Sometimes you hear a voice through the door
calling you, as fish out of water
hear the waves, or a hunting falcon
hears the drum’s Come back. Come back.
This turning toward what you deeply love
saves you. Read the book of your life,
which has been given you.
A voice comes to your soul saying,
Lift your foot. Cross over.
Move into emptiness
of question and answer and question.
Somehow, it is that you are here, on this page, on this day, in this space. What longing has brought you here?
This life, these times, are indeed difficult and exciting times. Sadly, as a culture, as a profession, as human beings, we have spent too much time trying to figure out and fix what is wrong with us. What little time we have spent intentionally noticing, watering, and allowing the living life force that moves in all of us, to reach for life, as a fiddlehead fern in the spring. Too often, there has been little encouragement or guidance for stepping more and more into seeing/hearing/touching the very substances within our being that move toward authentic and mature expression of our own unique and visionary soul gifts. What little guidance we have had to recognize or utilize the wisdom within the mirrors that rise before us: from the earth and her beings, from the synchronicities that surprise us, from echoes we sense reverberating in our own hearts, from images that inspire, feed, or carry us on, even from unexpected beings that cross our path. Living a full authentic adult life means no longer refusing, rather wholly claiming who we are, individually and collectively, as part of a larger living system of earth, of the universe. It is exciting and inspiring to live now, a time when consciousness is exploding, when awareness is deepening. It is a time when we are reconnecting with the wisdom of the earth, with the ones who have gone before us, with truths held in stone and the roots of traditions, with our own ability to know and connect on deep levels.
One thread of the tapestry in my offering is spun from earth and wind, from wilderness and flowing rivers, from tracks and tracking mystery. We come to gather up the crumbs that have been left along our paths, the golden nuggets we have held on to. We note the marks in the grass where the antelope lay and the shimmering of the young pine in the meadow. We wander on land, touch and are touched by beauty, decay, and transformation. We carry unseen staffs from Hazelwood or river stones or the ones who have gone before. Developing and nurturing deeper connections with earth, with her natural rhythms, with the beings, other than human, that are sustained by her, are integral parts of our own recovery, claiming our own voice, power, and place on this earth and with one another.
Woven into my work, into the paths I walk with others, is poetry as a vehicle to soul. Poetry so often speaks the language of the soul. Poetry can be a powerful portal to one’s interior world, to one’s longings. It can open to a depth of intimacy not experienced before. It can inflame, enliven, awaken, and call forth. It is a tremendous venue for deep work.