Here We Are...
This life…
So unpredictable, we kid ourselves to think we can pin it down make a plan, work at it and expect it to appear. Not that you shouldn’t try. I’m not suggesting giving up. Just a looser fit, maybe a looser grip…
Sometimes… luck & effort converge and we land a fish! How Fun!
& then along the way the ride is a river we can’t fully anticipate. The corporate trend to measure everything blocks the room of uncertainty so necessary for creativity to bloom. We fear uncertainty instead of understanding confusion’s necessity. Oh! to learn & repeatedly remember the importance of
Trusting the process…
The long view helps, looking inside the challenges for the gifts, the bate to take one way or another, time moves you. You find the magic or miss it. it’s a practice. There is always some present, even when we can’t find it.
You are always being invited to connect.
Can you experience the invitation?
Last Wednesday at the pub, drawings below.
Thanks for reading & may you find the invitations to connect to your magic.
Can you?
be curious?
Your post reminded me of a poem I wrote long ago about “loosening up.” When I read the poem I would hold that small silver bell in might fist and it wouldn’t ring until i loosened my grip. Good advice you are giving! I needed the reminder. Thank you!
Rent
You, you wanted to hang on
with forty fists, desperate hands
clenched around each one.
Me, I wanted to throw them
into the river that surged over us
when Sarah died. Precious Moments,
the porcelain figurines we collected
in a bow-front china cabinet; now
boxed, under lock and key, in self-storage.
Grappling with grief, you hear the whole
upright world tell you to “get a grip,”
when the only sane thing to do is cut loose.
Life be damned, but the river, never.
Listen. This hurt in our hearts, we own
ourselves. Take your life,
like a small silver bell, in the open palm
of your hand; close it up tight and shake
a silent fist at a deaf heaven. Or, hold life
more gently: let the rent heart ring.
I listen for the bell of mindfulness
to call me home. It calls my name.
Currents rise. I want to add a porcelain
ping and klink to the tumbling chorus
of stones that were the earth’s first music.
Thank you David! i’m touched by your reply and honored to have you share your gorgeous poem in response. Wow! i think i might print it out and have it up somewhere. Glad to have been a reminder & inspiration to share this piece of your magic!