

I feel myself

seventeen again

before the night that stole my youthful dreams

the ones that ricocheted off everyone’s expectations and my own

stubborn self-reliance.

The night took away my light I thought

Did my soul choose to trudge the path worn by my Magdalene sisters?

Hidden beneath mismatched dreams folded in on one another?

The grandmother I never knew

was called Lena

short for Magdalene, a name too large to speak in the every day

I’ve called to her for wisdom, for love and she answered,

She rises now in my sleep, in my garden and in the silence.

As the sun slants golden in the afternoon, she says,

“See, it’s not too late to enjoy the light.”

Here’s a Writing Exercise to Help with Remembering:  Write a letter to a departed friend or ancestor – put the letter away and later write a letter back to you, from them.   This act of imagination has the power to connect us to the capacities of being human, self-reflection, memory, intuition, forgiveness and humor.

 

 

The Beauty We Love

A beautiful writing invitation:  Begin and end a piece of your own writing with lines from A Great Wagon, by Rumi. For the one below, I used the lines, “Let the beauty we love be what we do.” and “There are hundreds of ways to knell and kiss the ground.”   For further inspiration, listen to On Being with Krista Tippet as she interviews Fatemeh  Keshavarz, a professor of Persian & Comparative Literature at Washington University in St. Louis and the author of several books, including Reading Mystical Lyric: The Case of Jalal aI-Din Rumi.   I have included the full Rumi poem at the end of the post.

 

Let the Beauty We Love Be What We Do

What is the beauty I love?

Caring, nurturing, supporting

living – breathing

feeling the love that dances between us, the light we move in.

Nature, in greenery and sunlight, blossoming and offering

A child, in motion and at rest

An adult, in relaxation and creativity.

Being in loving relationship

with plants, animals, stones and people

creating art, writing poetry, telling stories

inventing new technologies, growing vegetables,

caring for children, dancing, singing and playing musical instruments.

Imagine – is that all there is, living and loving till you die?

Then you become the light that your descendants move in, the love that dances between.

There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

 

A Great Wagon by Rumi

When I see your face, the stones start spinning! You appear; all studying wanders. I lose my place.

Water turns pearly. Fire dies down and doesn’t destroy.

In your presence I don’t want what I thought I wanted, those three little hanging lamps.

Inside your face the ancient manuscripts Seem like rusty mirrors.

You breathe; new shapes appear, and the music of a desire as widespread as Spring begins to move like a great wagon. Drive slowly. Some of us walking alongside are lame!

~

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

~

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about. Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn’t make any sense.

~

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep. You must ask for what you really want. Don’t go back to sleep. People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch. The door is round and open. Don’t go back to sleep.

I would love to kiss you. The price of kissing is your life.

Now my loving is running toward my life shouting, What a bargain, let’s buy it.

~

Daylight, full of small dancing particles and the one great turning, our souls are dancing with you, without feet, they dance. Can you see them when I whisper in your ear?

~

They try to say what you are, spiritual or sexual? They wonder about Solomon and all his wives.

In the body of the world, they say, there is a soul and you are that.

But we have ways within each other that will never be said by anyone.

~

Come to the orchard in Spring. There is light and wine, and sweethearts in the pomegranate flowers.

If you do not come, these do not matter. If you do come, these do not matter.

Winter Spiral

The Goddess of Love and Beauty, Aphrodite, is known for her golden aura.  In autumn, the golden light slants, sending sunbeams into the corners of our homes, it moves in leafy patterns on the page as I write outdoors and I feel held in love and beauty.  I watch as the squirrel takes the large orange seeds from the sago palm, one by one, to his winter hideaway.

 

I too, want to prepare.  I feel myself spiraling inward to the place where all the golden nuggets have been stashed – to reflect and renew.  A blue heron flies directly overhead and I remember the words of Jamie Sams in his book, Medicine Cards, “Heron asks that you examine yourself with a cold eye…and see the truth of [your] motives, actions, feelings, dreams, goals, inner strengths, and inner weaknesses.  In balancing those truths, Heron’s medicine shows you how to meet the challenges of your personal weaknesses and how to continue developing the skills that lead to inner strength and certainty of purpose.”  Winter, with nature’s cold and quiet is a natural time for inner reflection, a time to kindle the fires of an inner sun.  I know that with this inner quiet and warmth and light, what I have to give and what I can allow myself to receive is expanded.

Writing Inspiration:  Take a few moments in the morning to write down your dream or even just a list of the people or animals in your dreams.  As part of your winter reflection, write a letter to one of those people or animals – you might begin with a question.  Later, write a letter to yourself back from them.  Finally, you can incorporate words from the letter in a verse, poem or affirmation. According to Carl Jung, every dream image represents a part of your self AND as Thomas Moore reflects, there are a 1000 ways to interpret a dream.  With this writing practice, you don’t have to interpret the dream to glean some of the wisdom offered.

For support in our winter reflection my friend, Christine Lester and I are co-creating observances of the Holy Nights (otherwise known as the twelve days of Christmas or in Pre-Christian times as the twelve days when the forces of the Sun are renewed in each of us). For more information go to the Events and Calendar page at sharonelliott.com

Photo Credit: NASA, ESA, and The Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA)
Acknowledgment: P. Knezek (WIYN)

Arch Bridges

For a few days, I have been thinking about arch bridges, remembering how the bridge is made strong as the two sides lean into each other.  I consider it a metaphor for how the masculine and feminine can lean toward each other, how the head and the heart can find a place in the middle.

On an arch bridge, the last piece that goes in to fill the gap is called the keystone.  When things get too emotional and the head with its logic can find ways to “prove” either side, I live with the question, “What is the keystone?”  An answer came – respect for the dignity of the individual and the honor of living in community.   So as I drove past the political signs in my neighborhood, I remembered the keystone and went to vote.

And when I wake worried in the night, I re-visit this poem by Wendell Berry.

The Peace of Wild Things
By Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Writing inspiration:  When worry or concern edges in, spend some time in nature, slow your breath and your pace.  Notice what captures your attention outwardy (perhaps a bird, a squirrel, a dog) and notice how you feel inwardly – Can you allow a feeling of spaciousness and freedom to surround you and the animal?  Write from within this space – word associations, random impressions or whatever flows – it might be that from within this space your heart can enter a needed conversation.  (for more on arch bridges, visit this site science.howstuffworks.com)