Chaos as Recovery

Let Chaos Be

A palimpsest on Let Evening Come by Jane Kenyon

(Palimpsest: a manuscript or piece of writing on which the original writing has been effaced to make room for later writing but of which traces remain; using the bones of the original writing as the basis and springboard for the new piece).

 

Let tongues wag 140
characters on Twitter feeds,
#hashtag words rife knife.

Let emotions loose
like mice in a field with summer
on their feet. Let chaos be.

Let red and blue placards sprout
from neighbors’ lawns. Let fake news
rupture the resounding silence.

Let traffic snarl. Let road rage.
Let the hurricane rip down Main Street.
Let chaos be.

To the microphones on podiums,
to televised debates, to Instagram photos
let chaos be.

Let it be, as it explodes. Fearless.
A cyclone that carries us blessedly beyond our own
front porch, so let chaos be.

Life as art

Fireflies and Fiddleheads

Rain and Rust

 

Between all the self-talk —
fiddleheads
and yearning for a potato chip.

If only I could paint this time
between rain and rust
how would that look?

Once I was a river wild,
whiskey notes, and
summer squalls bending light.

The day you asked
I could not explain
in search of some moment.

Despite all the doubts
it was worth the while
it takes to see fireflies

In the words you whispered,
wearing my wounds,
and the distance of blue.

AG ~ May 2016

A Sunday Stoll In The Rain

 

“You Are Loved”

Tucked into a sunny yellow pitcher-vase filled with fern, dainty caramel-colored roses, daisy-like chrysanthemums with lime green centers and wisps of goldenrod in bud came the simple note:

“You are loved”.

I am blessed for this and more friendship and family love, support  and humor than I can possibly describe. For me, in between all the wonderful pitchers of flowers, poems, painting, dishes and such come periods and visits with depression. I am a person who sees the glass more than half full – someone who is filled with wonder at the sighting of acorns and oaks, moss and lichen on winter-wood, early morning dew and waves on the beach, profanity, profundity and poetry – i.e. all of life. And yet, I too can slip into dark periods best explained as close to hiding in a damp shadowy cave. Depression is not a state of mind or mood swing. It’s a physical and painful emotional state when your vitality or life force is ripped away, and all hope and humor disappears. You lose control of an objective rational approach to problem solving, your literal and figurative appetite and plain living. Sylvia Plath’s bell jar decends and from under its glass your inner and outer vision are distorted. Thankfully my times of depression are not as severe as many others, and I now know that an end is surely in sight. Depression can visit unexpectedly as well as build slowly and steadily. It is fairly common, democratic and browbeats at varying degrees.

I share all of this now, because it goes along with sharing the sun-yellow roses, poetry and paintings. It is life as a tapestry – well worn yet more beloved for its wear and tear and frayed edges.

Wabi-Wabi revisited.

To all my friends and family from my youth through new arrivals on the horizon – thank you always for the flower bouquets coming from your hearts and your compassionate understanding.

~

under-painting with blue brush strokes a tender portrait

IMG_4248

IMG_1854

 

Mindful Writing ~ 2015:15

Space For The Pain.

Funny thing how the heart works.  And how the mind works to “protect” the heart from pain and in doing so – damages at the same time.  We fight against heartbreak even on the most simple levels, and yet in the healing of inevitable heartache, if we allow it, there is a new space – a space for the pain.  Not the searing knife-like spasms of grief, but the more nuanced pangs of loss and letting go.  The mind no longer fights the pain, and thus releases the need for an ever open wound.

“What you resist persists.”   “When you yield you heal.”

That’s what I mean by “space for the pain.”  The pain does not go away completely, however it is like a wise elder who nods with a knowing that it’s all part of the plan.  It’s all for the good.

spaciousness
nature’s window into
a knowing heart

ag ~ 2014

Dark Knight of the Soul

Holiday blues? Feeling rushed, stressed or depressed? I’ve got the drink for you! It warms inside and out and based on the go-to potion of the Mayans who knew a thing or more about the bitter, sweet and spice of life.

It’s a mix of 70% dark chocolate, cinnamon and cayenne pepper! Heat milk (preferably low-fat organic) or almond, hazelnut even coconut milk, stir in the mix and pour into a warm and beautiful earthen-wear mug. It is very rich so a little goes a long way to lift your spirits and boost your energy.

I purchased a bag of this pre-mixed and aptly named “Mayan Hot Drinking Chocolate” from SciasciaConfections.com or 215-996-0606.

I prefer to call this heart-warming drink of the gods – “Dark Knight of the Soul”. Truly a healing balm for the dark nights and cold days.

Fractures

Petals of Light

Ice casts and splints
on tree limbs
shatter yet sparkle
their last light
and melt into snow.

Ison, the comet that hurled
toward our mother star
splinters yet freckles
fragments of light
and melts into sun.

Paper Whites
on a windowsill
flake yet fragrance
petals of light
and melt into breath.

A giving heart
in many a bosom
grieves yet ripens
a healing light 
and melts into moon and the dark of night.

ag ~ December 2013

When It’s Gone… It’s Gone.

When It’s Gone – It’s Gone.

This terse piece of wisdom
is inscribed on the top of a tea tin.
It therein refers to the last cup
of a limited edition.

I felt sad reading it.
I had just come upon a photo
of my friend and me smiling
at the camera and the world.
Now she’s gone.

I took the tea from her home
on my last visit to say goodbye.
It was a pomegranate blend 
however, I just read the tin top for the first time.

It is exactly one year since her memorial.
The year of firsts without her 
has now come and gone.
She is once again 
sending me a clear message.

Like the white flickering tail of a doe
bounding off into the brush
When it’s gone – it’s gone.
AHO*

*A closing or blessing from the Native American Tradition that can be translated as “and so it is.” 

another goodbye on the horizon coyotes howl

ag ~ 10/13/13