Little birds bob and hop
rounded heads tilt this
way and that.
Dark, intense eyes peer,
hidden ears listen,
always listen
to the sounds of life -
seeds falling, hawks winging,
winds blowing gusts of change.
Oh to be a bird, to flit
and fly! Leaving fear
behind, a feathered rush for
cover of bush or nest. Cozy
retreat lined with down
plucked or fallen from breast,
warm, sustaining. Shelter
from all that is loathsome.
Wings folded, head tucked,
see and hear no evil. Yet
occasionally,
shockingly, a woodpecker finds
a fledgling, nested, vulnerable,
and drills through tender skull for
sweetmeat. Ah, nature,you awful,
lovely beast!
Doesn’t everyone
want to live, to thrive, be safe,
comfortable and audacious, plucky
too? And what
of politics? Both
sides are part of the same coin, shiny,
valuable, worthy of nesting in
pockets. Rims, edges are
circles leading us back to life,
to each other.
Perhaps you’ve had a strong visceral response to this poem,
as I had, when reading facts about birds, and then writing in response. Don’t we all have the capacity for ugliness? So much in
this world I simply can’t change, understand, or control. And, though I’m a
person of deep faith, I can’t always succinctly describe faith, or God, just as scientists can't always do the same for nature. I am best as observer and participant, continually becoming a
more compassionate and grateful observer and participant.
Now, here
in this predawn darkness,
sitting by my
dancing fire,
the soapstone wood stove
warms my body.
Candle light softly
illuminates
the room.
All things inner and
outer contain light and shadow.
All bodies of consciousness
contain the seen and unseen, awareness and unconsciousness. Some beliefs in us are beautifully whole, some are fragmented, even shocking. It is challenging to grow up, to become aware, to separate out the strands and discern what is hovering near our dark edges, wanting to be known and brought into
the light. Hard for ourselves, this mandatory job of maturing in wisdom, impossible to discern for others with perfect precision. All we can do is look within ourselves, discern there first, and thus better understand how we might be a part of the human condition.
In this literal and symbolic darkness, I
bring my short comings, my fragmented parts, my fears into prayerful,
compassionate light. Christ followers would call my candle the Christ candle. For peoples of other faiths, the Light represents many truths: Awareness. Wholeness. Illumination. Wisdom. Love.
Saint Paul teaches in Ephesians 5:13 - But everything
exposed by the light becomes visible, for everything that is illuminated
becomes a light itself.
Another version, from The Voice paraphrase - When the light shines, it exposes even the dark and shadowy things and turns them into pure reflections of light.
Those
words are my prayer for myself; I want to become increasingly and more compassionately aware of my own shadows. The keyword is compassion, for as we are compassionate with ourselves, we are to others. To bring my shadows into the light so they become Light. I pray and open my soul for illumination, then extend the same to all the souls
of the world. This is my prayer for all people, for Trump, for Obama, for all leaders,
politicians, political parties, organizations, businesses, communities, faiths
and churches.
Whatever we become aware of, our body of pain, our cultural conditionings, our knee jerk reactions, whatever we compassionately observe or watch, usually dissipates until it is absorbed and transformed by Light, simply becoming light. Thus we are free. Our actions become less tainted with unconscious needs and reactions. We become wisely self-aware, more like Christ, aligned with the wisdom of the ages, like beautiful shining people of Light in an often dark world.
May all our edges and rims be illuminated circles
leading us back to each other, to the path of becoming
real-authentic-whole, which
is Life!
