Category Archives: longing

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Forgiveness

Rumi writes about the wound being where the light gets in. Leonard Cohen says the cracks are where the light gets in. My poems about being reborn or changed seem to involve either burning or the sea. I wrote this in 2009.

Forgiveness

I want to forgive something
Someone
In fact a group
Something that hurt a lot
I’ve tried logic
I tell myself
“It was an expression of concern”

My heart doesn’t agree
It is sullen
Immobile and grumpy
It whispers
“They have not apologized”
It whispers
“When people say you’re crazy
It could be a joke
An expression of concern
It wasn’t
It was a palm held out
At arm’s length
To distance me.”

My head argues
“That’s what it felt like to you.
You don’t know their intentions.”

I want to write
A poem of forgiveness
Hoping my heart will follow

My conscious doesn’t write my poems
My conscious wrestles with an idea
The poem comes out of this struggle
I look at the poem I’ve written
I think,
“That is what I would like
my conscious heart to feel.”
My poem is often more generous
than my conscious feels

My poems are not mine
They are a gift
From the unconscious
It is much larger
Than the small conscious me
I dream of feeling envy
I climb into a bathtub
And transform myself
To battle a trickster
We are transported
To the bottom of the ocean

In the ocean
The trickster and I are one
It is unlimited
It is not my unconscious
There is no separation
It is all unconscious

I did not think
A poem would give forgiveness
But pain drove me
Into the sea
I am connected
You gave me these pearls
Thank you

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: crack.

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Wild

I keep wondering at the stubborn part of me that will not let go.
 That wants to reconcile with all, no matter what they’ve done.
 I go inside, deep and deeper, in the depths all is slow.
 That part is the holy part that longs for the One.
 I have been told to let go of things, forget, no more longing.
 But the longing is a sacred place, a longing for the Beloved.
 I think that excising it would be a horrid evil wronging.
 Handle gently, with care, with love, and gently gloved.
 I meet someone who says, “You are very in touch with your inner child.”
 I know it’s not a compliment, I smile and pay little mind.
 My Child is my connection to the Beloved, fierce and mild.
 Jealous judging rolls right off, people can be unkind.
 I won’t excise the holy core, the Beloved inner child.
 I feel the Beloved’s laughing play and joy, heart running wild.

_________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: realize.

https://www.playingforchange.com/videos/words-of-wonder-get-up-stand-up-song-around-the-world

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Expert level

No, Elwha has not been found. I have lots of photographs. He was a funny cat. Ate too much and then tried to trade toys for food when I decreased what I fed him. He loved boxes and he loved tummy rubs. He seemed to think about food, tummy rubs and sleep, mostly. He would like to catch birds. He was not sedentary but was expert level at relaxing.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: sedentary.

The song is by the Yes Yes Boys: Everybody’s Crazy About the Doggone Blues. I think Elwha would like it.

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Safe/Not Safe

I think safety is an illusion. BUT it is also nice to feel safe and embrace the illusion.

I sleep best in tents, because as a child, I felt safest at our families “shacks on a lake” in Ontario. Cabins, but pretty much one room cabins. No electricity, outhouses, and my family lived in tents. I loved it. I was more afraid of people than bears.

The pandemic, or this pandemic, has made people feel less safe. But that safety was an illusion too. I had influenza in 2003 and was out sick for two months. I had a racing heart and it hurt to breathe. No asthma. Only rest seemed to help. My doctor and I had no idea when it would resolve. It resolved after two months. My partners accused me of malingering and lying.

A fast heart rate can come from a panic attack, but it works the other way too. If your heart rate is very fast, you may feel panicky. When I nebulize people with albuterol for the first time, I warn them that it may feel like adrenaline, it may speed their heart and they might feel panicky. A friend with Long Covid kept saying that maybe they were just anxious. I got them to have an Urgent Care test them: a resting and a walking heart rate. At rest 72 beats per minute. Normal. Walking, their heart rate jumped to 165, very abnormal! Normal is 70-100 beats per minute, though if one is out of shape, 110 or 120 can result from unaccustomed exercise. But there is no way an athlete in their 20s should jump to 165. The Long Covid heart rate was driving the anxiety, not the other way around.

After I had the 2003 influenza, I read a book of essays about the 1918-1921 influenza pandemic. And I realized that we would probably have a pandemic in my lifetime. I thought it would be influenza, not coronavirus! Hopefully the world will learn a little from this one and change a little over time and be a little more sane if (ok, when) there is another pandemic.

I saw this video today. Wow, what costumes (all 1970s) and dancing! Wonderful! And such a sad song about a broken friendship that used to feel safe.

I hope that you have places or people that you feel safe with. Elwha sometimes likes to sit in the cat tent, even if it is partly open. It feels safe.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: safe.

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Refusing to yearn

Today I refuse categorically to yearn
I miss stupid things: that you rise early too
still this morning it’s annoying to learn
no one to talk to at the hour of stupid, no you
Impatient with my feelings, I wish you ill
hope you wake and want to whine and moan
hope you wake early and feel over the hill
but have to be quiet and grouse all alone
hope your mind buzzes like a hive of grumpy bees
while you spy on the internet and feel superior
hope you gather more facts piled like logged trees
and wonder why the piles don’t make you merrier
I hope you slowly open and become aware
you think you know everything and nobody cares

_____________________________

Sol Duc is playing a game alone, capturing her back foot with her front, claws out on both. When she realizes I am watching, she puts her head down and pretends to be asleep. She isn’t asleep, I can tell by the claws and the ear tilt.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: yearn.

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Daily Evil: L is for Longing

Is longing evil? I don’t know. Rumi writes that all longing is longing for being reunited with the Beloved and is a form of prayer. I think that is gorgeous.

L is also for Lake. This is a 9 by 12 inch watercolor, dated 1991. I don’t know the title. This is Lake Matinenda in Ontario, north of Michigan. My grandparents bought land there and we went up in the summers year after year. I have not been there since 2018 because of Covid and distance. I do know that stretch of shoreline.

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Race

Embiggen my heart, Beloved
Embiggen all the hearts in all the people
so when they see race on a form,
they write “human” and mean it.
The distinctions fall away.
We are not afraid any more
that another human is other
and will take something away from us.
We each slide over on the crowded bus
and say, “Here. There is room for you, here.”

____________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: embiggen.

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Conspiracy is easier than vulnerability and grief

“Our culture faces a flood of conspiracism” says the Atlantic Monthly.

My great Uncle forwards an article that says we are tracking along stages as we did to WWII.

I write back. No, I say, we are tracking towards WWI.

Because of Covid-19.

The problem with the pandemic is vulnerability and grief. It is difficult to be mature enough to accept vulnerability and grief. It is easier to find someone to blame and go after them. We can’t burn a virus, we can’t hang it in effigy, we can’t take it to court and give it the death penalty. Many people are terrified and do not want to feel vulnerable and do not want to grieve. So they fall into conspiracies: it is safer to believe that the pandemic is a lie, that alien lizards have taken over the US Government, that it is the fault of a country making it on purpose, or a race, or a religion. It is easier to believe that nanocomputers are being injected with the vaccine than to think about the number of dead. It is easier not to think about the number of dead, the terrifying randomness, to believe that this only affects people with preexisting conditions, or people who God wants to smite, or people the lizard aliens hate. Or that the whole thing is a lie.

We are mimicing the late 19 teens and early 1920s very well. A world pandemic. We have a war, that is not a world war. This time we have bombs capable of destroying current life on earth. We’d be left with tardigrades and those bacteria who live in the deep trenches in boiling water where the earth’s crust is thin. At least one of my friends thinks this might be a good thing.

We have just reached 8 billion people.

In London, the Black Death had a 50% kill rate in the 1400s. Half the people that got it died. It changed the world. Pandemics change the world. In this pandemic the death rate is about 1% or a little more. However, 10% to 30% of the people with Covid-19 have Long Covid. Today, Johns Hopkins says we are at 635 million people who have gotten Covid-19. 6.6 million or more are dead from it. Then we have between 65 million and 195 million people with Long Covid in the world.

We don’t know how long Long Covid lasts. We don’t know how to cure it. We do not know if we can cure it or if people will get better. We do not know, we do not know, we do not know.

Which is also terrifying. So the conspiracy and someone to hate or some group to hate or someone to fight is safer for many people.

Do not go there. We must grieve. We must help each other. We must face fear and not give in to it. We must not fall into the trap of the charismatic leader who will give us villains, who will lead us into a World War to distract us from our grief.

And from there into a world depression. Remember, the Roaring Twenties end with the worst depression the world has seen so far. Let us not repeat it, let us not beat it.

Peace you and blessings.