Monday, June 25, 2012

Discovering Dorothy Walters

Still Life

Original Language English

     The rose that no longer blooms in the garden,
     blooms inside her whole body, among the veins
     and organs and the skeleton.
               -- Linda Gregg

A hidden blossoming.
Petals flaming beneath the skin.
And a softness pressing,
as delicate as the mouth
of a blind lover.

Each movement,
each quiet gesture
a rosary in the blood.
Was it desire
which brought her to this moment,
this arrival at source,
or was it merely a need
to be still, to be richly fed
from this fountain
of dark silence.
-- from Marrow of Flame : Poems of the Spiritual Journey, by Dorothy Walters

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Ode to Wild Rumpus

Dearest Maurice,

I found my empty clothing basket underneath the stair.
I do not know who put it there or why, but instead of worrying about the details, I climbed inside. 

And I cried. 

I wept because I have lost something precious, but I can't remember what it was or where to find it.

I wept because the wild places are like echoing chambers.

I wailed then, after all of the years of wondering where one goes to really, truly wail.

After a short long while, the tears ceased flowing the way tired tears do. The space in the basket grew cramped and crying is weary-making anyhow. I heard the sound of a steady pitter-patter and wondered about that. 

Perhaps an afternoon shower? Or the house cat on the step that creaks? Maybe the neighbor boy playing rat-a-tat in the basement next door?

The sound grew louder and the beat swirled inside my head. Thoughts, like things, lassoed and tied. 

Rhythm, crisp as a cymbal, steady as a tabla, and wide as my heart. 

I began to keep time with a toe, first. The whole foot joined in. Suddenly both feet found the beat and just like that, a rippling rise erupted. 

I rose because I have lost something precious and I can't remember what it was or where to find it.

I rose because the wild places are like echoing chambers.

I rose then, after all of the years of wondering where one might go to really, truly rise.

Maurice, I just wanted you to know.

Copyright 2012. Original writing by Jenny Baxley Lee. 

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Welcome Turning Point

Source: www.turningpointweb.jpg

Good morning. Sitting still this morning, I observed my friends, 'SEEKING' and 'STRIVING'. I greeted them as they are both quite familiar to me and invited them to rest awhile. 

Source: windmill-energy.jpg
I find true pleasure in a cool spell this spring. The brisk air is a refreshing surprise in late April in Florida. I breathe in deeply, listening to the bright bird song in the canopy of trees outside. I notice the filtering of sunlight casting shadows on tree trunks. Arriving in this moment, what I earnestly seek is a return to true nature; in the I Ching, I receive #24 RETURN, "natural movement that arises spontaneously, making transformation of the old easy". I sense arrival at a Turning Point. I bow my head.

"After a time of decay comes 
the turning point.
The powerful light that has 
been banished returns. 
There is movement, but it is not 
brought about by force."