Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Finding this tag in a wet parking lot reminded me all over again why I do not like The Velveteen Rabbit. There are parts of it that are lovely, of course, but it has always bothered me that the rabbit was left behind by the child. Left in the rainy yard, alone, steeping in the forgetfulness of its child-owner. At least, that is how i remember it. Yet, as I know, love prevails...and it is love that makes us Real...and sometimes becoming Real hurts.
As an adult, I understand something of the difficult honor that love is, and that ultimately, yes, Love is whole making, and it draws me on toward the unknown wonder of what is ahead, and that Love is home and hard and liberating and consoling and ah and wow and tears and silence and laughter and letting go...and profoundly Real.
Dinosaurs were real once...and if you ask a child, they might still be. I think that's fantastic...
Long live Love, and long live little Gabriel and his dreams, wherever he may be.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
This window is in the public library I found in the town where I am staying...it is a window out, and a window in... A window in toward a familiar warmth of surroundings, good sockets, and free wifi...helpful people, a pleasant buzz of quiet chatter, and the occasional papery flick as a story progresses. A window out, beyond range of my sight and reach of my arms.
It has not been a good day, in spite of varying interpretations of what that might mean. Though, I can also say that gratitude fills the writing I did this morning. Gratitude for the love and accompaniment of friends who are with me on this journey, gratitude for the extraordinary love of God that wraps me in the fragrant steam of bergamot that rises from the Earl Grey I held earlier to warm my hands and spirit.
I yearn to see beyond on days like this...to see past the moment while also being present to the moment, reminding myself of both "here I am" and "there also I will be." ... to know with the deep sigh of knowing that things might not be better or nice or done up neat and tidy there either.
...and to be okay with that, to say Amen and thank you and go forward with wafts of bergamot steaming gently at my fingertips.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
The Life of the Word
Not long ago,
two moments passed.
My poem spoke in Spanish,
(I had no idea it could),
while a neighboring thought
broke free of its paper cocoon,
versifying in a widening spiral,
dizzying itself and drawing in those who would listen
until all we could do was delight
in the washing-over smear of colors,
in the carbonated crackle of Life.