Life is not a straight line. It's a downpour of gifts, please – hold out your hand

Thank you for being here. I'm so glad you're here.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007



This morning
I walk the well-worn
path, out of bed
into the kitchen
where the scent
of coffee and little girl giggles
As I pour that first cup
and bend down to them
my heart whispers
this is it
this is it

For a moment today
I forgot
all that "needed" improving.

The growing pile of laundry
the nagging "to do" list

I forgot to care
whether I was on the right path
which direction I should go
or how I would get there

I simply pressed pause
and watched your tiny sunlit hands
pluck one dandelion
after another
until you had a perfect
sweet bouquet

then you skipped down the hill
while the angels sang
and my heart followed you
to tuck into a corner
under soft fleece
to hush noises and pictures and words
want to stop
and remember
to sink
all the way in
want to release
old stories
screaming loud voices
silenced ones
who can't and didn't
want to wrap them
in warmth
to hear them and see them
to tell them
they can
want to know
and keep knowing
how to be
how to be free
of want


Fall back
fall all the way back
let the current
carry you

open wide
to the smiling sun;
to the laughing moon, to clouds
and trees and bees and butterflies

They all know
as the river knows
as the twinkling little stars know

As your open, big heart knows
when the rest gets out of the way

Fall back
dance with the storm clouds
let all the way go

and be carried
the whole way
the whole way back

to your open

I see her shadow first
casting orange
on the open
Then her slow,breathing body
and see-through wings

She sits
on an empty
all six legs anchored
and still

The wind comes
gently at first
then with some force

But still, she stays.

I wonder
why she’s chosen
this branch
on this tree.
This tree
amongst so many

Receive, she says,

And I do.

Remember the beginning
how we sat crossed-legged,
knees brushing knees
while you fed me mango,
one slow bite
after another.

Eyes seeing
all the way
to the deepest parts.

We kissed
in produce aisles,
next to blooming Rhododendrons
In wide open meadows
where wild flowers grew.

Between juicy bites
and slow sips of red wine
you told me.
Not with words
but with hands
and eyes

and layer after
layer fell
leaving behind
a fullness
calm and cloudless
and sure.

Then came the I dos,
morning sickness,
middle-of-the-night feedings,
toddlers and tantrums
and disagreements
over who should
or shouldn't, who did
or didn’t

And the insatiable need for sleep.

But under layers
of heavy storm clouds
that clear sky

Still and sure
and waiting
for our quiet

in old stories
I circle around
and around, forgetting all
I know

I try
to stand still
to fix the broken parts
to be
the one who is okay

I wish I hadn’t
I should have
if only
I had accepted
instead of pushed away

I hold too many pictures
of the wrong things
the ugliness
of too many lifetimes
trapped inside

I don’t want to be the keeper anymore.

I will
empty myself
again and again
and again

until all that is left is
and a Knowing
that it is all

Just as it was
Just as it is

Oh, sweet moment
I inhale
every part of you
Black, looming clouds
tiny buds
and full blooms
I open wide
my Self to you
I laugh out loud
open my mouth
to the rain
I am full
and overflowing, spilling
out to you.
Finally I See
The space
that knows
no end
I bow to you, sweet moment
Again and again
And again


Without words
we sit in quiet.
Stillness wraps
around us
in its soft, electric way
There is no wanting
or needing to know
what comes next
No questions
or place to get
We are not
in yesterdays
or turning toward

Just us
and something
that will
through births
and deaths
and lifetimes
A million nows from now
A million nows from then

In this patch of sunlight
she writes
and wants
and waits
for something that will not come.
Steam rises
from the cold, wet grass
a single droplet
lets go
of the oak leaf.

It does not matter
what happened yesterday
or even a moment ago
The trees do not remember.
They do not
wait either, as she
does now.
They know
this full moment
is all
there is
That within it
the Sun.

If only we could be as brave
as that tall growing oak
rooted deeply to the warm earth
It reaches its naked branches
up to the sun
and drops its leaves
one by one
never once stopping
to cling or hold on
or question
or long
Just a tree
being a tree
being a tree

On the other side
of yesterday
not quite tomorrow,
she finds herself
through pages
and dark corners
and shadows
For some trace
or whisper
to grab hold of
that can’t be held
and has no name

Sitting still.
There is
to go.
One breath
after another
of crisp
Autumn air
rich, wet soil
fallen leaves.
enters too, into
open lungs
where it lights
and warms
the cold spots.
And then
a moment
of anything
A moment
when doubt
its tired grip
mixes with
October air
and silently

You can see it in her eyes
the way they look beyond
to something not there
by her slow, hesitant walk
that somewhere down the road she missed
a turn, or perhaps she took the turn but forgot
to get back on the road

She remembers the five year old in pigtails
who wished on stars, searched fields for four leaf clovers
blew dandelion seeds
as far as her small breath would allow and watched
while they scattered into the spring breeze
She threw her head back and made a wish
that she was a fairy and could fly up to the quiet clouds, away
from his angry eyes and her silence
that she could make them smile and hold hands
like other mommies and daddies did

Brown eyes wide, lit open with possibility
a skip in her small step.

Where did all that life go
that little girl in pigtails
now a distant acquaintance
were they related?
She pictures her from time to time
running bare-toed through warm grass
sunshine on her round cheeks
And sometimes when that first evening star appears
her grown-up self wishes that her little self
would come back and teach her
how to skip again.

The tiny snowman on the front lawn
has lost his carrot nose
and acorn eyes
his stick arms reach out
as if to say
I’m still here

His body holds pictures
of a snowy afternoon
big flakes melting on open smiles
and freckled cheeks,
giggles warming frozen air
lighting gray with pink

Toddler hands touching snow
for the first time, sisters
taking turns rolling
and building, until--delighted,
a form is shaped

The little one points upward
her brown moon eyes
meet the setting sun,
the sky now blushing roses;
She points as if to say
Look. Stop. Pay attention.
It’s still here

Moments frozen
in that snowman’s body
in cold little girl toes
tucked in pink boots,
brown curls dancing with snowflakes;
young ones in awe of it all.

I look through frosty glass
at the faceless snowman, dripping
his snow body onto winter grass;
my heart a puddle
of moments
that were.

What difference does it make
You with your luggage
hauling all that weight
as if something depended on it
You with your smile and hopefulness
ready to change the world.
You look away self-consciously
always so conscious of yourself
black-rimmed glasses
take over your face, obstruct
the view of your absent eyes
It can all go in a billion directions
do you remember the stars?
There is a universe
out there
inside you too
waiting patiently to be discovered
So finally
you can forget yourself

And so very much depends on it

She sunk
into warm sand
barefoot and tired
Out to sea
she looked
and looked and looked.
One after the other
waves crashed and foamed
and crashed and foamed
None of it would go away
and then all of it did.
A wave of calm
and she knew.

So, what do you think
are you going to let it
get the best of you
let it call the shots, around
and around it goes
chasing its own tail, barking
in circles
running away, forgetting
to come back
are you going to let it win
or are you going to step in
and Do something
about this mess you’re
we’re all doing it
listening too closely
to the wrong end
waiting impatiently
for something new to begin
looking that way, over there, beyond
pushing for an answer
instead of listening
with every itty bitty part
of ourselves
listening with our eyes
and breath
listening until we hear
something unobstructed
by the monkeys sitting noisily
on our backs
IT has something to do with that tree,
I’m sure
the way it stands so assured
so rooted and forever
so not this or that
so not trying
but simply BEing
all of this
And that

Climbed that hill today
tossed those fears
at the bottom.
A quieter voice kicked in,
all the others
ran ahead
of the self-doubts
high-fived the I can'ts
through the I wants
All that was left
were the
I cans

I want to crawl inside
your heart space
curl up tight and close
And silently allow
it to massage me
with its many notes
and rhythms
I want to stay
there for a moment or maybe
an eternity
feeling every bit of everything
You feel. I don't
want to miss a beat
or run
when it gets to be
too much
I want to stay and stay
with each rhythmic pulse
with every pang
and blossom; I want
to stay


Sipping Jasmine tea
with the rain, I remember
I only have a few more days.
To be this age, I mean,
the one I am now.
And then it's on
to another moment
that turns
into another season
and wrinkles
and more gray
And wisdom, I'm sure.
and pain.
I’m sure too
that I'll never
be sure
that tomorrow
it will all change, the flowers
will bud
then bloom
then die.
We all will, I know.
And with each inhale
I get closer
to buds and blooms
to death
to Life

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♥ Julia