The Winter of Listening

Winter Walk with Tiff & Lu

My head has been buzzing with “all the things” for the last several days, so it was a gift to pause earlier today and consider the words of David Whyte’s “The Winter of Listening.”  The poem reminded me of winter’s purpose–to slow down, to be still, to rest, to listen, to connect, to give birth to something new.

May this winter “be enough for the new life [you] must call [your] own.”

The Winter of Listening
David Whyte

No one but me by the fire,
my hands burning
red in the palms while
the night wind carries
everything away outside.

All this petty worry
while the great cloak
of the sky grows dark
and intense
round every living thing.

All this trying
to know
who we are
and all this
wanting to know
exactly
what we must do.

What is precious
inside us does not
care to be known
by the mind
in ways that diminish
its presence.

What we strive for
in perfection
is not what turns us
to the lit angel
we desire.

What disturbs
and then nourishes
has everything
we need.

What we hate
in ourselves
is what we cannot know
in ourselves but
what is true
to the pattern
does not need
to be explained.

Inside everyone
is a great shout of joy
waiting to be born.

Even with the summer
so far off
I feel it grown in me
now and ready
to arrive in the world.

All those years
listening to those
who had
nothing to say.

All those years
forgetting
how everything
has its own voice
to make
itself heard.

All those years
forgetting
how easily
you can belong
to everything
simply by listening.

And the slow
difficulty
of remembering
how everything
is born from
an opposite
and miraculous
otherness.
Silence and winter
has led me to that
otherness.

So let this winter
of listening
be enough
for the new life
I must call my own.

The Sense of the Beautiful…

A [wo]man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of this life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

This is my son’s viola. I shot [and edited] this photograph a couple of years ago while he was preparing to participate with the middle school orchestra in his school’s Christmas concert.

When he was about 18 months old, my not-little one was so moved by a classical piece playing in the background that he started crying. He did not understand the music, but it certainly touched something in him. I’ve often wondered if he was responding to “the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.”

Don’t we–adults–sometimes respond similarly when we encounter something awe-inspiring?  Have you ever been moved to tears by the profound beauty of a thing?

Five [Make that Six] Simple Things

I used all my blogpost-writing energy responding to a student and justifying why we’re examining a text she finds objectionable. I probably should submit the response for publication.

A-ny-way, since that exercise zapped all my energy and I need a feel-good moment, I’m sharing “5 Simple Things to Remember” from a Blue Mountain Arts magnet card that is posted on my file cabinet.

      1. Love is why we are here.
      2. The most important day is today.
      3. If you always do your best, you will not have regrets.
      4. Sometimes a wrong turn will bring you to exactly the right place.
      5. For all your accomplishments, nothing will bring you more happiness than the love you find.

Trite, but true.

The cute postcard above was made by my Love Notes 32 partner, Stephanie T.  She added another “simple thing to remember” on the back of the card:

Sometimes when you’re in a dark place you think you’ve been buried, but you’ve actually been planted.  –Christine Caine

I hope you took good notes! Happy Week!

#ThursdayTreeLove | Lit

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing which stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity, and by these I shall not regulate my proportions; and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the [wo]man of imagination, nature is imagination itself. As a [wo]man is, so [s]he sees.  –William Blake, “Letter to John Trusler,” 1799.

I’m having a hard time focusing on my tasks today, so I’m taking a short break to share a bit of tree love.

One late October evening just before leaving work, I looked out the window and whoa!  I was stunned speechless by these trees lit by the setting sun. I was mesmerized, actually.

The photos do little justice to the scene, but I hope they offer just a glimpse of the unearthly beauty that nearly moved me to tears.


I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

To Grieve? To Celebrate?

The holiday season is here in full force. Even though I love it, sometimes, I struggle to get into the “holiday spirit.” However, this year I wanted to begin the Christmas season months ago.

I need the tree, the blinking lights, the decorations, the cheer. There has been so much loss and chaos that it’s a relief to focus on something celebratory.

Conversely, there has been so much loss this year that it is difficult to be present for all the magic and beauty of the season. There are no words to lessen the burden of grief for those who have lost spouses, parents, children, siblings, friends, especially when the entire world seems to be grieving.

I wish I could reach out and hug the world with my words, but nothing I write would suffice.

But there is healing in words. Especially those we speak. I know everyone grieves differently, but I wonder what would happen for us if instead of suffering in silence, we’d wail in agony and expose the gnawing ache and gaping emptiness.

How liberating it would be to not “handle it well,” but give into it en masse!

My favorite bard places words of wisdom in the mouth of his character, Ross, who, after relating the slaughter of Macduff’s wife and children at the hands of Macbeth, urges him [Macduff] to express his grief because unexpressed grief burdens and breaks the heart:

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak
whispers the o’erfraught heart and bids it break.

William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act IV, Scene 3, Lines 245-246

Maybe in speaking, those all-consuming emotions will begin to feel more manageable and we’ll eventually find our way to celebration. Maybe, we’ll breathe and feel alive again and welcome the sadness of loss as only one part of life’s story.

Keep Dreaming

Art by Karen B.

Love Noters are an amazing group of people. They’re certainly my kind of people–artists and dreamers who love music, books, nature, paper, and ink. Thanks to my growing group of letter sisters, I have enough art to fill an art gallery and keep my heart full.

Today’s post features the abstracts created by Karen B, my partner for Love Notes 31, and “Dreams,” a short poem by Langston Hughes.

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Art by Karen B.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Art by Karen B.

Karen’s art is beautifully understated with a bit of whimsy and seriousness at once. I’ve paired her work with Langston Hughes’s “Dream” because, like his, her work seems effortless but holds a world of complexity.

Until next time, hold fast to your dreams…

Give Me a Second to…Release…in This Moment

From 2016-2019 I participated in National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) and wrote a blog post every day in November. Earlier this year, I thought I would do the same this month, but by mid-September, I knew there was no way I could commit to NaBloPoMo while battling pandemic-fatigue. I reminded myself that I “blogged” every day in April, National Poetry Month, so two months of daily posts in one year might be a bit much to ask of myself.

Fall Semester is over, and I am only a few grades away from being able to reclaim some parts of my brain. Now, I can focus on clearing a “backlog” of tasks from my to-do list and sharing pretties with you a little more frequently–for the next 4-6 weeks.

I’ve dedicated this week to cards received from Love Notes partners and friends.

Today’s post features gorgeous artwork and beautiful messages from my latest Love Notes (LN) partner, Zotis K of Sunnyside, New York. Here are the cards and notes she sent  in response to prompts for LN 33 which ended late October.

Art by Zotis K

Prompt 1: Give me just a second…

Give me just a second…to decipher what has happened. We are going through many struggles, struggles that all of us are sharing now. Under this lockdown we’ve been given: time to heal – time to share – time to adjust – time to accept – time to be with loved ones – time to care for one another – time to give thanks for the blessings of being given one more day – time to create – time to call and listen to a friend or neighbor or a family member in need of comfort – time to develop skills we didn’t know we had – time to establish some form of peace and understanding. From now on, let’s just save time for ourselves because “we” are important too.

Art by Zotis K

Prompt 2: Release

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.  –Maya Angelou
Just breathe and release.

Art by Zotis K

Prompt 3: In this moment…

Be thankful for a breath of fresh air to be alive and well. Allow love and happiness to penetrate throughout your mind and soul. Take time to relax and live in the moment, the now, the present. Enjoy today. –Amaka Imani Nkosazana

These cards/messages rescued me from some crazy-busy moments and reminded me to take a second to pause and reset. Maybe, they’ll do the same for you.


Love Notes Postcard Project: In case you haven’t heard, Love Notes is a postcard project coordinated by Jennifer Belthoff that “encourages slowing down, getting back to basics, and connecting through handwritten notes sent through the mail.” Participants sign up for the swap on Jennifer’s website and then she assigns partners who correspond with each other for three weeks based on a prompt she provides each Sunday. The swap is hosted quarterly (four times per year).

NaBloPoMo Note: I didn’t do NaBloPoMo this year, but you can always scroll down to the archives to read my November 2016, 2017, 2018, and 2019 posts. I can’t remember any of the posts, but I’m sure there’s lots of eye-candy. 😀

Fluent

I would love to live
Like a river flows,
Carried by the surprise
Of its own unfolding.

John O’Donohue, “Fluent,” Conamara Blues

Scraps of Poetry and Madness

My creative energy has been extremely high the last few days, but since  I’m working feverishly to meet a deadline for work, there’s been little time to benefit from that energy. I felt a little like Virginia Woolf this weekend, so late Friday night just before slipping into dream land, I took a moment to make doodle art in her honor.

One of these will become a postcard. The only problem is I don’t know which one I like best, so you get to choose.

Vote below!

Thanks for voting! Be sure to take some time to doodle this week!

Coping with the Madness of 2020: Pray

If I practiced none of the other coping strategies I wrote about in the “coping” series, I might be okay, but the one thing that saves my sanity, my life, and probably the lives of a few others is prayer. In fact, journaling, creating, shutting it down, listingsleeping, and spending time with trees, would have little effect if I did not pray.

So I pray. I pray. I pray. I pray.

I’m not talking about begging and bargaining, though I’m pretty sure I’ve attempted some of that  this year. Instead, I’m talking about being in communion with God, listening for/to His voice, and doing my best to respond to the madness of 2020 and life in general  in ways that honor Him, deepen my trust in Him, and elevate my consciousness.

I am not overstating when I say prayer has kept me sane.

There are few words to describe our collective trauma this year, and I can’t say that I haven’t wondered or asked “why?” from time to time. But God is absolutely sovereign, so I try in all things to yield to His will–no matter how unfair, unreasonable, or impossible circumstances seem to me.

Moving toward prayer during difficult times challenges everything in me. It calls me out of self-centeredness, moves me away from my desires, and pushes me to higher levels of God-consciousness and light. The outcome is beautiful, but the work to get there isn’t pretty.

Moments like the ones 2020 has presented us with are tolerable and livable only when I am in constant contact, when my focus is heavenward and not on this tiny difficult moment. While I may not know the beginning from the end, prayer firms up hope and gives me a glimpse of the beautiful possibilities. For all of us.


Gracias: Thank you for joining me for the seven-part “Coping with the Madness of 2020” series.  If you’re interested, you can find a few more tips in two posts I wrote six years ago–different circumstances, but they still work: Getting Through the Crazies, Part I and Getting Through the Crazies, Part II.

And thanks to my friend Charmaine whose yellow iris is featured at the top of this post. I have difficulty shooting irises and expected little from the shots. This one turned out to be one of the favorites among those I shot from her garden. Who knew?