And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.
—
No man is an island by John Donne
Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile – the winds –
To a heart in port –
Done with the compass –
Done with the chart!
Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the sea!
Might I moor – Tonight –
In thee!
*
Wild Nights—Wild Nights! (249) by Emily Dickinson
Good-bye
A woman with a scarf over her head hoists her six-year-old up onto the first step of the school bus. “Good-bye,” she says.
A father on the phone with his freshman son has just finished bawling him out for his poor grades. There is mostly silence at the other end of the line. “Well, good-bye,” the father says.
When the girl at the airport hears the announcement that her plane is starting to board, she turns to the boy who is seeing her off. “I guess this is good-bye,” she says.
The noise of the traffic almost drowns out the sound of the word, but the shape of it lingers on the old man’s lips. He tries to look vigorous and resourceful as he holds out his hand to the other old man. “Good-bye.” This time they say it so nearly in unison that it makes them both smile.
It was a long while ago that the words God be with you disappeared into the word good-bye, but every now and again some trace of them still glimmers through.
~Frederick Buechner originally published in Whistling in the Dark and later in Beyond Words
I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Today is the day. As this blog ends I am so grateful for these past years.
I will creating new things. I believe in poetry….it is foundational in my life and healing.
I will do at least one last post to redirect those interested to my new spaces in the world.
I leave you with a most exciting quote from my friend Peter Block:
Every time we walk into a room the future walks in with us!
Our survival adaptations are so tough, but our wounds are so delicate. To heal, we have to lift the armor carefully- it saved our lives, after all. It’s like moving your best friend off to the side of the path. You don’t trample on her, you don’t hit her with a sledgehammer. You honor her presence like a warm blanket that has kept you safe and sound during wintry times. And then, when the moment is right, you get inside and stitch your wounds with the thread of love, slowly and surely, not rushing to completion, nurturing as you weave, tender and true. The healing process has a heart of its own, moving at its own delicate pace. We are such wondrous weavers…
💞
– Jeff Brown
TO STAND HERE
is to stand
at the center
of circle
after growing circle
and reach
in the mind
for a far circumference
that holds as focus
an interior so far in
so concentrated
with origin
we find ourselves
by looking out
at what looks back,
the lighted edge
of rock and sky,
the sweet
unmoving darkness
over the horizon
that makes
a perfect
beckoning symmetry
to the night
beneath our feet,
the underground
where light cannot live
but whose darkness
makes a ground
on which to stand.
The central
ancestral story
of those who
lived here
looking out
at the same horizon
and the same
surrounding
ground,
who saw a world
that witnessed them
at a privileged
center,
their lives caught
like ours
in the glance
of what lies beyond
only
for a fleeting
moment.
…
From LON’S FORT
From Pilgrim: Poems by David Whyte
Refuse to fall down
If you cannot refuse to fall down,
refuse to stay down.
If you cannot refuse to stay down,
lift your heart toward heaven,
and like a hungry beggar,
ask that it be filled.
You may be pushed down.
You may be kept from rising.
But no one can keep you from lifting your heart
toward heaven
only you.
It is in the middle of misery
that so much becomes clear.
The one who says nothing good
came of this,
is not yet listening.
–Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will.
– Mahatma Gandhi
I’m not here to live up to your expectations and you’re not here to live up to mine.
and all this glory burning hot.
there’s this holy hushing
songs of angels,
a chorus of bluebells
bowing heads
softly clapping
as they watch it all approaching.
there’s this first blush of light,
smudging darkness,
a bit like the bitter and sweet
mixed each day with our longing
for joy to come nest.
there’s a song playing on low
sometimes you forget to remember
be still and know
as sure as spring follows winter
love always wins
listen to your heartbeat
joy is our birthright
right now
morning has come
🌞
Amy Lloyd (AL)
It could happen any time, tornado,
earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.
Or sunshine, love, salvation.
It could, you know. That’s why we wake
and look out — no guarantees
in this life.
But some bonuses, like morning,
like right now, like noon,
like evening.
Yes!
-William Stafford
At times, our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.
Falling in love
It’s an ending no tale wants to tell
Girl and boy
Drifting farther
And farther apart
Now she lives in the house of broken dreams
pictures fade
Time stands still
All the shadows standing in their places
Cracks appear
Clock feebly striking on through the gloom
As the tears fall down her face
It’s all just the way it all was then
Just the same as the day when life broke
30 years ago
although lots of things have gathered
into every available surface and corner
Dust falls down
Settling on fading glitter
Grime on glass
Fogging up the window panes
mold grows free
covering years of freeform piles
She still smiles that painted smile
You can’t see the lonely spaces
when you meet her on the street
Life moves on and on without her
It’s illusion that you see
Because she lives in the house of broken dreams
pictures fade
Time stands still
All the shadows standing in their places
Cracks appear
Clock strikes weakly at each hour
As the tears fall down her face
It’s the ending no reader wants to read
Girl and boy
Drifting farther
And farther apart
until he leaves
and she fights
to get something she can keep forever
as she always dreamed it would be
Never letting go
Never moving on
It’s the hardest part
Nobody wants to read this ending
This extreme dirty secret behind estate gates
stone lions eternally guarding
heartbreak frozen in time
hoarding only she can stop
💨
Amy Lloyd (AL)
If you have a dream, don’t just sit there. Gather courage to believe that you can succeed and leave no stone unturned to make it a reality.
– Roopleen
“I have a firm belief in this now, not only in terms of my own experience, but in knowing the experiences of other people. When you follow your bliss, and by bliss I mean the deep sense of being in it, and doing what the push is out of your own existence—it may not be fun, but it’s your bliss and there’s bliss behind pain too.
“You follow that and doors will open where there were no doors before, where you would not have thought there’d be doors, and where there wouldn’t be a door for anybody else.
“. . . And so I think the best thing I can say is to follow your bliss. If your bliss is just your fun and your excitement, you’re on the wrong track. I mean, you need instruction. Know where your bliss is. And that involves coming down to a deep place in yourself.”
Joseph Campbell, “The Hero’s Journey”
When the geese in their skeined wedge take another enchanted voyage across the endless blue
When we wake up to this new day
loving life in spite of all that has gone before
When the one who loves us allows us joy in our exile
until we are ready to break our silent bread
When we allow the challenging heaviness of our limiting beliefs to enter into our arena wrestling until we have achieved Olympic gold
When we trust the great freedom of what has brought us to this very moment
When the wine of our heart
in it’s purest burgundy of bubbling merry or deepest sorrow
pours clear and jeweled in its crushing
When we give away freely our best crimson to everyone we meet at this royal wedding
When we finally recognize the truth that there is no journey of arriving
there is simply life
this grandest celebration of skin touching skin
the sharing of moments
the wonder of storytelling
the ancient ancestral linage of our tree-relations
the wonder of teaching and tasting and exploring
coffee and kisses and learning any odd/old/new thing with the ones you love
then we have arrived at our true work
the why we have sought so desperately to uncover for so long
lying crumpled and useless in the trash can
as we, a bit drunk, on our own exquisite vintage
make love to the world in blissful ecstasy
shhhh…there are new songs playing
listen…
just listen…
to that saxophone…
In this world
I’m so glad there is you
🎷
Amy Lloyd (AL)
No matter how dark the clouds seem, they are only clouds. The sun is always shining, the sky is always light blue. The clouds are just droplets of water, gathered together to tease people who don’t remember the truth.
I gave myself permission to feel and experience all of my emotions. In order to do that, I had to stop being afraid to feel. In order to do that, I taught myself to believe that no matter what I felt or what happened when I felt it, I would be okay. – Iyanla Vanzant
I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
“Live in the layers,
not on the litter.”
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
📝
The Layers by Stanley Kunitz
there are people and places
which live inside me
I feel them
as I spin the kaleidoscope wheel
they come into focus
moments
smells
textures
visuals
each hold exquisite love
each hold delicately intense, brutal, suffering
each hold ruthless trust,
radical hope,
extreme faith,
continual healing.
each person,
each place a threshold
of practical practice,
of growth and becoming,
of wrestling with letting go,
of spiritual teaching towards love,
of defending my tenderness,
of stepping into ‘I am’,
of allowing myself,
of removing the toxic tarter buildup of my own soul,
of seeing glimpses of the unlimited, ever-unfolding mystery.
Yeah, so, the past month has been an intense one for me in every way. A bit emotionally brutal. We can all relate, I’m sure. It’s shown me a lot of new things about myself, also revealed some new glimpses of this mystical mystery named, so simply, “Love,” in our language.
I’ve been a student of the nature of Love for the past 7 years, which doesn’t seem very long, now that I write it down, but, I have to report, just this short time of study, it has changed me in every area of my life.
My studies are always, first and foremost, practical. To me nothing I ‘believe’ is worth anything if it does not actually work in my living to bring me healing, make me a better human, remove my baggage to reveal my highest and best self, lead me into paths of peace and load my arms with fruit to share with fellow pilgrims along the way…and, so, I began by asking God to reveal what love was and how love worked.
My first flash came in 2009, riding on a CT commuter train from New Haven to Branford, looking at the marsh fly by. I had been asking for some days, intensely seeking, when God showed himself to me as ‘LOVE.’ That brief instant changed everything for me. I experienced the Aleph of The Mystery and left that train, completely changed a flash or, in real time less than 30 minutes…
Many wonderful writers have helped me along this open-ended, unlimited path of discovery on this topic. I must give much beautiful credit to Henri Nouwen, who helped me early on in my excavation of this topic. His revelations, and life surrendered to this mystery, have inspired much learning in my own voyage on this simple, yet so radical, path.
Over these years, I felt lead to share some of my tiny bits of insight with others – it has just been so amazing! So beautiful! So everything – I just wanted others to open to it as well, to learn and heal along with me! Over these years I have learned to be a writer and a poet. Until recently I didn’t feel I could claim those ‘titles,’ but I do now, just another way love has changed me. I am so grateful.
This brings us to yesterday, which brings us to Frederick Buechner’s 90th birthday! Buechner is one of the best, most beautiful, writers ever. Sometimes I stop breathing when I read his words. I won’t say more, at this moment, as this is becoming a very long post, but here’s my best advice: read him!
Recently someone, somewhere, on Facebook, posted words by poet, Fred LaMotte. They deeply touched me and so I ‘friended’ him. Then he began posting his words and I found myself on Amazon ordering one of his books. I received it last week, and it has been moving me into some very deep waters.
Yeah, so, back to yesterday, I re-posted a happy birthday write-up about Buechner and then…
I got this comment from Fred LaMotte:
He was the reason I became a teacher and a school chaplain. When I was a 10th grader at Exeter Academy (near Boston) he was the school chaplain. It was before he became a writer. One dreary morning in late Winter, we were 700 half asleep boys in morning ‘Chapel’ (it was just an assembly really), and decided to read to us. He read the entire 7th chapter of ‘The Wind In The Willows,’ ‘Piper at the Gates of Dawn.’ It was very long and I think I might have been the only one stayed awake. It was amazing. Not only did it show me my first real piece of spiritual writing, but I thought, “Wow! This is his job? Reading to people about the great God Pan? I want to do this!” Thank you Frederick Buechner.
💞
WOW!! Then Fred LaMotte shared that chapter of the Wind and the Willows, ya know, the one that inspired some pretty intense poetry, which is, at this moment plowing up some new fields in my back forty…
I have not read The Wind in the Willows since I was a teenager, and, at that time I remember thinking it was rather stupid. My thoughts being something like, ‘Good grief, what in the heck is this about?’
Yesterday, I finally ‘got it!’ I broke down. I took my shoes off and bowed to the glory. Yesterday, a gift of love I offered was returned to me, unaccepted. I ‘got it!’ I broke down. I took my shoes off and bowed to the glory. There’s no right or wrong here, just gift. I choose to be only grateful to continue on in the, ‘yes and amen!’ of it all.
I have no idea what Love (God) will teach me next. I am a very humble beginner. No Master here. Just a girl who cannot believe how lucky I am to be on this narrow road. A very unlikely pilgrim, I. Always wearing inappropriate shoes for climbing these steep hills, but somehow, always getting the view of the most beautiful sunsets imaginable. I guess it’s true what Babe Ruth said, ‘You can’t beat a man who keeps getting up!’
Here’s a song I wrote for my children’s musical about my life of faith, named: The Fantastical Inside-Out-Upside-Down Journey of a Rich Little Poor Girl
You Otter Know (verses spoken in the style of Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked by Cage the Elephant/choruses in Sinatra style)
I was walking in the forest
I was feeling all alone
The birds and bees were sleeping,
the weeping willow weeping
Then I heard a little creature
Start moving oh so slow
and the little brook began to play
music with its toes
the woodpecker was keeping time
upon that tall oak tree
and I could not help start dancing
cause I knew it was for me
and as I whirled and twirled about
I came upon a log
and the beaver and the otter (Frank Sinatra style Beaver. Sammy Davis Otter)
were acting more like hogs (pushing each other to get to the log stage with microphone)
and then they each began to croon
they’re words were oh so rare
I stood there for a moment
my foot still in the air
and they sang to me…
You otter know I love you
loved you from the start
(if you’ll beaver me
then I’ll beaver you
You never walk alone)
You otter know I love you
love your precious heart
(beaver me it’s true
I’ve always loved you
You’re never far from home)
and the band it just kept playing
and my happy heart did gasp
Cause this was so much better
than that silly talking a**
uhhh donkey
Then my heart it felt so happy
and my eyes at last could see
That though I hadn’t been aware
You’d never once left me
and as I danced on down that path
I swear I sang this song
The one my friends had written,
which had been there all along
and I sang…
You otter know I love you
loved you from the start
(if you’ll beaver me
then I’ll beaver you
You never walk alone)
You otter know I love you
love your precious heart
(beaver me it’s true
I’ve always loved you
You’re never far from home
💞
AL
Ephesians 1:4
Even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes.
New Living Translation
You don’t have to melt
until you are ready.
Remember this:
Each moil of your unoiled joints,
every numb stiff gristle of resistance,
cramp of anger, clabber of shame,
clot of envy, opinion or belief,
is simply a mass of refusal
contracted into “me,”
a particle afraid to waltz
with its field, a wave
that will not settle to its sea,
a sky who thinks it is a cloud,
Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
life: acoustic & amplified 